Lent 2013, Day 5: To the Least of My Brothers…

My sister and I last night watched An American Crime, the sickening real-life story of Gertrude Baniszewski, a disturbed Indianapolis housewife who in the summer and fall of 1966 orchestrated the torture and abuse and eventual death of sixteen-year-old Sylvia Likens. At the time, it was called “the single worst crime perpetrated against an individual in Indiana’s history.”

While Gertrude herself was responsible for much of the two months of hell experienced by this child she was being paid to care for, she did not act alone. Six of her own children participated. So did Sylvia’s sister, who also was under Gertrude’s “care.” So did children in the neighborhood. It wasn’t until Sylvia was dead that anyone called the authorities.

And while Gertrude’s actions repulsed me, those of the neighborhood children were even more troubling. Gertrude had no control over them, couldn’t beat or starve them. She may have pressured them to join in, but they could have left at any time. They could have talked with their parents or a teacher or a pastor about what was going on. But they didn’t. Instead, they went along, saying and doing nothing that could have saved Sylvia’s life.

As I watched the movie (at times through my fingers), I thought of the times I’ve bought into pack mentality. While I’ve never hurt anyone physically, I’ve been a willing participant in gossip, innuendo, and attempted character assassination. With age, I’ve managed to temper that tendency much of the time, but not always.

It occurred to me that when Jesus talks about whatever we do for the least of our brothers also being done for him, he wasn’t just talking about clothing, food, and shelter. He was also talking about treating others with respect and dignity verbally and emotionally. The next time I’m tempted not to do so, I hope I’ll remember Sylvia Likens.