In 1923, the Jewish theologian Martin Buber wrote an immensely influential little book entitled I and Thou.

Buber’s main point is that there are two ways of relating to other people in our lives: We can see them as objects to be used -what Buber calls an “l-it” relationship; or we can see others as having feelings, dreams and needs as real and as important as our own that can be the basis for dialogue and relationship -an “I-Thou” relationship.

In his memoirs, Buber tells the story of how he came to his theory of I- Thou and l-It. When he was a professor of philosophy at a university in Germany, a young student came to see him. The student had received his draft notice to serve in the German army in World War I. He was a pacifist by nature and afraid of being killed in battle, but, at the same time, he was a loyal and fiercely patriotic German. He asked Buber what he should do: serve his country and risk being killed or claim conscientious objector status and perhaps leave another young man to be killed in his place.

Buber was in the midst a difficult theological-philosophical treatise and was annoyed at the young man’s claim on his time and attention. The professor said something along the lines of that’s a serious dilemma; do what you think is right.

The young man, in despair for lack of guidance, committed suicide, and Buber, for the rest of his life, felt a measure of guilt for not being more present to that young man, for seeing him only as an interruption and not as a human soul in torment. Buber felt he had sinned against the image of God in that young student by treating him as an object without needs and feelings.

It is so easy to treat others as objects, to measure their worth by what they are able to do for us. We carelessly dismiss as unimportant if not undesirable those who distract us from our own agendas, who demand too much from us, who make us uncomfortable, who fail to live up to our expectations. We expect a great deal from one another -sometimes too much -and it seems there is no end to our disappointment in our spouses, our children (our parents!), our priests, our co-workers, our neighbours. Our standards of what is right and proper often drive some people to the edges of society, far away from us. The Samaritan woman is one such victim. Her religious background and her nationality make her a non-person in the eyes of Judaism; her lifestyle makes her a pariah among her own. But rather than reject her, Jesus calls forth from her a sense of faith and joy that enables her to confront her life, and in telling others of her encounter with Jesus, she becomes a source of faith and joy for others.

May we be able to do the same: to move beyond the failings of others and our disappointment in them in order to call forth the good they possess and make it possible for them to use those gifts for the good of all.