Who’s To Blame?
In one of the first stories in the book of Genesis, God gave Adam and Eve the garden to enjoy and live in. There was freedom and innocence there. But, it all changed after Adam and Eve became intertwined with the serpent.
When Eve and Adam heard God walking in the garden, they hid, but God went looking for them. God called, “Where are you,” and Adam responded, not by saying, “Here I am!”, but by saying, “I heard you walking in the garden and I was afraid, because I was naked. So I hid myself.”
Instead of answering the question, the first human response to God’s simple question was, “I was scared so I ran away.”
The second and third questions from God were,“Who told you that you were naked? Did you eat from the tree of life?”
And Adam deflected the question again. He said, “Eve, the woman you gave to be my companion, gave it to me and I ate it.”
God then went to Eve, who also deflected, “I was tricked by the serpent, and I ate it.”
No one in this story ever answered God’s questions directly. No one ever said, “Hey God! We’re over here!” or “Hey God, we ate some of that fruit you told us not to eat.”
This spring, there’s been a bout of bad news in my city of Philadelphia. Our education system is being defunded by the state, and the cuts are nothing short of draconian. Twenty three schools are closing, and the remaining schools must cut their budgets by twenty five percent. In my daughter’s elementary school, there will be no art, no music, no secretary, no school counselor, and no lunch aids. There will be no money to buy text books or supplies. The only things that will be left are the teachers and the principal. I have no idea how a school can function with that little staff and resources.
At the same time, the state is embarking on a very impressive prison system project—four hundred million dollars in new construction—about three-quarters of what is needed to fully fund the schools.
The violence in the City of Brotherly Love comes in active and passive forms. And there are a long list of people I want to blame for the failures of our city. I’d like to start with the governor, state senate, the mayor, and city council, for starters.
But it goes deeper than that. I want to blame the mortgage companies and Wall Street for profiting on bad mortgages, and betting against poor people—those things that led to our great recession of 2008, and the current austerity measures.
I want to blame the student loan companies for saddling me and my family with so much debt that their payments rival my mortgage. And those payments keep me working, keep my head down and focused on my own needs and obligations.
I want to blame social media for keeping me informed, but under the allusion that because I’ve ranted about it, I’ve done something to make change with what I know.
There are so many people and institutions for which I carry anger and resentment. There is so much I’m angry about, so many things I want to change. But, the scripture reminds me again—it starts with me. It starts with me answering questions directly, not blaming someone else. It starts with me taking responsibility when things are bad. It starts with me responding as if I can and will change what happens around me by my honest, direct responses.
I don’t want to accept responsibility. I’d much rather watch mindless TV all day, or hide out in a library reading a good book. I want to escape. I don’t want to accept responsibility for anything or anyone. For goodness sake, I can barely keep my dirty socks off the floor, or food in the refrigerator, let alone deal with being a responsible member of society.
But this is where we are called—to bare our souls before God and each other, to be honest and real, and to accept responsibility for what is not perfect and right. And—to be clear—we’re not be asked to bear shame or self-loathing this. We just need to be honest—with God, with ourselves and with each other.
This is far more difficult than blaming. And we do not arrive at this journey towards honesty overnight. This comes with a lot of practice, a lot of failure, and heaping mounds of grace.
I’m journeying today to honestly answer the question God asks. “Where are you?” God asks. “I’m over here, God. And to be honest, I’ve been hiding in the bushes for a long time. Can you give me a hand?”