When Scary You

There are times when others behave or speak in ways that are out of our comfort zone; in ways that we don't ordinarily think about or observe, and we may feel frightened or threatened. 
Remembering that it is someone who, them self, is feeling frightened and acting out that anxious mind isn't always the first thing we think about.
It is likely, after all, that when we are uncomfortable, threatened-- feeling small to your big, the first response is to lash out, to even up the situation. So we become loud, stubborn, overbearing, competitive.

And meeting others on level ground can be initially difficult when what we most want is to beat and retreat. However standing and announcing that they are scary right now may be just one way to break thorough to a truth that is otherwise hard to know.
 Dealing with others on a level playing field transforms you and the interaction into something less intimidating and more manageable.
You are now much more an equal; think about it-- people who aren't feeling bigger or smaller in comparison to others rarely are antagonistic. That is a spiritual truth all can ponder.  

Feeling frightened or seeming scary isn't just limited to yelling, belligerence or overtly acting out; silence, other non-communication or when the person is speaking calmly, but not making a whole lot of sense, is admittedly scary too.

Regardless of the form of "scary" which you may perceive, meeting others on level ground makes all the difference in a relationship with others. What is this meeting on level ground about? Zen teacher, Diane Rizzetto writes that it is about measures of self worth. She notes that many of us, many times place people below or above ourselves. We move about our daily life with a sometimes unconscious "measure stick."

Like Thomas Merton noted, we categorize and classify others, and sometimes dismiss them. Dag Hammarskjold observes that by avoiding those occasions of comparison, we are more humble, not better nor worse than any other. We then meet as equal, equally human. Some use these measures to avoid uncomfortable feelings they have; though we are neither better nor worse as human beings, we often have the impulse to place personal responsibility elsewhere, to fault find; looking at our self with the mind of not better nor worse can over time lead to a greater self acceptance and feeling for others because in relationships, we don't need to convert others or clone our self. It's one step off the spinning wheel of suffering.

The Good Samaritan

Who is my neighbor? is the question asked by the Christ in the parable of the Good Samaritan. While today the term "good samaritan" brings positive connotations, in the time of the Christ, this was not the case. The Samaritans were known as an offshoot of Judaism; the Shomronim as they are known in Hebrew, believed their mode of worship was the one, true religion of the Israelites prior to the Babylonian exile. Their ancient lands were known as Samaria.They believed that they alone were indeed the "true keepers of the Mosaic law."

At one time they numbered in the millions, later they were reduced by politics and other forms of suppression. Their numbers dwindled by the early Common Era; the advent of Islam further reduced them. However the Samaritans never were completely extinguished. Today they are counted in modest numbers in the West Bank and Gaza areas, possibly numbering less than 100 individuals there. With the advent of the Samaritan schism, the Jews no longer associated with them. They saw their methods as corrupt, contemptible. The process was a long, one. It is easy to point to a single source, but more likely it is multiple factors which led to the Bible writers in the early Common Era to view them negatively. Some bible historians such as Wayne Brindle of Grace Theological Seminary point out that their exact origins remain unclear.

Who, then, is our neighbor according to the telling of this story, the Good Samaritan? If, we, like most Jews of the time period, consider Samaritans less good, then may they be ignored? May we then according to the telling of the story by bible writer Luke pass him, who is in need, by? Luke recounts a man, beaten and robbed who lies in the road. Many pass him by for many reasons or none at all. A Samaritan passes, stops and assists the man.

The Christ points out that it was a Samaritan who helped this man, who showed him the mercies of the Lord (Even though many at the time disliked him because he was a Samaritan). He also asks his readers, who will find the kingdom of heaven? He concludes that in the tradition of Israel, all who love their neighbor as them self will see the Kingdom.  
Who is the neighbor? The neighbor, answers Thomas Merton, with consideration: that while the Creator may be good, not all men can be so perfect. Is there a place "where one should draw the line?" Merton asks. He notes this question is a matter of classification. It is also a judgement. To the average man these questions often occupy the mind, but to the Christ they were not relevant. He knew not to judge, lest you be judged, and that one must not classify or be classified.

Because love is free; it is not dependent upon other factors. "It loves for loves' sake."  If love contributes to a being, then that being develops and grows; love both gives and receives. If it demands to receive, and only to receive, before it gives, then it is not love. So then the parable as told by Luke is the mystery of mercy, or misericordia.

Love of the Contemplated

"The contemplation of the saints is fired by the love of the one contemplated..."   Saint Albert the Great of Paris

Writing about Aescetics and meditation, Thomas Aquinas, disciple of Saint Albert the Great wrote: that "our knowledge of the deus is arrived at, on this earth, by the light of burning love."
In contrast, the contemplation of philosophers is " merely intellectual speculation on the divine nature... the beauty of mental prayer and of mystical contemplation is in the soul's abandonment and total surrender of itself... to bear witness to God. The rest is silence," wrote Thomas Merton.

Other traditions also have much to say about meditation and prayerful contemplation; however in the west, it is the aescetics and the 'desert fathers' who have perhaps spoken most loudly.
Most, east and west, will likely agree with the words of Merton, "meditation does not have to be colorful or spectacular. The effectiveness of our mental prayer is not to be judged by the interior 'fireworks' that go off inside us when we pray. On the contrary, although sometimes the fruit of a good meditation [practice] may be an ardent and sensible love springing from vivid insights into truth; these so-called 'consolations of prayer' are not to be trusted without reserve, or sought for their own sake alone.'

'We should be deeply grateful when our prayer really brings us an increase of clear understanding and felt generosity, and we should by no means despise the stimulation of sensible devotion when it helps us to do whatever we have to do, with greater humility, fidelity and courage."
Thus it is quite possible that meditation practice which at times seems 'cold,' can actually be valuable because it is without feelings and this may be, for some, the most profitable. It can be a source of strength, bring us out of our immediate sense-reactions and to a point of contemplation where we may hold the idea or the contemplated up for more careful and detailed consideration. It may assist us to spiritualize our interior self, quieting the emotions, rising above the mundane, towards a place of reason and faith.

For this reason, Merton asserts that at this point, ignorance can make progress in mental prayer difficult; "those who think that their meditation must always culminate in a burst of emotion, fall into one or two errors...either they find their emotions run dry... or else they can almost always weep at prayer... in the beginning when our senses are easily attracted to created pleasures, our emotions will keep us" from turning to anything greater [more in depth], unless they themselves give continued joy and pleasure; pure, untempered emotion tends to eat itself up and we risk "resting in these things which are by no means the end of the journey." Here, Thomas Merton a Trappist monk writes in the true vein of an aescetic.