Spiritus Monday: Reading James

Someone dear to me swears by James—that is, the Book of James from The Bible The early verses passed along to me last week are followed by this passage from Chapter 1:

9 Let the brother of low degree rejoice in that he is exalted: 10 But the rich, in that he is made low: because as the flower of the grass he shall pass away. 11 For the sun is no sooner risen with a burning heat, but it withereth the grass, and the flower thereof falleth, and the grade of the fashion of it perisheth: so also shall the rich man fade away in his ways.

And, continuing the line of thought, in Chapter 2:

2 For if there come unto your assembly a man with a gold ring, in goodly apparel, and there come in also a poor man in vile raiment; 3 And ye have respect to him that weareth the gay clothing, and say unto him, Sit thou here in a good place; and say to the poor, Stand thou there, or sit here under my footstool: 4 Are ye not then partial in yourselves, and are become judges of evil thoughts?

To my mind, pointedly this writer offers in the same chapter a rather wry observation: 15 If a brother or sister is naked and destitute of daily food, 16 and one of you says to them, “Depart in peace, be warmed and filled,” but you do not give them the things which are needed for the body, what does it profit?

The language of James can turn ferocious, in a manner quite beyond the expression way harsh that was once in vogue:

5 Go to now, ye rich men, weep and howl for your miseries that shall come upon you. 2 Your riches are corrupted, and your garments are motheaten. 3 Your gold and silver is cankered; and the rust of them shall be a witness against you, and shall eat your flesh as it were fire. Ye have heaped treasure together for the last days. 4 Behold, the hire of the labourers who have reaped down your fields, which is of you kept back by fraud, crieth: and the cries of them which reaped are entered into the ears of the Lord of sabaoth.

Damning, scathing, virulent. But, despite the linguistic pyrotechnics, nothing really new to see here.

In the Judeo-Christian tradition reaching deep into history, we find an ongoing heightened awareness of suffering—even more, we hear recurring admonitions that those in great need are in our charge, demanding of us with more a compelling duty.

In the Old Testament, Isaiah counsels us to “Learn to do right. See that justice is done—help those who are oppressed, give orphans their rights, and defend widows”. (Isaiah 1:17)

From Zechariah, “…Execute true judgement, and shew mercy and compassions every man to his brother: 10 And oppress not the widow, the fatherless, the stranger, nor the poor; and let none of you imagine evil against his brother in your heart”. (Zechariah 7:9-10)

My readers are savvy enough to rescan in their minds the focus of headlines in our contemporary world: refugees, the impoverished, the homeless, victims of natural disasters.

I have no interest in wading into the waters roiled by contemporary political currents. Maybe, however, we at least may come together and agree to give what we can give, to do what we can do.

And so, good deeds, done.

You and Me

What follows is one of my favorite sections from Martin Buber’s I and Thou:

The Brahmana of the hundred paths relates that the gods and the demons were once engaged in a contest. Then the demons said: “To whom should we offer our sacrifices?” They placed all offerings in their own mouths. But the gods placed the offerings in one another’s mouth. Then Prajapati, the primal spirit, bestowed himself upon the gods.

For Buber—and I offer the idea broadly—the central shift that all individuals must make is to transform what he terms an I-It approach to others into the I-You so that we are joined together in this life we share rather than traveling as islands separate from the main.

To not only see the other, but to bond with the other in a way that validates, recognizes, honors one another beyond objectifying or idolizing. Spirit to spirit, if you will allow.

Getting at the idea from another angle, the philosopher Immanuel Kant proposed that rational human beings should be treated as an end in themselves and not as a means to something else. The very fact of our shared humanity is enough worth in itself. We are each of us a valued You, not merely a material It.

That we are one of more than 6 billion individuals, each someone who has not been before, will not again be a part of this earthly realm—well, to my way of thinking, a compelling reason to stand before each other in awe: You! No, You!

Several times over the years, I joked with friends and family that I hoped I would not drop dead over a stack of essays or tests that demanded grading. Wishing that my last vision would not be the pile of papers and thud!, my head down, eternally at rest.

Perhaps the image strikes you as morbid or grotesque or even perverse, or maybe amusing. Stay with me idea-wise. Since we do not know when our last breath may come, and since we do not know if someone may be there with us—friend, stranger, kin, clerk, judge, or helpmate—there and then, if ever were it to be so, a moment calls for I-You rather than I-It.

I have found—and this may seem like an aside—that to ask of folks at service centers or checkout counters, service technicians or assistants of some sort or another, how they are doing, how their day goes is often met by surprise. Anyone, really. I can hear the shift in their speaking tones. More often than not, I will see it in their demeanor. Buber’s I-You is at work. In both directions. No longer am I merely a work order, a shopper, a blood donor. No longer an It.

For a week, a day, chance the connection. Consider each encounter as the final moment in the passage. We may be all that we have.

Besides, we do know this idea to be true at its core. The only question is must we wait for earthquakes and floods and tornados and hurricanes.

May I then, finally, offer a gentle tweak. You-Me, Baby!