There exists a Dilbert cartoon in which Dilbert is sitting at his computer, fully wired, and realizes that with the internet at his fingertips, he no longer needs to seek human contact. He bursts into song: "People, people who don't need people, are the luuuuuuckiest people in the woooooorld!" This is, of course, a play on the famous song "People", from the musical Funny Girl, in which Barbra Streisand as Fanny Brice celebrates people who do need people, which concept really confused me from the first time I heard it sung: Even at age 13, I was definitely of the Dilbert point of view, plus the Funny Girl song seemed to hint of a sort of codependent neediness.
There also exists a popular proverb relating to the human race: "It takes all kinds of people to make a world." My father, who is a man of age and wisdom (and also an introvert), puts it rather differently: "It doesn't take all kinds; we just have all kinds." And you know, that's generally how I feel. I'm not much of a people person, or more accurately, I'm not any kind of a people person at all. I'm usually pretty comfortable with my lack of social drive, but it was then irritating to spend all those years in seminary, being told, "As humans, we need others; God created us to be in community with each other and with Him."
Lately, I've been thinking (a dangerous pastime, I know), and it occurred to me that the thing about people is that we all carry the image of God. It's a damaged and sullied and defective image, because we are sinful and fallen beings, unworthy of the glory of being His creation and bearing Him in our persons; but it is there nonetheless, and to meet and interact with another human being is to see a flash of the Almighty God Himself. And perhaps through being with a whole lot of people, we can cobble together all the different flawed glimpses of God and gain a slightly clearer composite picture of Him. In community, in a cluster of God-images, we experience God, however briefly and darkly through a glass.