The Shunning

Some of the most dreadful and deepest hurts in my life came during junior high years. As a new kid, in a new town, in a new school, I was cast aside merely for being new and unknown. The worst moment of everyday was lunch. Entering that cafeteria and shamefully walking around the tables to find that one, lonely table. With the other losers. The other geeks. The castoffs. Sadly, little has changed in the adult world. We still cast off those not like us.
During a summer Sunday afternoon in 1996, after a traditional (and excruciatingly long) church service, the men had gathered at the picnic tables to wait for lunch to be served. Children ran and played in the yard. Woman chatted and laughed as they prepared sandwiches with ham and Muenster cheese and laid out an endless array of pies. Off on a distant table sat a solitary man. No one talked with him. No one looked at him. He ate nothing. I asked my host what was going on, and in a whisper he answered, "He's being shunned".
Most of you probably already know that while in college I spent a month with 2 different Amish families. I stayed with a family in Lancaster Pennsylvania and the other family in Holmes County Ohio. During my time with the Esh family in Lancaster I was able to witness a "shunning" in progress. For anyone not familiar with the term — though I suspect most of you immediately think of this — the real life practice is something completely different (and not funny). The man being shunned had broken unwritten laws of the Amish culture. First, he worked as a teacher at a public school. Second he had a computer. Eventually he'll be forced to either repent of his ways or leave the community. All that he's grown up with, the simple and foreign way of life that he knows, will be gone.
While it might seem harsh, the Amish are actively practicing something all of us inactively do. How often do we avoid, ignore or passively gossip about someone who has broken "the rules" of our cultures. This seems to be especially true of my fellow Christians. Regardless of the sin, either specific things the Bible speaks again or perceived sins (like smoking, drinking, watched Rated-R movies), when we know of someone's faults, follies, foibles and failures; we often unconsciously "shun" them. Forget showing grace, mercy or forgiveness, or the fact that many of us are just a foolish decision away from the very thing we're appalled by. The person that is struggling with depression, the person who has an addiction to porn, that couple who is divorcing (because of an affair). Once we have the knowledge of someone else's sin, we stay away. We put them on a table to sit alone with their problems. We shun.
In our self-righteousness we believe that we're better, or beyond, the struggles of others. That it could never possibily happen to us. Rather than find some grace and mercy, we silently cast our judgements, chatter with our friends, lift up our noses and turn our backs on the "sinner". And this isn't a pessimistic attitude about the human condition, it's a truthful and realistic view that all of us are capable of the worst sins. The people we push to the sides, the cast-offs, they are us. It's time we stop shunning others because of their sins, but find the grace to realize we're no better than anyone else, we're not without sin, and invite the back to the table.

Comments for "The Shunning"
So you're writing this to yourself as a reminder to not shun your dad?
by Geof F. Morris
∞ Monday, February 1st, 2010
[Geof] Pretty much, yes. What's going on how certainly fueled my thinking, but I still think a great deal of us are guilty of ostracizing others when we have a knowledge of their sin. I don't think that's someone Jesus did.
by Paul
∞ Monday, February 1st, 2010
I couldn't agree with you more, Paul. There's that one verse in the New Testament that talks about disassociating from an unrepentant Christian, but I think that it is way overused and abused. In part, I think this is due to a sense of discomfort resulting from fear of sympathy or understanding, because Christians are afraid of sin. Afraid like it's a communicable disease. Afraid of guilt by association. Afraid that they in some way, however small, might have the capability to commit the same sin. I know this because I've been such a Christian. I learned to be so through osmosis.
I remember being a kid in the grocery store with my Dad. As we walked down an aisle, my Dad grabbed me and spun me around. We left the grocery store. When I asked why, he told me that he saw xxx and his "girlfriend," (I could hear the scare quotes.) Apparently the man in question had divorced his wife and was now dating another woman. My Dad didn't believe in having contact with such a person.
There's more to it than this, though. I personally know four couples who are going through divorce at this moment. I don't know what to say to any of these people, or what to do for them. With those I see or talk to regularly I try to be light and supportive, as well as non-intrusive. Those I don't see by default — I want to be there for them, say I care and I am not here to judge them. But I don't even know if they want to hear from me, or if I will hurt one half of a broken couple by associating with the other half, as I've been told could be the case. It's not a matter of shunning as much as it is a matter of treading lightly. Very lightly. So, for the most part, I do nothing but pray.
by Mike
∞ Monday, February 1st, 2010