A perfect touch

One of the wonderful things about being human is our capacity for being drawn to a person – even someone we do not know – through an undeniable awareness of powerful emotion: the strength of feeling generated within them.
Such feelings encompass the whole range of our life experience from the blissful and joyous to the most debilitating sense of utter desolation. It is a capacity that both derives from our being human, and contributes to the advancement of humanity towards God’s intended fulfilment. It is also a manifestation of the many-sided giftedness with which we are all blessed; a necessary aspect of the binding together of individuals into a real community. And it goes beyond our usual and habitual understanding of community to where we hear the echoes of Jesus’ prayer that all of us “may be so perfected in unity that the world will recognize” that it was the Father who sent Him. (John 17:23)
Jesus prayed, “May they all be one ...” (17:21) Such simple words: such a powerful message; and prayed, not only for those who lived and breathed with Him two thousand years ago, but for all Christians who have followed after, including ourselves: we who, in the present day, can so easily show ourselves to have not been “so perfected in unity”.

One of the natural traits we all share as human beings is the ease with which we place reliance on our feelings. In much that life brings us, we instinctively base decisions and judgments on our reactions, our bias, our preference and our prejudice. Every day, clear evidence that this is not the best way presents itself in friction and disagreement between individuals, and in news of conflict, injustice and abuse that speaks loud of the scale of wrongdoing across the world. In one way or another, all such wrongs are the fruit of wrong thinking: wrong thoughts and consequently wrong action based on the feelings – or lack of feelings – of people with the power to influence the lives of those around them. Those people may be numbered in millions, and their extreme distress apparently goes unnoticed by those who are its root cause. They do not feel anything about it, and therefore pay no heed to what is so obvious. Of course there are other factors involved, such as pride and greed, but these generate their own sets of feelings and are therefore anchored in the same root cause. All these conflicts, from the smallest argument, show how far we can stray from an awareness of our capacity for being drawn together, for empathy, for reaching out to others in response to feelings within ourselves: feelings brought about by the emotions and strength of feeling in others.
Here we have two completely opposite ways, not only of thinking and feeling, but of being. The one resulting from an ability to sense the feelings of others, the other from an inability to do so. The former is truly human; the latter is inhuman.

Our sense of inadequacy in the face of another person’s desperate need is a natural consequence of the truth contained in Proverbs 14:10: ‘the heart knows its own grief best, nor can a stranger share its joy.’ But for each of us, it is awareness of God’s presence that can and does still make a difference. Even as a stranger, if we can begin to raise that awareness within someone whose plight is blinding them to all forms of consolation, we shall have helped to show them the way. We shall have brought them closer to being able to reach out to Him with the words, “Out of the depths I cry to you O Lord.” (Psalms 130:1).
For me, those depths are not only the place where we feel crushed, deserted and helpless; they are the inner heart of our desolation: the hard to find, and sometimes even harder to believe in place where peace builds its home; the cracked vessel which God repairs through our dejection, our emptiness, and through our regained trust in His presence, leaving the vessel stronger, wider and deeper than before.

Our faith invites us to walk alongside each other, carrying the message that strives for recognition within us into the everyday routine of our days, as well as into the perceived burdens and turmoil of the people around us. It is through this quiet but constant inclination that we are set upon the path towards ‘perfection in unity’. It is faith which tells us to act, not like a stranger, but as a friend: to match our steps with those of others for just a few paces along the way. Our paths have crossed, but God so often causes such meetings to occur at a staggered crossroads: one at which we briefly share the same path before separately journeying on. For us to regard this merely as coincidence would be to deny the power for good that would direct us in all things. Wherever that power leads, we must hope to always have the strength to follow.

Learning to respond to such situations without allowing doubts to steer me away has been a slow process, but the more frequently I do it, the more clear it becomes that this is what is asked of each of us; the touch, the word, the attentive ear, the supportive hand held out- whether accepted or rejected; making it known to those in need that we have noticed, that we are aware and are feeling some of their pain, and quite simply that we are there.
The act of truly being with someone, even for only a few moments, is a hint of ‘perfection in unity’ and a blessing to both parties.
It is a touch of the perfection for which Jesus prayed for us. It is a perfect touch.
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