Last
week, on a whim, I took my kids to a music concert that was being
held at our local community hall. I saw the poster in the afternoon
and ten minutes before the show was about to start, decided we'd go.
So I told the kids to get ready to come to this thing with me. The
concert was fine but was not really the main event of this story –
it was simply the setting.
Of
course, when you send your kids to get ready to go in ten minutes,
even when you only live two minutes away from the hall, you are
guaranteed to be some of the last people there. And we were. We
ended up in the second last row of the hall, seated behind two rows
only partly filled, but mostly with a group of about eight junior
high boys. I'm guessing their ages because I didn't really know any
of them. I recognized one boy from the hazy, distant past and
another boy looked vaguely familiar but I wouldn't have been able to
say who he belonged to or what his name was. Regardless, the boys
clearly all knew each other, and I was guessing, judging from the
general crowd, that they went to the same church together.
These
boys were very well behaved for the first part of the show,
respectfully listening and engaged. But by about halfway through
they began to get restless. To ease the tension, they somehow,
without any obvious discussion, decided that the best thing to do was
to bug one of their buddies. So his hat would get stolen and hidden,
he would be tapped on the shoulder or poked from behind, some little
fabric ball would either be tossed at him or kept from him, whichever
he didn't want. “All in good fun.” No one was getting hurt,
they were quiet, they were in the back with only three or four other
parties, so very few people were being distracted, maybe only me.
But
there is nothing that arouses strong negative feelings in me more
than one person being picked on by a crowd. The kid was with his
buddies and in a public space, so he couldn't get angry at them, but he also clearly wasn't having
as much fun as the rest of them were. I tell my kids that when
everyone's having fun except one, then it isn't fun – it's mean.
And I also have a tendency to side with the underdog, so when the kid
in front of me started kicking his buddy in the backside from behind,
I could barely contain myself. He kept this up for awhile while I
tried to talk myself out of getting involved. I wasn't his mother or
aunt or grandma; I wasn't his teacher or youth leader or pastor. I
was a complete stranger with no “right” to reprimand him. But I
couldn't squelch my strong sense of “responsibility” to protect a
weaker child from the group.
So I
did it.
I
pulled up my chair and hissed “Stop!” in the kicker's ear.
My
heart pounded furiously in my chest, from righteous indignation or
shock at my own action, I couldn't tell. The kicking quit
immediately and the two rows in front of me were quiet for the rest
of the show. I saw them outside later, and the whole group, all
eight of them, seemed to be in fine spirits, so no obvious damage
done.
So,
did I do the right thing? Was I demonstrating compassion or simply
my need for control and order? Is it right to get involved when you
have no prior relationship? I was so distracted by this event that I
walked out of the hall without greeting the three ladies seated near
me, whom I knew and had prior relationships with. (I'm sorry Angela,
Melony and Gertrude.) Wouldn't greeting them have been a more
positive demonstration of concern and compassion than hissing in some
strange kid's ear?
Almost
a week has gone by and I still can't decide if I deserve a gold star
or a serious demerit. Or both. For some people, this would be all
in a day's work and wouldn't phase them a bit, but I'm wondering if
this is how I deal with people generally in my life – hissing at
strangers instead of “hello-ing” at neighbours. Is that the kind
of person I want to be?
Therefore,
as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved,
clothe
yourselves with compassion, kindness,
humility,
gentleness and patience.
Col.
3:12
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