Because
of my preoccupation with turning 40 and racking my brains for yet another
super, exciting lesson plan (yes, I’ve already tried several) that may finally
cause my sophomores to turn into focused students who actually give a sh*t
about something other than movies and games, I have not been as good about
reading on the Syrian refugee situation and the recent terrorist attacks.
I’ve
read some on Twitter and Facebook. I have been saddened and sickened by the
loss of life. I have also been saddened and sickened by the American reaction
to recent events. I’ve had to once again take a break from Facebook because the
idiocy made my brain explode.
I’m not
naïve, but I try to believe in the potential in most humans and that most
humans have a basic decency—a basic humanity. It’s appalling to see people you
know as normally generous turn into bigoted animals snarling over their
territory. Fear causes weird and sometimes melodramatic reactions, but times
like these call for logic and cool heads—not irrationality and fear mongering.
What
finally pushed me to write is the following post (this is not an attack on
Franklin Graham. I don’t even know him. He’s simply saying what too many others
are agreeing with or saying themselves. I’m using him only because he was my
last straw.):
I have
two simple responses to this. I refuse to over think it.
On the
pedestal of the Statue of Liberty, is transcribed Emma Lazarus’ “The New Colossus.”
The most famous lines are, “Give me your tired, your poor,/Your huddled masses yearning to breathe
free,/The wretched refuse of your teeming shore./Send these, the homeless,
tempest-tost to me,/I lift my lamp beside the golden door!" (http://www.libertystatepark.com/emma.htm).
The
Statue of Liberty, arguably one of the most recognizable American symbols, used
to stand as a literal beacon for the tired and poor, for those whose own
countries treated them as “refuse,” for the homeless and “tempest-tost.”
America is a country of immigrants. Unless you’re a “Native American” (they
also immigrated at some point in history), someone in your family immigrated.
Period. So why, once we’re a few generations removed from the old countries, do
we become xenophobic? At what point do we become so America-centric we lose all
sense of the humanity of others? Is it because we refuse to even recognize the
humanity of our own citizens? Do we only believe in equality when it’s
connected to hatred—we can equally hate ALL people not like us? Is it because
we have no room for love for our own citizens, so how could we possibly scrape
up a modicum of decency and compassion for people who don’t look or worship
like us? Or, is it because we must fear reprisal from our own citizens for
treating them like others, like animals; therefore, we would naturally fear
citizens of other countries?
For my
Bible-minded readers, I thought I would also pull something more recognizable: “The
Parable of the Good Samaritan.” I’m Christian partly because it is familiar to
me and partly because I truly appreciate Jesus’ teachings. Over the years, I’ve
come to analyze the Bible with a more critical eye, but I can still rely on
Jesus for logic and compassion. For those not familiar or who need reminding:
On
one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he asked,
“what must I do to inherit eternal life?”
“What is written in the Law?” he replied. “How do you read
it?”
He
answered, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul
and with all your strength and with all your mind’; and, ‘Love your neighbor as
yourself.’”
“You have answered correctly,” Jesus replied. “Do this and
you will live.”
But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And
who is my neighbor?”
In
reply Jesus said: “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he was
attacked by robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away,
leaving him half dead. A priest happened to be going down the same road, and
when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. So too, a Levite, when he
came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as
he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him.
He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put
the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him. The next
day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’
he said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may
have.’
“Which
of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands
of robbers?”
The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on
him.”
Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.” (Luke 10:25-37, New
International Version
I tell
my students not to make assumptions about the reader’s understanding and not to
expect the reader to make connections, so allow me to break it down for you. An
“expert” of the law wants to test Jesus on the commandments, the way set for
“eternal life.” Dude seems to be okay with loving God with his whole heart, but
needs to phone a friend about the “love your neighbor” part. I’m probably
reading too much into it, but I imagine the “expert” was hoping Jesus would
define “neighbor” as only those who look and believe like the man. Isn’t that
why we work to segregate our neighborhoods and schools? Isn’t that why people
join those HOA’s? Definitely want my neighbors to have the same color roof and
skin as I do. Then it’s way easier to love them.
Unfortunately,
being a radical human being, Jesus drops some truth on that “expert” of
Biblical law/scripture. Being an effective teacher, Jesus makes it as
understandable as possible to avoid confusion and miscommunication: a man
travels from point A to point B. Robbers accost him, then strip, beat, and
leave him for dead. Wonder if the robbers left him with proper documentation to
prove who he was?
The
first person to pass by is a priest. Being a shining example of godly love, the
priest crosses to the other side of the road. Next, a Levite (one of the Jewish
tribes) passes by, sees the man, and also crosses to the other side. Now, Jesus
does not state the beaten man’s race or religion, but two people who would know
God’s law pass by the man. They even work to get as far away from the man as
possible.
Last,
Jesus says a Samaritan sees the man. He takes pity on the man, disinfects and
bandages his wounds, puts the man on the Samaritan’s donkey, and takes the man
to an inn—charging them to care for the man. The next day the Samaritan pays
the innkeeper and states he will reimburse the innkeeper for any incurred
expenses.
There
are so many remarkable aspects to this story. Jewish people considered
Samaritans as lower class since Samaritans intermarried with non-Jews and
didn’t keep the law; however, the Samaritan didn’t stop to ask the man’s race
or religion. He simply saw another human being in need and gave that human aid.
Did the Samaritan fear the man was lying there as a trap for a larger plan? Did
the Samaritan bemoan all the poor people not being cared for in his own town?
Did the Samaritan worry the robbers might return and beat him or seek
retribution for aiding their victim? No, he saw through the dirt and blood
covering the man, saw someone stripped bare (literally and figuratively) and
laid low by circumstances, saw someone who was robbed of his possessions and
dignity—and that Samaritan showed love. Not hate, not fear, not anger. He gave
unconditional love to his neighbor.
I am
not an idealist. I do sometimes look for hopeful qualities in humanity. I know
we live in a frightening world where people commit unspeakable acts toward each
other. However, if I have to die over a choice I’ve made, I’d rather the reason
be showing someone love. As someone who believes in a higher power and believes
in a purpose larger than myself, I also have to believe in something larger
than fear. That something is love.
And if
your beliefs are not making you a better person, you’re doing it wrong.
