September | 2023 | Hands of the Strong

The Wilderness of Bullies and Victims

Whether national politics or elementary school, we observe bullies and victims. It is not a new phenomenon. Seventy years ago, at West Spring Street School in New Albany, Indiana – I saw it – and felt it – on the playground. This ancient human reality goes all the way back to Cain and Abel, Joseph and his brothers, King David and Uriah, Pharoah and the Israelites, or King Herod or his wife murdering John the Baptizer. Bullies and victims are forged deeply into our emotional and moral foundations.

Literature is built on the anti-hero, victim, and hero motiff. It is a delicious formula that fits well in literature, movies, and television series. Still, this easy pattern is missing something critical and complex. It is the place of responsibility. It is the paradox of the cross. As H. Richard Niebuhr noted in his classic “The Responsible Self” (1963) ethical behavior requires sorting through the ambiguity and distortions of real life. Ethical behavior requires attention to a universal community and honest observation of the best intentions and failures brought by each and every actor.

A victim can often turn into the bully; the research is clear. The story of the man bullied at work who comes home to kick the dog is a familiar one. Most adult abusers were abused as children. Limiting our frame to either bully or victim is a gestalt that has gained a wide purchase in our society. It is the core “stuff” of the MAGA movement. It plays out in the courtroom, city halls and, even in the church. Politicians market in meanness. Tough talk and threats are confused as “strong leadership.” On the other side many can only see themselves as victim. So much of our social service efforts and congregational life assumes a primary task to rescue the victim from the bully – and, of course, we are to be cast as heroes rescuing the victim.

In the wake of the trial of United Methodist Bishop Minerva Carcaño there are persons on each side suggesting they have been victimized – and “the other” was a bully. What’s missing? I would argue it is responsibility to the larger community. Was it a struggle over power, gender, culture, money? Perhaps all of these, yes. How did we arrive at the point when good folks on each side are to be sorted into the “bully/victim” divide? Perhaps one party was unwilling to seek a responsible remedy before going to trial. Perhaps both parties were unwilling. But here we are… still living in the bully/victim wilderness.

There are many ways forward. (Many will point to Matthew 18 counsel on how handle a dispute. It is a good place to begin.) However, I will start by borrowing from Robert Greenleaf’s notion of Servant Leadership. He writes of a servant leader’s responsibility in this way: “The best test, and difficult to administer, is: do those served grow as persons; do they, while being served, become healthier, wiser, freer, more autonomous, more likely themselves to become servants? And, what is the effect on the least privileged in society; will he or she benefit, or at least, will he or she not be further deprived?” (The Servant Leader, p. 7)

Might it be that while dollars, publicity, trust and energy were put into a drama of victimhood or bullying, the opportunity to act on the behalf of the least privileged among us has been lost?

Abundance at the Doorstep

There he was. Comfortably situated on the front steps, he was. We will call him “Andy.” I thought I recognized him the first time I passed but didn’t speak.

It was a shady spot. Good place for a breather and a smoke. He wasn’t in anyone’s way. It was Friday and these steps wouldn’t be needed until Sunday. Doors were locked. All the doors locked, each entrance around that church building. Locked. It was Friday noon. I tried an entrance on the other side of the building. Locked. There was a phone number to call. No answer. Disappointed, as I wanted to introduce my friend De’Amon to some of the folks there, we retraced our steps. Andy was still resting on the front steps.

His gear was scattered around him on the steps – helmet, belt pack, notebook, lighter. In front of him, between us, a nice bicycle, a good barrier – just in case. De’Amon and I approached. I caught his eye and opened with “Don’t I know you? You seem so familiar to me.” His eyes sparkled and his handsome ebony features all seemed to join the fun. “No, don’t think so.” I took off my hat so he could catch a clearer view. “You kinda familiar, but I don’t recall. I used to work in a nursing home in town, perhaps you knew me there.”

“Yeh, I think that’s it,” I responded. “I think I knew you back when.” He smiled, “I worked there for almost twenty years – of course that was a while ago.” Laughing I said, “I think you nailed it; I remember you there.” “Good work it was,” he replied, “but I got tired of seeing my friends die.”

De’Amon is pictured with Michael Mather. longtime friend and colleague.

I could have walked by but didn’t. You see, I was with the original “Roving Listener,” De’Amon Harges. He has listened tens of thousands into friendship. He can discover human-buried-treasures. He finds a depth of resources so often overlooked. De’Amon has helped establish networks of mutuality where others saw only poverty, alienation, or separation. He has taught thousands of folks around the world, from all social strata, about the value of social capital, the value of “neighboring.”

What choice did I have? It was like a test, a gift, a challenge, and Andy was there right beside us. I broke the ice. Off we went. De’Amon asked Andy about his work, his history, where he grew up, what he does best, what he is hoping to do in the future. We found out Andy had his own business, cleaning buildings. Had enough work to hire some others as well. “But they better be willing to work. I mean, seriously, it is my name on the business.” We got Andy’s phone number and thanked him for the visit.

As we left, I whispered to De’Amon “There it is, abundance on the doorstep of the church.” We laughed and knew this story would one day be in a sermon. But would such gifts, such opportunities remain outside?