6 minute read
Anthropology by Joanna DeWolf
DAY 16 ANTHROPOLOGY
By Joanna DeWolf
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Speaker, editor, and teacher
“We have met the enemy and he is us.” - Pogo
Istill remember the first time a friend stabbed me in the back. Figuratively, of course. The emotional wound, however, felt every bit as real as if someone had stolen out from around the corner, stealthily crept up behind me and sunk a switchblade between my shoulder blades. Sitting at the kitchen table that night, I struggled to get my breath, wrestling to find the words for the emotions. Tears were the blood of my broken heart. Once the initial bleeding had been bandaged up, it was clear I would have to determine how to keep moving forward. I now had to live in a world in which a best friend could somehow be a worst enemy as well.
It was an anthropology crisis.
I’ve been an anthropology major ever since. Anthropology: the study of humankind. In order to be a world changer, like it or not, you’re going to have to pick up the major as well. Because what you believe about humans will drastically affect how you go about changing the world and the people who live here.
Problem-solvers tend toward idealism. Seeing the possibilities in the problems. Looking for the beauty we know is temporarily shrouded by the external difficulty. A common experience, however, for idealists is to be blindsided by the underside of humanity.
It is so easy on the front end to romanticize people groups. This seems especially true when the people group is very different than our own. We admire “their” simple living, “their” respect for elders, “their” perseverance in the face of difficulty, “their” fill-in-the-blank. Lost in that admiration and passion for our cause, we plow forward doing the work when the unexpected occurs. That young teen who has tried your patience week after week walks out the back door and hurls a rock through the window. The young man in whom you’ve invested hours in skill training with the agreement that he will teach another quits unexpectedly, avoiding your phone calls. The precious grandmother whose smile lights up the room whenever you enter treats another with unguarded contempt due to flat-out prejudice. The committed volunteer’s three girlfriends who have recently found out about each other show up at your office. The accountant caught after years of embezzling from the company.
Ah…here’s what Shakespeare wrote plays about, history retells repeatedly and most religions seek to explain and remedy: humans are full of light and darkness. Visualize a huge picture window sectioned into many panes. From a distance, the window is clear, letting the light stream through. When seen as a whole, it is the architect’s show piece: bright and beautiful. Then move closer. Wait, there’s a spot in that pane. Now a cloudy section over here. A dark streak across this one. Every pane of the window is marred in some way—some parts more obviously than others, but each one marked. Just like that window, the closer we get to others, the more blemishes we see. In the words of a John Ortberg book title, Everyone’s Normal Until You Get to Know Them.
breaks apart the barriers between us. I wish I were all light and beauty all the time; but I am not. “They” aren’t either. Strangely, the darkness reveals more clearly our similarities. If we allow them to, it is our weaknesses that can draw us together, erasing the line between us and them. But how? How can we let the darkness knit us together rather than tear us apart? I can share with you simply my own story. The story repeated time and again in my life. When faced with a new disappointment wrapped in different clothes, I tend to follow the same pattern. Sometimes it takes just a few hours, other times months. Each time, however, the path forward is the same.
My first reaction to being hurt is to fight back. I tend to be quick to anger, and my words can come loud and fast. This is why the first step for me to take in these situations is to step back. Create physical space between the person or the situation and myself. Then I look for someone who loves me. And I pour out the pain. “She did this. He said that. How could he? Why would he? I wish I could…” Let it all out. Pent up emotion comes out at all the wrong times and places. Choosing to let it out in places of safety with people who love me protects me from myself.
Then I breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. When I can breathe normally again and relax most of my muscles, it is time to go to work.
Pushing my mind out of the present and into the past, I try to remember. Remember the times I have disappointed those I care deeply about. Remember the balls I’ve dropped. Remember the times that I’ve seriously considered choosing to inflict wounds and how long those thoughts stayed in my heart and mind. Remember the look on a loved one’s face as I spoke in anger. I remember my own darkness. This memory work offers me the first gift of darkness: solidarity. We are not alone in feeling or inflicting pain. This tendency toward darkness is part of the human condition. We have all been on both sides of the gun. When I have dwelled in the shadowy places for as long as I need to experience empathy over anger, it is time to move ahead. In every soul exists light as well. A time existed, often just an hour or a day before in which I saw the light in that person. The next step is to find the light again. Just as I am capable of harming, I am just as capable of healing. This friend has walked alongside me. Can I remember what that felt like? Can I recall the moments we have laughed together and worked side by side? This renewed sense of camaraderie gives me the motivation to do the next task of the work: give grace.
Many people see grace as a blank check. They think it is letting others walk all over us, doing whatever they like, whenever they please. Over the years, I’ve come to believe that grace is more than that. A preacher once defined grace as getting what I need and not what I deserve. That makes sense. But it often requires more discernment and courage than what I have. In my own life, this is where I’m not sure I could work this step without Jesus. This is where I pray by listening, asking God to show me how to respond in a way that is what my friend needs rather than what I think he deserves. Over the years, this step has looked very different depending on the situation. Sometimes it means cutting ties and sometimes it means not addressing an issue at all. Sometimes it means killing with kindness and other times it is speaking the truth in love. Always the steps include a change of my heart that truly desires the best for the other person.
And then I carry on. My step a little more cautious. My gaze lowered a little. But my heart set toward love. There is a work I am meant to do. I’m naïve if I think it will be easy. I’m ignorant if I think there won’t be pain. I’m wise when I embrace the darkness and light in others. I’m genuine when I face the light and darkness in me. I will change my small part of this earth when I offer myself and others the gift of grace.
