I learned this week that a kid I knew growing up had passed away. This seems to be happening with more frequency, and I am usually saddened by the development, but this time I had mixed feelings. I met him when I was ten years old, and my family moved across town to a new neighborhood. He lived up the street a few houses, and when we first met he told me he wanted to be my friend, which pleased me, since one can never have enough friends. But the next day, while walking home from school, he pushed me to the ground, held me down, and spit in my face. I was so embarrassed, I didn’t tell anyone. If I had told my big brothers, they would have defended me, but I was too humiliated to tell anyone, so I kept quiet.
I’d never been treated like that before, so assumed it was an anomaly, and that it wouldn’t happen again if I just gave him the chance to be my friend. So a few days later, when he asked if I wanted to play football, I said yes, glad for the opportunity to have a fresh start. But the first time I ran the ball, he tackled me to the ground, held me down, and spit in my face again. I was mystified by this, unable to make sense of his behavior. How could I have let him do this twice? Since it wasn’t the movies, I didn’t take karate lessons from a Japanese handyman and pay my tormentor back. I just avoided him, walking home from school the long way around, making sure our paths never crossed again, and that we were never alone.
When you’re a Quaker, you take seriously the belief that there is that of God in every person. You want to believe people aren’t always who they appear to be, that underneath the bullying façade is a saint waiting to be born, if given the chance, that every Genghis Khan is a Gandhi yearning to be known. I had a Little League coach, Mr. Leath, who once told me, “There is so much good in the worst of us, and so much bad in the best of us, that it hardly behooves any of us to talk poorly about the rest of us.” Mr. Leath would have made a good Quaker. I desperately wanted to believe that what he said was true, that even the worst of us have something good in us, and I tried believing that, I truly did. But now I believe that when someone shows us who they are, we should believe them.
We’ve been talking about the do’s and don’ts in times of change. Significant social change often reveals our real nature. In normal times, we can keep our true selves hidden, pretending to a nobility we do not actually possess. But the winds of change have a way of blowing away the chaff and dross, until the true self is revealed. That is when the mask slips and people are most likely to show us who they really are. When they show us who they are, we should believe them. If we don’t believe them, if we believe their poor conduct is an anomaly, a deviation from their true character, we become much more vulnerable to their abuse, and not just their abuse of us, but their abuse of others.
When someone shows you who they are, believe them. When they consistently lie, consistently cheat, consistently disparage others, consistently use their power to harm not help, believe they are showing you who they are. Don’t be deceived. When the world’s wealthiest man stands at the presidential podium and gives a Nazi salute, he is showing us who he is. When a leader talks about law and order, but violates the norms of democracy, don’t be deceived. It looks like what it is. When someone shows you who they are, believe them.
We Quakers love stories of transformation, we love to hear that people have rejected evil to embrace righteousness. We’re in the business of hope. We live for moral makeovers. It thrills us. We love to see greedy people become generous, racist people become welcoming, homophobic people become tolerant, warmongers become peacemakers. We love that. Indeed, sometimes we love it so much, we claim transformation has happened when it hasn’t.
Years ago, a man on the fringes of the meeting I pastored got drunk and beat his girlfriend. He phoned me a week later, drunk, asking me to visit the hotel where he was living, so I went. He asked me to pray that he would stop abusing alcohol and people, so I met and prayed with him several times. I wanted so badly for him to turn his life around, I encouraged his girlfriend to give him another chance, that God had changed him. The next weekend she phoned to tell me he had come to her apartment and beaten her again. When someone shows you who they are, you should believe them.
If people tell us they want to make America great, then run roughshod over our Constitution, when they tyrannize those of low estate, when they value wealth over decency, when everyone is at fault but them, when they rip gaping holes in the safety nets our parents and grandparents so kindly and carefully wove together these past 90 years to help the elderly and poor, when they cause us to hate and mistrust one another, then we have every right to question not only their objectives but their hearts. When people show us who they are, we should believe them.
I am not asking you to be cynical or distrustful. More than ever we need people to be optimistic and hopeful, to not cover ourselves in clouds of gloom. So never lose hope. But also remember the gospel we have pledged to honor, to love God and neighbor, while keeping close to our hearts the counsel of Jesus, that he has sent us forth as sheep in the midst of wolves, to be wise as serpents and harmless as doves. Be loving, but be wise, don’t be duped, and remember that in days like these, when someone shows you who they are, believe them.