The Other Man
Is neighbor,” not himself, the teaching runs. “Let each one of us please his neighbor for that which is good, unto edifying.” If the inspiration for this teaching had come from the spirit of the world, it would have run somewhat thus: “Let every one of us please himself, for his own advancement and entertainment, for his own gratification.” But the inspiration is from the divine Spirit, and, therefore, the words read as they do.
St. Paul has much to say in his epistles about liberty and love. At that time one of the burning questions in the church was whether it was right for Christians to eat meats which had been offered to idols. St. Paul settled the question instantly for himself. An idol was nothing — only a piece of stone or wood or a 1$tatt (BatDcn
metal. It had no effect on the meats which were dedicated to it.
Did not that, then, settle the question of duty once for all.^^ No; there is something besides law — there is love. This bids us think of tle other man. “Take heed lest by any means this liberty of yours become a stumblingblock to the weak.” There are some who are not so strong as you are. They think it wrong to eat these dedicated meats, but if they see you eating them they may be emboldened to partake themselves. Thus through the influence of your example they would violate their conscience and thus sin. So “through thy knowledge he that is weak perisheth, the brother for whose sake Christ died.” Conscious of his own liberty, St. Paul yet thought of the other man, and would yield his liberty when there was the least danger that if he claimed it he might cause a weak brother to sin. “Wherefore, if meat causeth my brother to stumble, I will eat no flesh for evermore, that I cause not my brother to stumble.” This is the principle which St. Paul enun- [270]
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ciates. Wc arc not to please ourselves. The strong ought to bear the infirmities of the weak. If the companion with whom you are walking is unable to go fast, you must go slow, thus accommodating yourself to his feebler strength and slower step. We are to think always of the other man. That is what the law of love bids us do. It is not an easy lesson. Some one says: “If a man would live at ease, let him beware of love. If he love a country, it may call him suddenly to hardship and death. If he love art, it will set him heartbreaking lessons of trial and self-surrender. If he love truth, it will call him to part company with his friends. If he love men, their sorrows will sit by his fire and shadow its brightness. If he love some other soul as the life of his life, he must put his happiness at the hazard of every day’s chances of life and death.... Love is a more terrible master than law, and they who follow must stand ready to strip themselves of all lesser possessions.”
“Let each one of us please his neighbor.” [271] a i$tan (Katnen
Blot self out of your thought. That is the first great lesson.
“Love thyself last. Look near, behold thy duty To those who loalk beside thee down life’s road; Make glad their days by little acts of beauty, And help them bear the burden of earth’s load.
“Love thyself last. Look far and find the stranger Who staggers ‘neath his sin and his despair; Go lend a hand, and lead him out of danger, To heights where he may see the world is fair.’’
But there is more of the lesson. At least, there is a qualification. Pleasing the other man is not all. We might please him to his hurt. He may have a heavy burden, and it would please him to have us come up beside him and lift the burden away. But that might do him harm, defeating the purpose of God in giving him the burden. The lessons may be hard, and it might please the child if we would sit down [272]
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beside him in the evening and do them for him. But it would not be a kindness to him. Love makes a great many mistakes of this kind. Some one writes: “The mother who defeats the growth of her child by releasing it from a distasteful discipline is not devoted, but ignorant; the father who shields his son from the penalties that might arrest the downward tendency is not tender, but cruel.” Some people are pleased by flattery, but flattery only puff’s up — does not edify, build up. There are some whom sin pleases — but sin leaves curse, not blessing; harm, not help. We must read the whole of the lesson: “Let each one of us please his neighbor for that which is good, unto edifying.” Our pleasing of him must always be for his good. Edifying means building up. This was a favorite figure with St. Paul. He had seen the great buildings in ancient cities. He knew that they had risen slowly, block by block, column by column, touch by touch, until at last they were finished and stood forth in majesty and strength. To edify men is to put some new [273] a icart dParnen
block in its place in the temple of their character.
“Souls are built as temples are — Inch by inch in gradual rise
Mount the layered masonries.
‘’Souls are built as temples are — Here a carving rich and quaint,
There the image of a saint;
Here a deep-hued pane to tell
Sacred truth or miracle;
Every little helps the much,
Every careful — careless — touch
Adds a charm or leaves a scar.’’
We must see to it that our pleasing of others always ministers to their good in some way, edifies them, adds something to their character, makes them braver, stronger, truer, happier. The world is full of discouraged people, and we have power to say a hopeful word or do a kindness which will drive the discouragement from their hearts and nerve them again with strength for brave, victorious, and songful living.
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We must keep in mind, as we go on, that St. Paul is talking about the weak brother. We are quite apt to feel that it is unreasonable to ask us strong people, eager to get on and making long strides, to curb our desires and take short, mincing steps in order that the weak brother can keep up with us. Men, full of life, strenuous, daring, courageous men, say that it is absurd to expect them to restrain themselves and check their energies in waiting for the timid ones, the halting ones. But St. Paul says: “Let us not judge one another any more; but judge ye this rather, that no man put a stumblingblock in his brother’s way.”
