A lesson in bravery

Come on, let him know you’re angry and show your teeth.”

Who has heard this advice before? Never pick a fight, but if you’re pushed too far, must you retaliate?

With clenched fist.

This is contrary to what we’ve been taught: that it is better to turn the other cheek, not once, but 7x7, until your opponent sees the light, and peace is restored and conflict abated.

But what if your kids are involved?  Would you grit your teeth and exit with a whimper? 

I’d say, “Mister, you have just picked your worst adversary.”

STORY 1:

Lucas measures 6 feet tall or 1.82 meters while his classmate Angelo is half his size.  If by physical appearance alone, you would think that Lucas loomed over Angelo.

Wrong.

Angelo in fact constantly picked on Lucas to miff and harass.  Some say that the “Napoleonic complex” is at work here:  Those lacking in height compensates for it by acting tough and being mean.  Angelo would stand behind Lucas and squeeze his butt; he’d scream at Lucas, say all kinds of unkind and dirty words at him and taunt him by constantly touching him. 

Lucas continuously ignored Angelo until one day, Angelo grabbed Lucas by his genitals.  Lucas instinctively threw a punch at Angelo.  However, Lucas realized what he had done and quickly apologized.  But Angelo was not about to take it on the chin, like a good sport.  

While the teachers intervened and separated the two boys, Lucas was asked to wait in the office of the guidance counselor.

Angelo appeared shortly with his father.  The father lunged at Lucas, slapping him hard and hurling a barrage of obscenities at him.  Lucas kept apologizing, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Fuming with rage, the father signaled at his bodyguard to get his shoulder bag that contained a loaded gun.  He poked the gun direct to the temple of Lucas.  He sneered at Lucas and shouted, “Do you want me to shoot you?  I can shoot you right now!”

Lucas was gripped with terror.  He kept repeating, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

The father, knowing that he had sowed fear, continued to malign Lucas with slanderous words.

“What a shame,” he mocked.  “This boy is big and strong but too bad, he is crazy.” 

The entire incident was witnessed by classmates and some members of the faculty, but they were too shaken to take appropriate action.

Many questions arose. 

How did the father get past the campus security with his bodyguard and his loaded gun?

Why did the administration and the school faculty allow this bullying to persist until it spun out of control? 

The incident was brought to the attention of the barangay and the police.

The case is now being heard in court, but as expected, the primary witnesses — teachers, classmates, and security guards — have changed their tune, implicating Lucas as the mastermind, the troublemaker, and the bully.  If you are under danger of getting hurt or losing your life, would you change your stand, too, and allow the perpetrators to get away with it?

Guns, goons, and gold:  It’s a tactic that power-obsessed people use to terrify people and, in extreme cases, silence the witnesses and victims, permanently.

Where is justice here?

Please remember that moral law is above and beyond human law.  The just and the righteous will eventually emerge as the victors.

Be brave, Lucas.  You carry the sword of truth.  Fight with it.                  

* * *

STORY 2:

I enrolled my daughter, Chessy, in a Catholic school in a Jewish neighborhood. She was cheerful, even-tempered, and always believed in the inherent goodness of man.  She never lied and expected every girl her age to be the epitome of innocence, until she met Natalie.  This girl packed trouble for lunch.  She liked Chessy and picked on her every day.  She was Chessy’s tormentor. 

When the teacher asked the class to form a line, she’d push Chessy out of line.  When Chessy was in the company of other classmates, she’d hurl expletives at her, stick out her tongue, and blame Chessy for every fracas she had cooked up in school.  Worse, whenever she’d catch Chessy off guard, she’d charge at her so forcefully that she’d fall, resulting in a scraped knee or a nasty cut on her head. 

“Mama,” she cried.  “Natalie has not stopped pestering me.”

“Did you report her to your teacher?” I asked.

“Yes,” she replied.  “But she merely told Natalie not to do it again and to be nice.  She seems to get away with her bad behavior,” she bemoaned.

 “Harrumph,” I thought, as black, cumulus clouds formed on top of my head, accompanied by claps of thunder and bolts of lightning.

 “Tomorrow, avoid Natalie,” I suggested.  “If she attacks you, I want you to sharpen your defenses and stay alert especially when you’re out in the school grounds.  When you see her from the corner of your eye, prepare yourself.  When she’s almost a touch-length from you, duck!  If she points an accusing finger at you, look nonchalant and tell your teacher ‘I dropped my pencil on the ground; why would Natalie be clobbering the wind behind me?’”

 I taught Chessy to use the element of surprise.  “You must move swiftly so you could beat Natalie at her own game.”

That day, Chessy came home whistling a happy tune.  There was an extra zing in her steps.

 “Mama,” she shrieked.  “It worked!”

Natalie hit her head and saw tweeting birds and shooting stars.  She scraped her knees and her elbows and was sent home with tadah… a bruised ego.

When they received their First Holy Communion, Natalie brought flowers for Chessy.  She sobbed, “Can we start again and be friends?”

Chessy fist-bumped me and declared, “Wow! Mama.”

  “Y-E-S!” I beamed.