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I'm One Of Them


Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position. Do not be conceited. (Romans 12:16 NIV)

          In Greco-Roman philosophy, if you were born rich and free, you did not work, and you didn’t associate with people who did. If you were born a slave (and most people were) you didn’t associate with the rich and free, and you didn’t get it into your head that you could ever be like them. It was improper for people of one class to aspire to another. Your position in life was determined by the gods, and defying them meant trouble. Power was everything and one didn’t reward the weak because that weakened them further. Weakness was not to be respected or admired. The notion of “survival of the fittest” was pervasive. Then came Jesus. He taught that to be first meant being last, and being a leader meant serving everyone. Those who helped “the least of these” got it right.
          Many years ago, as I put out stock in the Men’s department, I saw a little girl going up the down escalator. I called to her, “Please don’t play on the escalator.”
         Her father came down the escalator and announced that she was not playing.
          Later, as they again rode down the escalator, I heard him say something about people with “high school diplomas.”
          I didn’t correct his misapprehension, but it seems to me this is the sort of behavior Paul was warning about. We all need the warning because there’s always someone we think we are better than, whether that person is the mentally ill homeless person, or the wealthy businessman, politician, or celebrity. Our superiority might be financial, ethnic, educational, religious, or any whatever. It’s whoever is one of them and not one of us.
          This is one of the problems I have with Liberal philosophy – it consistently identifies oppressed groups and announces its intention to help them to achieve an acceptable status in society. It sounds well-meaning, but it’s still based on the assumption that “they” aren’t good enough. They must be protected from everyone else or be given special rights that others don’t have. It’s still us and them.
         I have some “thems,” too. For me, one of the big “them” is just being a person. If you are a human being, that’s a point against you. I’m not going to go through all of my lists. There are too many. I’m not comfortable around most people for one reason or another. Everyone is a “them” of some sort, including me. I’m not proud of this reality, but that doesn’t mean it’s not reality.
         What I have found that helps me overcome some of my us/them thinking is my own downward mobility and my membership in quite a few groups of “them.” I was raised as a Protestant in a Catholic neighborhood and a “white collar” kid in a “blue collar” neighborhood. I am an Introvert in a society that prizes Extroverts, a thinker in a society that seems to idolize feelings. People have looked down their noses at me because I’m female. They’ve decided there must be something wrong with me because I’m not only single but celibate, or because I put so much time and effort into my education I haven’t made anything of myself. Others decide that because I try to live by Biblical principles, that I am ugly, mad, bad, sad, or evil, and should not be permitted to have any influence in society, or to procreate. I live in a thirty plus year old, four hundred square foot motorhome for 6 months out of every year, and I share it with another person and a dog. Tell me how that doesn’t make me trailer trash. My thirteen year job as a glorified stock clerk for a company that has been actively trying to go out of business gives few reason to hire me to do something more in line with my desires, and one of the things I learned getting my MBA is that I don’t want to be the sort of person businesses want to hire. Even at my best income, I never made the median income for people on welfare, and right now, a welfare family probably makes as much in a month (or two) as I make in a year. There are even some people who believe that because my (recent) ancestry is English, Irish, French and German that I am contemptibly racist.
           Last year, I discovered my membership in yet another group that is despised: snowbirds. I overheard someone who lives in the park year around bad-mouthing folks who only visit for six months or less. I also stood in line at a buffet as an old man picked through the lettuce, and the woman in front of me turned and said, “I can’t way until they go home.”
          I answered what I am learning to answer all too often. “I’m one of them.” 

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