The teaching of all this is that we should be willing and ready at all times and in all ways to deny ourselves, to make sacrifices, to give up our own rights, when any other one would be hurt by our going on in our own swift and strenuous way. Christ died for the weak brother with whom we find it so hard to be patient. If Christ died for him, does it need any argument to show that we ought to be [275 1 willing to give up our rights in little or even in greater matters in order to help him along? One of the most beautiful sights one ever sees is some strong man, wise and great, stooping in patience to help along in life one who is weak, dull, ignorant, slow. Some of us chafe and fret when those we would help get on so slowly, when we have to tell them the same thing over and over a hundred times. But we should remember how gentle Jesus was with His disciples in their dulness. He never once showed impatience with them. David, at the close of his long and great life, when accounting for his success, attributed it all to God’s forbearance with his slowness and stumbling. “Thy gentleness,” he said, “hath made me great.” It is a lesson that all need to learn — how to deal with the weak brother so as to help him along, and to get him strong at last. So we see that there is something greater, more sacred, than liberty, than rights. Love is the greatest thing in the world. If there is danger that a man’s moderate drinking may lead [276]
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a weak brother to immoderate drinking, thus causing him to perish for whom Christ died, what should the man do? He may assert his rights, but that is not the lesson that love would teach him.
We are to see to it that everything we do and every influence of our life shall be for our neighbor’s good. If a man has no neighbors, if he lives alone on an island far from other human habitation, he may say that he can do as he pleases, for no one can be hurt or disturbed by anything he does. But that is not the way any of us live. There are other people all about us, and every word and act of ours will affect their lives. We are bound so to live that we shall do hurt to none, but shall edify — add something beautiful to the life of every one. A boy may enjoy beating his drum, or a man may insist on playing his cornet till midnight in his second-story room. But suppose his playing keeps his neighbor awake, or disturbs the sleep of a sick man next door, what about the higher law of love?
a 1$tatt (BarDen
It is a most serious thing to live. It is a serious thing to live our own life, even if no other one were concerned, for we must give account for every idle word, for every act, and for every neglect of duty. But it adds immeasurably to life’s seriousness to remember that we are responsible for every touch WG give to any life that falls in the slightest way under our influence. One was telling of a look of bitter anger from another, once a friend, in a chance meeting on the street. The look left a wound in a gentle heart, a wound which vrill be long in healing. We must think of the sin of grieving or injuring those who love us. Let us think still more seriously of causing others to sin. No matter what it may cost us, let us live only to bless, to help, to save others. There is a beautiful legend, told by James Buckham, of two saints — Saint Cassianus and Saint Nicholas.
Saint Cassianus entered heaven’s gate And sought the throne whereon his Master sate. Before the Lord of life he proudly stood With spotless robes and mien of saintlihood. [278]
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Then spake the Christ: ^’What sawest thou, to-day, My Cassianus, on thy heavenward way?”
“/ saw,^^ he said, “a peasant in a bog,
All smeared with slime and stranded like a log.”
“And didst thou help him?” asked the shining
One, With smile that lit His beauty like the sun. “Not I,” said Cassianus. “There he lay Till some one soiled as he shoidd pass that way.”
‘’Why didst thou leave him thus?” the Master
sighed. “My robes were white,” Saint Cassianus cried. Then entered heaven Saint Nicholas, and came And knelt before the throne as if in shame. “Why stained and soiled, My child?” his Master
said. Saint Nicholas but lower bent his head.
“I saw a peasant in a bog, 0 Lord. Helpless he lay, but uttered not a word. Then straightway to his aid I ran, and lo! The mire hath stained my robes that were as snow. I am not fit. I pray Thee let rne dwell Where unto Thee, 0 Lord, it seemeth well.” [279] a icat:t dParDen
“Blessed art thou, Saint Nicholas, My child!” The Lord made answer. “Thou art not defiled, But purer, nobler, for thy gracious deed, Thy ministry to a brother’s need. Among My saints elect I bid thee stand — Thou, Cassianus, on the other hand.”
The reward of sacrifices made in serving our fellow-men is divine commendation and honor. Those who suffer in helping others upward will find their wounds marks of blessing and beauty. The saintliness which will have the highest place in the kingdom of grace is not the saintliness which keeps its garments white by withholding itself from human need and sin, but that which, like the Master Himself, goes down into the lowest depths to lift up the fallen and the sorrowing. Let us take the lesson out into our life to-morrow — “Not self, but the other man.” One had for a motto, “Others.” Shall not we make this word our motto, blotting out the unsightly, undivine word “myself,” and writing instead the beautiful, Christly motto, “Think of the other man “.? [280] pLaUriQ flDur Kepott
281] ‘’How infinite and sweet, Thou everywhere And all-abounding Love, Thy service is!
“And I should fear, but to! amid the press. The whirl and hum and pressure of my day, I hear Thy garments sweep. Thy seamless dress. And close beside 7ny work and weariness Discern Thy gracious form, not far away, But very near, O Lord, to help and bless.
“The busy fingers fly, the eyes may see Only the glancing needle which they hold. But all my life is blossoming inwardly. And every breath is like a litany, While through each labor, like a thread of gold, Is woven the sweet consciousness of Thee.”