I have always had a really big problem with weakness. Not because I've never been 'weak.' Not because I don't understand that the bible views our weakness as a positive. And not because I take society's view the strong should rule over the weak. I have just always felt that weakness was somehow wrong.
I know why I think this way. As a child, I was taught to be strong. Being strong in my household meant not showing weakness. Crying, being a tattle tale, overt displays of emotion and indecision were frowned upon. Any action that did not meet the criteria of being 'strong' was immediately met with scorn, derision and rejection. It taught me that the weak were to be despised. It taught me that the only value to be found in the world was to be 'superior' to another person. As an adult, I understand that I was taught wrongly about this subject. As an adult, I understand that weakness was rejected in me because my mother rejected the weakness in her. And that my grandmother rejected the weakness in my mother because her own mother had rejected the weakness in her. And so on and so on. Family cycles, family curses.
Understanding this as an adult and remedying my behavior, however, has proven to be a difficult challenge.
I understand that our ideas of weakness, as a society, are based upon the Darwinic principles that 'only the strong survive' and that the strong shall rule over the weak. Which automatically leads to the conclusion that those who are seen as 'strong' will have better perks, better lives and better toys versus those who are not. Not only will the strong have more, they actually deserve more, if you follow this reasoning to its logical conclusion. The implication inherent in being perceived as 'strong' is that you have been divinely blessed (or gifted by nature, depending on your orientation). There is a time in history when kings and their subjects believed they were the earthly representation of God. So, being that God himself (or Mother Nature) had caused you to be stronger than your weaker brethren, you ought to have more than they, have a better job, get the bigger house or have the better car due to your elevated status. You are better than those who are weak. You are meant to rule over the feeble and the frail. That's what being strong is all about, isn't it?
Let's examine for a moment what society considers as 'strength.' Not long ago, I was struck with the realization that Donald Trump is our modern idea of a 'hero'. While watching the reality show 'The Apprentice', I got an opportunity to see the type of man society held up to me as an icon of strength, grit and perseverance. Trump represented all that our society valued - he was a self-made millionaire who had made his millions using only his intelligence and drive. He had done it 'his way'. As a result of his perseverance and determination, he had made a success of himself and had all the accoutrements of a wealthy man. In episode after episode, we were treated to glimpses of his fabulous life - the private jet and helicopter he owned, his fantastic penthouse home, his properties, his buildings, his resorts. He had shown himself to be 'strong', therefore he deserved to have such things. What really bothered me about watching this program was that at the end of each program, Mr. Trump would confront his would-be group of apprentices and alternately praise and chastise them for things they had done while engaging in their business-like 'challenges'. Praise fell strongly on those who proved themselves to be superior to their competitors by outmaneuvering, outwitting or outplaying their opponents. Harsh criticism rained on those whom he perceived as 'soft'. The greatest crime you could commit, however, was refusing to 'stand up' for yourself. As formerly loyal teammates turned on each other, exposing each other's worst traits, the best strategy at such times was to vigorously defend yourself and highlight the faults and failures of your teammates. Contempt, derision, and dislike were in abundance at these meetings. The most scorn and the most disdain, however, were held in reserve for those who sat there and said nothing.
Yet our Lord and savior went to the cross without ever having uttered a word in his defense. Was this because he was 'weak'? I had to wonder. I'll be honest - I've always had a big problem with Jesus washing his disciples' feet. If I had been the Messiah (and thank God I am not and never will be!), I would never have done such a thing. Those disciples were beneath him! Jesus was Lord and Master of all, God in the flesh! They needed him, not vice versa! My instincts in that situation would have been to have all the disciples serve me. And, if I deigned to perform any service for them, they would be expected and required to show the appropriate gratitude for their undeserved blessing. Greater would be their rewards, I would reason, to be able to say they served the Messiah than the other way around. I was the one who was going to save their lives! And they didn't even appreciate it or me! They had shown themselves to be lazy, they questioned my every move, they publicly doubted me, they failed to remember a darned thing I taught them, and Judas was skipping out just now to collect money to turn me in to the Romans! How's that for gratitude? They should feel lucky I don't destroy them all right now. Die for them? More like they should die for me.
And that is what I would have thought. Truthfully. Honestly. I have always believed that the stronger you are, the more you should use that strength to take advantage of the weak. Oh, I never said it out loud, but I certainly believed it. Need something done on that church committee you're a part of? Delegate it to the low man on the totem pole. Need a glass of water, the phone hung up or your newspaper retrieved? Send the youngest person in the house. Need some heavy lifting done at work? Find the person whose job that was (even if you are capable of doing it yourself). And, if you happen to be that low man on the totem pole, that youngest person in the house, or that maintenance worker, scheme, plot or wait until you are no longer in those positions so that you can take advantage of those who come to take your place. That's life. That's how you get over. That's what makes a winner.
I thought...
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