Saturday after Ash Wednesday
Being a jerk is easy. I'm serious. It often seems far easier to be a jerk than to live according to the commands and models we find in today's readings.
The first reading is full of anti-jerkitude (it's not a word, but it works). The opening "if" statements lay out the expectation from God that we "remove from [our] midst oppression, false accusation, and malicious speech; ... [that we] bestow [our] bread on the hungry and satisfy the afflicted." These are not always our easy, natural responses. In three personal examples from this past week I've experienced this challenge.
First, I recently saw a post from a high school classmate. He commented on how poorly he was treated in school. Let's not mince words. He stated that he was bullied and harassed at the Catholic High School he attended, specifically, to get away from that kind of behavior. I remember that treatment he suffered and while not the perpetrator, I didn't stop it. More than that, many of us failed to satisfy the afflicted but instead found satisfaction in another's affliction. But we've grown up, right? If we look at our humor, our conversations when someone is not in the room, or the way we treat the least among us, have we matured beyond this behavior? Do we satisfy the afflicted or find satisfaction in another's affliction?
Second, I recently reached out to two friends seeking prayers for a spirit of jadedness and exhaustion. I told them that I desired to fulfill the Gospel call to build up and encourage, but all I wanted to do was critique, criticize and cut-down. It's easier. It doesn't take as much energy. When I encourage, I put effort into seeking from the Lord the right words that are truthful and life-giving. That are meaningful to the person and sincere. Even sincere correction is a work done with much effort, but the criticism I was drawn to was the lazy kind. The kind that was more akin to false accusation.
Finally, I pulled up to an intersection recently and saw a man I had seen at Mass once or twice. He was sitting on the corner asking for assistance. Iggy was in the back of the car telling me a story and I tried to focus on it to drown out the dilemma about what to do. Instead of bestowing my bread on the hungry I stared at Iggy in the rear-view mirror as a moral conflict raged in my mind. A conflict that was only intensified because I was pretty sure I had broken bread with this man in the past. The battle raged in my mind. Should I try and scrounge some money from couple holders and bags? Would be appreciated or insulting to give him my kids' leftovers from breakfast? My indecision led to the end of the red light and I drove away having done nothing. I didn't even roll down the window and just talk to him. I was not a clinical physician listening to the needs of the patient, but a researcher running theories in my head until the light turned green. This is the opposite approach Jesus models in today's Gospel as he sits with tax collectors and sinners.
And this brings us back to being jerks. I don't think you're a jerk. I do think we're all tempted to be jerks. We're tempted to focus on others' failings while excusing our own. We find fault with others' successes. We presume when people do things differently than we would, they are doing it for the worst reasons and with ill intent. We are tempted to stare resolutely at the dirt on our windshield before looking at the man next to us.
No I don't think you are a jerk, but if my week means anything, it means we are tempted to be jerks. The Lord knows this and calls us back from that. A first step in responding to this call in Isaiah today, "hold back your foot on the sabbath from pursuing your own pursuits on my holy day." Let's give God a little more control over our agenda, especially this Sunday. This can be a small start to fighting our selfishness. If we can think of ourselves less, than we can think of others more. Maybe if we think about people enough than we'd find ourselves at table with some unexpected people. What an amazing opportunity to share with them the man who convinces me day in and day out, that even though not being a jerk is hard, it's absolutely worth it.
- Spencer Hargadon