A Pilgrim's Journal

Did I help because the Bible told me to, or because I really wanted to?

This is a quote from the book The Year of Living Biblically by A.J. Jacobs (2007). The book chronicles the life of Jacobs in his attempt, and exploration, of living according to the Bible as literally as possible. For a year. The results are amusing and thought-provoking.

Don't read this book for answers. This is more like a diary filled with questions and internal puzzlings, and while it is very honest (which I enjoyed greatly), there are not a lot of solid answers in the book. If you take some of the text too seriously, you could make some serious mistakes, in my opinion.

That said, you probably shouldn't read this blog for answers either, since this is just as much a diary filled with questions and puzzlings, although maybe not quite as honest as the book.

Anyway, enough with the disclaimers.

The above line comes near the end of the book, where Jacobs is remembering an earlier question from his next door neighbour Nancy, when she was asking for a favour. She wanted to be sure that he was helping her because he really wanted to, and not just because it was part of his year-long project to live according to the Bible.

This line is probably the hardest hitting line in the book, for me. It's a hard question, because, when in the right state of mind, it is easy to get caught up doing things for God, and enjoying the process thoroughly. In that state of mind, you want to do good, but for God.

But from the human point of view, there is something different about having someone do something for you because they really want to. It is a totally different dynamic than someone just doing you a favour because they are in a good mood, or rich, or feeling pious that day. It is personal. It feels more like being in love than being a charity case.

There's a warm comforting feeling when someone does something for you just because they have a burning in their heart for you. It sort of takes you off guard. It makes you feel like you're not alone.

Is it possible to treat more than one or two people this way? It takes commitment and energy and some intimacy, I think.

What do you see in a person when you truly want to do something for them and not just for other external reasons? I think it is a personal value you place on the person. Someone that you don't fear at all. Someone that you don't mind getting close to. Someone that you want to hang out with. Someone that you want to talk with. Someone that you want to trust, and that you would not betray.

Does this happen with someone you meet for the first time? I don't think so. We fear strangers. We guard ourselves. We wonder what they are up to if they ask too many questions. We don't want to have our personal space invaded. We don't want to catch their cold, or whatever other bugs they might have. We don't want to spend our whole day with them, since we have things to do, people to see, and places to be. And we don't reveal our deep secrets to someone we just met.

How can we truly love with guarded attitudes like this? This is why I wonder if we can really love more than just a few people this way. This seems beyond what one person can manage to sustain.

Think of the closest person you know. Can you treat a homeless person with the same energy? I wonder. Is it possible? I know I can't do it now. Yet I know how badly I need to feel that warmth of real love, and if I feel it, then I know the homeless are also bitten with the cruel teeth of loneliness. It's probably why they are so happy when services like Out of the Cold open again for the winter. The warmth of love that the volunteers are able to share with the guests is so fleeting, so small, so short. Serving a meal, or playing a game, or smiling. But it seems like it is one of the warmest places that the homeless have in their lives.

Loneliness is a hard, cold monster to deal with, and the battles usually happen at our most solitary moments. At times like that, people would give almost anything to get a bit of warmth. Second hand warmth is ok. It's better than nothing. But there's a purer warmth that really comforts. And it's the kind that comes from an honest, pure desire. Because they really want to.

In the end, Nancy died of heart failure and asthma, caused by her closest friend that was with her every day: her dog. It's a sad story, and perhaps motivation to love our neighbour as ourselves.