In the social hierarchy of America’s secondary schools, there is a cyclical and time-honored tradition of selective exclusivity that occurs between upperclassmen and their freshmen counterparts. Although it can manifest itself in the outright bullying and/or hazing of an incoming class, it is more often merely the quiet but pointed dis-association of one peer group from another. Otherwise known as: Seniors do not talk to ninth graders.
I’m not sure when Moses brought this commandment down from the mountain, but the moment we enter high school, we all adhere to the unwritten rule that Freshmen are to be in awe of seniors while Seniors treat freshmen as if they are scum. We know that the sophomores went through the same thing last year and that that eighth graders will get the same treatment 12 months from now. In the meantime, we endure it. We put in our time. We may quietly pledge that it will be different when we are at the top of the totem pole, but invariably the cycle continues. Our only consolation when seniors flaunt their superiority is the knowledge that four years ago, someone did the same thing to them.
However, when I was a freshman, I met a young woman who changed my opinion of upperclassmen forever. I had gone over to the school in order to buy my books and drop them off in the locker I had been assigned so that I was not lugging in all of my supplies on the first day (and looking like a nerd.) As I made my way through the parking lot, I saw a group of senior girls talking and laughing the way good friends do.
From what I overheard of their conversation, I realized that one was the daughter of my father’s co-worker and while, I didn’t “know” her per se, her reputation preceded her. I knew her to be an exceptionally bright individual and if all went according to plan, she would most likely be the class Valedictorian the following spring.
In the interest of making a connection with such an important person, I waited until she finished her conversation with her friends and went into the building before I approached her. I knew I was breeching all of the accepted etiquette by introducing myself, but I couldn’t help it. I threw caution to the wind and in a rambling, disjointed monologue, I explained how we were “connected.” I had no reason to believe that she would give me the time of day, but to my surprise, she offered me a big smile and said, “Oh yeah, my dad has talked about your dad and I heard you would be a freshman this year! How are you?”
I have no idea if her statement was true or not, but in that moment, as a lowly freshman, she made me feel like a million bucks and to her credit, whenever we passed each other in the hallway, she was quick to wave or say hello. Lord knows she didn’t have to and I would have understood if she didn’t, but she did and to this day I am profoundly grateful that she chose kindness. It’s been over three decades since that incident and yet, I’ve never forgotten how nice she was to me.
You can tell a lot about a person by the way they treat others, especially those on the lower rungs of the social ladder. While it is easy to be smug, especially when you have achieved a certain amount of seniority, it is much harder to lift someone up and claim them for your own. It requires humility, kindness, generosity, and love. It requires one to stand strong in the face of potential backlash and personal persecution. It requires someone willing to break through a time-honored tradition and start a new trend. It requires us to be other worldly, to remember that we have a higher purpose and that there is glory in doing good. It requires us to be a role model to others. It requires us to be the saints we are called to be.
It requires us to be Christ-like and reflect the light of God.
Today’s readings for Mass: ACTS 16: 1-10; PS 100 1B-2, 3, 5; JN 15: 18-21
