You're a Keen One, Mr. Finch

Oh my gosh. Can you believe Chaslie? It’s ridiculous how much she complains about stuff. Like every little thing.

Oh I know. Did you hear what she said to me? She was complaining about how Sara always stacks the boxes the wrong way. I was like: who cares how the boxes are stacked? You’re not our boss anyway. So quit telling Sara what to do.

Geez, I wish she wouldn’t act like that.

I know. It’s just so frustrating. We shouldn’t have to deal with her complaining all the time.

No, we shouldn’t.

~

No, you shouldn’t. Alas, how many times in our school or in our workplace are we dealing with the most frustrating people? Your classmate keeps begging notes off of you because he hasn’t been taking any. Your boss keeps snapping at you for forgetting to put cheese on that burger for the third time. He already lost it last week when the soda machine broke—and it wasn’t even anyone’s fault. Your co-worker glares at you because you accidently bumped into her on the way to take the next customer. Yes, some people are just like that. And we, unfortunately, have to deal with it.

“Atticus!!!”

When you call your own father by his first name—and a rather unusual name at that—it’s not hard to believe that you didn’t really have a mother growing up. But if you’ve got to only have one parent, Atticus may as well be it.

Equality is one of the most important themes in To Kill a Mockingbird. Atticus Finch, father, lawyer, neighbor, and upstanding citizen of a little Alabama town, decides to defend an African man in court against false allegations of rape. As a result, he is criticized, verbally attacked, and very nearly physically hurt—just for trying to defend the truth.

“You know the truth, and the truth is this: some Negroes lie, some Negroes are immoral, some Negro men are not to be trusted around women—black or white. But this is a truth that applies to the human race and to no particular race of men. There is not a person in this courtroom has never told a lie, who has never done an immoral thing, and there is no man living who has never looked upon a woman with desire.”

Atticus sees the African Tom Robinson as a human being equal to any other human being in that room. And he bravely defends Tom’s innocence against what are clearly ridiculous accusations of abuse. As a result, countless readers have come to love this character for his integrity.

So Atticus Finch is a great guy. What does he have to do with my boss? Or a classmate? I treat everyone equally.

But do we?

Those people we have to deal with at school, in the workplace, in our family—are they equal to us?

Sure, we are cordial, courteous, friendly even. It’s not like we tell them what we think of them. So what do we think of them?

Just like us, Atticus is also forced to deal with difficult people who not only disagree with him but are even willing to openly hurt him. Bob Ewell falsely accuses Tom in the first place, and then threatens Atticus for wanting to defend him. Walter Cunningham, a family friend, takes part in a neighborhood mob that tries to bully Atticus into backing down on his stance. Cranky old Mrs. DuBose shouts insults at people who pass her porch and openly criticizes Atticus for defending Tom.

Atticus doesn’t agree with these people. He’ll stand by Tom no matter what. But nor will he play their game and think of them the way they think of him.

Yes, they do malicious things to him and to Tom. They hold onto ideas that are incorrect and downright wrong. But they’re still people. And Atticus understands that.

“He [Walter Cunningham] might have hurt me a little . . .  but son, you’ll understand folks a little better when you’re older.  A mob’s always made up of people, no matter what.  Mr. Cunningham was part of a mob last night, but he was still a man.  Every mob in every little Southern town is always made up of people you know . . . a gang of wild animals can be stopped, simply because they’re still human.”

It’s OK to get frustrated with people who annoy us. It’s understandable if someone rubs us the wrong way. Are their actions wrong? Their beliefs? Perhaps.  But Bob Ewell is still a father. Walter Cunningham is still a man. And Mrs. DuBose, despite her rude comments and incorrect beliefs, still manages to do some good when she achieves victory over her long-time morphine addiction.

Maybe we don’t have to deal with mobs. Maybe there’s no one spitting tobacco in our face. But difficulties happen everywhere. And underneath every flaw, every snap, every failure, there’s a person. We all deserve to be treated like one.