“Every happening, great and small, is a parable whereby God speaks to us, and the art of life is to get the message.” — Malcolm Muggeridge
Parables sometimes are not easily understood, requiring us to work to grasp their meaning. Sometimes, we simply refuse to hear the message.
Then, there are parables whose message comes through loud and clear from the get-go.
During these days of face masks and elbow bumps I’ve been reminded of one parable from my childhood, when I really learned the Golden Rule.
Joe was a fourth grade classmate of mine. He was a tall guy with a crooked smile. He was not a gifted athlete, not a straight-A student, nor did he posses a glib sense of humor.
What he was, was a damn fine artist, a talent not valued by most of the fourth grade boys. Joe was considered a sissy. I remember feeling sorry for him, and yet powerless to do anything about it.
Joe was one of seven children. His family didn’t have a lot of money. They wore hand-me-downs, and I noticed Joe’s sweaters were frayed and he had holes in his shoes. Joe’s mother was our afternoon recess monitor. You couldn’t miss her because she walked with two canes, a childhood victim of polio.
One day Joe came to school with his head wrapped in a strange, turban-like contraption. When we discovered he was wearing it because he’d been diagnosed with head lice, all hell broke loose. Joe was unmercifully taunted and ostracized, left to sit by himself at the back of the class. I remember both feeling sad for Joe and frightened for myself. I couldn’t help but wonder:
- What if it was me with head lice?
- What if that were me sitting alone?
- What if I were being so tormented?
When I switched places with Joe I felt as he must be feeling. It hurt.
The thing was, Joe was in my scout den. We had been taught to look out for our fellow den brothers. The bind was being loyal to Joe meant standing up against the whole class. For a fourth grader, that was one tall order.
I needed some wise counsel.
So at our next den meeting, which Joe couldn’t attend, several of us shared what was going on with our den mother, who just happened to be my mother.
As it turned out she was a fountain of wisdom. Mom was no stranger to head lice; they had been common when she was a kid growing up in the Depression. She told us there was nothing whatsoever to fear in head lice, that they were a nuisance, and when properly treated, were easily dispensed with. Yes, she said, the head covering looked strange, but was it really any different than a cast you wore when you broke your arm?
Mom said we had to become masters of our own fear. She explained that people fear what they don’t understand, sometimes masking their fear with cruelty. She also said people sometimes conquer their fear through the courage of others, and that Den Three needed to become an example to the fourth grade class by courageously standing up for Joe.
Well, her pep talk was all we needed. In no time Den Three developed a plan, our “Stand Up for Joe” plan.
- We walked to and from school with Joe,
- We all played together at recess,
- We ate our lunches together.
The harassment quickly ended. There was no more shunning or name calling. The head lice were soon gone and things returned to normal. But it was a new normal. Joe was treated with more respect, as was Den Three.
We learned that when we stood together to do the right thing, we gave permission to others to do the same.
When I walk through my neighborhood now in my face mask, I see Black Lives Matter signs on many lawns. I am reminded of that childhood parable, when I first learned the power of people to courageously join together for what is right.
Just a thought…
Pat
Copyright © 2020 Patrick J. Moriarty. All Rights Reserved.
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