Even though I was in high school when I first read it, "Animal Farm" still gave me nightmares. I did my best to learn the lessons between the lines, but mostly I was disturbed by the walking, talking, whip-carrying pigs. It was the same for "Lord of the Flies." (Again with the pigs!) I managed to overcome my intense dislike for the stories long enough to learn one thing: absolute power corrupts absolutely. (Ms. Goldmann would be so proud.)
Do you know what else corrupts? Money. But then again, money is tied to power, so I'm not saying anything new here when I say money corrupts. Whatever gives people a sense of power corrupts.
I accidentally conducted an experiment on socio-economic divisions with my youth group last weekend. (Haven't we all, though?) It just happened. See, we spend our Saturday doing volunteer projects and collecting food for a food pantry. The 24 teenagers were fantastic. Hard-working, determined, and in good spirits. When it came time for dinner I'm sure they were expecting a nice, hearty meal with a dollup of relaxation on the side.
Unaffirmative.
Our food-collection activity had been a scavenger hunt, at the end of which we award point totals. There was a 1st place team, all the way down to our 5th place (also called "last place") team, even though when it comes to helping others, there is no last place. Their dinner mission? Buy dinner from the local grocery store - but there's a catch. I'm sure most people in ministry are familiar with the concept of a "Dollar Meal" (and not the kind from McDonald's). You give each person one dollar and that is what they have to spend on their meal. That is ALL they have to spend.
Typically, kids catch on pretty quickly that by combining their money they can feed more people with more food. I decided to switch the dollar meal up this time around. Instead of giving everyone $1, the winning food scavenger hunt team members each received $2, the middle three teams $1, and the "losing" team one quarter. Then I sent them to Pick-n-Save.
They'd catch on pretty quick, right? I was sure of it. I had no idea what the next hour and a half of our lives would look like. I had no idea about the can of worms I had just opened.
The quarters caught on right away. By combining their money they had $1.25. Woohoo! Ramen all around! (Obviously these kids have never been to college.) Little by little, the quarters started bumping into the dollars. "Want to join our group?" The dollars were more than happy to oblige. Heck, if they got all the dollars and quarters together they'd have $22! Imagine the possibilities!
Before anyone could check out, the entire group was to meet at the bananas. You know, to check in, to make sure everyone's getting something. By the time Banana Pow-Wow #1 rolled around, the kids had divided into two distinct groups - the have-lesses, and the have-mores. The quarters and dollars had all combined, and the two-dollars had stuck together. Interesting, no?
It was then that the "have-lesses" (a group of 22) first asked the "have-mores" (a smaller group of 6) if they would like to join forces. $28 can buy a lot of food, believe it or not. The "have-lesses" were excited about the possibilities. The menu? Spaghetti with two kinds of sauce (meat and four cheese), buttered egg noodles, and corn. A veritable feast! Who wouldn't want in?
The "have-mores," that's who. As an outside observer it was fascinating to watch as the five girls with their two dollars each began to feel that if they combined with the bigger group, they would be losing some of their... POWER. Sure, they used phrases like, "we just want a say in what we're having for dinner," or "the group is too big for everyone to get exactly what they want," but I caught the deeper meaning, even though they didn't. Even after everyone had agreed - and I mean everyone, in both groups, multiple times - that each person was okay with the new menu, the "have-mores" still resisted. Was it because they wanted to be the decision makers? Perhaps. Were they feeling that their $2 contributions gave them the right to more of a say in the decision-making process than those with less? Perhaps.
How do you make equal decisions in a group where some are "more equal" than others?
In the end, the "have-mores" did their own thing. I probably shouldn't say this, but out of all the groups to break the "don't accept donations" rule, the "have-mores" were the one to do it. They were 2 cents short of being able to get an extra bag of pretzels on sale, and decided to accept a lady's kind offer to help. Interesting. Again, very interesting.
The "have-mores" were left unsatisfied with their meal, while the "have-lesses" were overstuffed. Another interesting point was that the "have-mores," after seeing how much more food the "have-lesses" had, didn't ask if they could share. Even more interesting was that the "have-lesses" didn't offer.
During our "processing" conversation, it came out that both groups had felt rejected and dismissed by the other, the "have-lesses" feeling as though the "have-mores" were too good for them, and the "have-mores" feeling as though the "have-lesses" didn't want their help. Poor communication was quickly named the culprit.
At one point I asked the "have-mores" why they deserved to have more $$ than the others. They earned it, came the response. They worked hard and won the scavenger hunt. But what about the "have-lesses?" Didn't they work just as hard? The fact that the "have-mores" had more had nothing to do with their own skill or merit at all. It had everything to do with an arbitrary decision to give some people more, and some less.
The key word there is "give."
We enter dangerous territory when we begin to think that what we have puts us in a higher position than others who have less. Why do we have what we have in the first place? We work hard, yes. We work VERY hard, yes. We make the best decisions we can, yes. But it's all a gift. We don't earn it, not really. It's a gift. There are people in Tanzania right now who work just as hard and make decisions just as smart, just as good. But you know what? They have no food - none - right now because it hasn't rained. That's it - it just hasn't rained.
The kids with quarters, it just didn't rain for them. The kids with $2, it poured.
At the start of the activity, the "have-mores" set out with the intention of buying what they needed and then giving what they had left to their friends with less. They have such good hearts. We all do. We all feel the struggle of having more than others. How do we reconcile our abundance with our brothers' and sisters' famine? I assured my kids that it was okay for them to want to take care of their needs first, and give second. That is a reasonable way to feel. But is it what God wants? I'm not so sure.
God wants to be the one who provides. In the Bible we're told to give God our first-fruits and then let God meet our every need. We give God the best of our crop, the best of our lamb... God gives us everything and more.
We have no right to exert power over others just because we have more money. We have no right to exert power over others just because we think we are better. We are all equal. We are all equal. I could be mistaken, but I think it was Animal Farm's Napolean, the pig, who ammended the Farm's seventh commandment to read, "All animals are equal... but some animals are more equal than others." I have no solutions on how to mend the socio-economic divides we have so solidly established, but I know that justice will only come when that ammendment is abolished.
It was a hard lesson for us all to learn last weekend. In the end we were left sitting in the gray area between absolutes and feelings. Yes, we want to take care of ourselves. Yes, we want to keep our money and use it for ourselves. But... Yes, we want to take care of our friends and neighbors. Yes, we want to help out and we don't like seeing people suffer.
How do we reconcile?
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