Actually 'seeing' the person you hope to please

I have suffered from something called vertigo lately, but considered myself well enough on Tuesday to teach my evening ESL class. It all went well except for one moment in mid-sentence in the course of the hour and a half when I suddenly felt dizzy. I recovered quickly and would have thought the event was not noticeable, but my helper Donna said immediately, “What’s wrong?” and suggested I sit down.

It was amazing to me that this woman, whom I am not well acquainted with, should have picked up on the slightest clues in my face, when I know it is possible to live in a family where more blatant clues go unnoticed, even when in the same room or passing in the hallway. This is all the more puzzling when such obliviousness is accompanied by great habitual fastidiousness in politeness and considerateness.

I have come to the conclusion, upon some reflection, that the key to understanding this puzzle is in the “great habitual fastidiousness in politeness and considerateness” itself. What I mean is that a person cannot, evidently, concentrate on both things at the same time. It is not possible to be totally preoccupied and consumed with being polite and considerate and correct, and at the same time to have energy left over to actually “see” the person you are presumably trying to please. It is because this kind of desire to please drives out genuine love.

I was reminded of Mrs. Fidget in C.S. Lewis’ The Four Loves:

“I am thinking of Mrs. Fidget, who died a few months ago. It is really astonishing how her family have brightened up. The drawn look has gone from her husband’s face; he begins to be able to laugh. The younger boy, whom I had always thought an embittered, peevish little creature, turns out to be quite human. The elder, who was hardly ever at home except when he was in bed, is nearly always there now and has begun to reorganise the garden. The girl, who was always supposed to be ‘delicate’ … now has the riding lessons which were once out of the question. …

“Mrs. Fidget very often said that she lived for her family. And it was not untrue. Everyone in the neighbourhood knew it. ‘She lives for her family,’ they said; ‘what a wife and mother!’ She did all the washing; true, she did it badly, and they could have afforded to send it out to a laundry, and they frequently begged her not to do it. But she did. There was always a hot lunch for anyone who was at home and always a hot meal at night (even in midsummer). They implored her not to provide this. They protested almost with tears in their eyes (and with truth) that they liked cold meals. It made no difference. She was living for her family.”

Who knows, maybe this is what the Qoheleth meant when he said in his curious manner:

“Be not overly righteous …” (Ecclesiastes 7:16).

He is not saying we should not be devoted to true righteousness, but that we should avoid becoming insufferably officious to our neighbor while not seeing him truly at all.