Because the temptation is real, the provocation is great, and it definitely takes two to tango.
I’m determined not to lump people with different beliefs or agendas into an “other” category in my mind, but I can’t simply forget the fact that many of those same people see me as an “other.”
When we had an African-American family in the White House, it hurt me on a very deep and visceral level to read comments comparing the First Lady to an ape. You can’t stoop much lower than that! It had nothing to do with policies or agendas or even politics, really. I heard the underlying message as: you can reach the highest position in the land but you’re still not good enough…you’re still the “other.”
When we step up, commit to doing better, and “take the high road,” sometimes it means we have to turn the other cheek, as it were. It also means working hard to remember that a person is not their behavior; that we can love the sinner while objecting to their sin; and that we can hold the space for someone to grow, improve, and eventually transform.
This is a tall order, because sometimes we rebel against having to be that “good!” Actually, a very old memory along these lines resurfaced as I was thinking about all this…
When I was a sophomore in high school I tried out for the cheerleading team, which meant lots of afterschool practices. Now, I was a good kid — father on the school board; mother active in community events; got good grades; played flute in the band; responsible-like — so I had all the routines down and was always at all the practices,
Tryouts were drawing near and emotions were running high. Paula Foreman, the varsity cheerleader in charge of the practice, insisted on going over and over and over a routine that some of the girls hadn’t learned yet. It was frustrating.
At some point, I let my frustration show with a small eye roll and a big sigh, and Paula caught it. “Look at Sharon’s attitude,” she taunted. And I lost it, yelling: “Don’t you give me any sh– about my attitude!” You could have heard a pin drop. Everybody was shocked — cheerleaders, basketball players, and anyone else in the gym that afternoon — because they’d never seen me blow up like that before. It didn’t fit their image of me.
Well, it didn’t fit my image of myself, either. But it taught me something about the relativity of expectations. I can’t seem to put it into words at the moment (maybe because this is already so long and it’s quite late!), but I’m pretty sure it’s still informing my behavior to this day.
