Be present

Be holy (Leviticus 19:2)

Those two words from Leviticus—be holy—caught my attention when I read them during my morning prayer and then heard them at Mass.

Be holy.

I asked myself what I need to do to be holy.

And there is the rub. God is saying be and I am thinking do.

It is a familiar trap for me because I am much better at doing than I am at being.

Give me a task that needs to get done, some project that requires attention or a problem to be solved, and I will jump right in.

But just being? Well, I am not so good at that.

It was one of my biggest challenges when I lived in l’Arche, a Christian community where people with and without developmental disabilities live together. The invitation of l’Arche is to be and being is more highly valued than doing. Living in l’Arche was the beginning of my intentional practice of being.

I have gotten better at it, but obviously, I still have a way to go because I read and heard be and asked what I need to do.

Then I thought of the people I know whom I think of as holy and considered what it is about them that makes them holy.

It occurred to me that all the people I think of as holy are good at being present to the people who are right in front of them. It is not that they don’t make plans, because they do, but their primary focus is on the now. They focus on each person as an individual, and they see the humanity in every person.

One friend texted me the other day that she thinks of people as mosaics made up of broken pieces, some pieces weaker and more likely to break again; other pieces are made stronger by whatever glue binds them.

That honors each person. It doesn’t deny weakness or faults but sees beyond character traits to a more holistic picture of the person. She isn’t trying to fix people; she is trying to be present to them. That is holy.

At the customer service counter in the grocery store the other day, the cashier vented to another store employee about a customer who “went off” on her because the cashier had taken a phone call. The cashier was upset and lamented how angry people are. It was an unholy encounter, full of hurt and anger. I stood and listened, trying to be present to the cashier in her distress.

When she turned to me, it seemed she might have been expecting that I, too, would “go off” on her because I had been waiting while she vented.

“I’m not angry,” I said. “It is a beautiful, sunny day and I am in no rush to go anywhere. Take your time.”

She breathed out and smiled.

“Just be present to the person in front of you,” I said to myself “and that will be holy.”