Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?

We all know the answer to this question. “I will, with God’s help.” It trips easily off the tongue. But perhaps it is not so easy to practice what this question asks us to do. There are many reasons for this, but one of the things that most prevents us from following through is that we forget to look at other people. We are surrounded by people, and by images of people. We see them. We might even stare at them. But we do not really look at who we are seeing. 

Perhaps, even if we have not curated the perfect look, we can still declare with the psalmist, “I am fearfully and wonderfully made” (Psalm 139:14). But can we turn to another human being with wonder? Can we see the Imago Dei in the face of the Other? To look at another person, to behold them truly, is to gaze into the infinite, to come face-to-face with a mystery. 

It is far easier to see others as bit players wandering on and off the stages of our lives, or worse, as mere objects to be manipulated for our own gratification. And yet, each and every human being on the earth is just as real as I am. Every single human being has hopes, fears, sorrows, and dreams that are just as important… just as real as mine. And yet, our society refuses… we refuse… to count certain people. The structures of our society work diligently to make other people invisible, and we cooperate. But still, in spite of this fact, every human being alive today is God’s miraculous creation. 

Each day we must resist the forces that make others invisible and engage in the holy task of noticing. We must wake up and ask ourselves, “In whose face will I see the face of God today?” We have to expect it… to plan it even. Otherwise, it is too easy to reach the end of the day never having noticed anyone. A“plan” need not be highly contrived. It can be as simple as working to remember that every interaction offers us the chance to notice the face of another person.  Truly noticing someone else, someone beyond ourselves, is when we come into contact with the divine. 

Levinas wrote about “the summons that comes… from the face of the neighbor,” calling us irresistibly out of ourselves and into the service of another. He likens this summons to waking up. Upon awakening, I come to know, unavoidably, that I am responsible for my neighbor. Cain might have been able to walk away, but we cannot. Stammering, we find our voice with the prophet Isaiah, and all we can say is, “Here I am” (Isaiah 6:8). 

Every day, God invites us into a holy game of hide-and-seek. Our vow binds us to start from wherever we may be, and to seek Christ in the face of every person we encounter. The ground we traverse is holy ground. Every interaction offers a glimpse of the divine spark in the Other. 

Come. Let us go out together into the world, seeking and finding Christ in each other. He awaits us.