A Place at the Table

Ever since the evils of Charlottesville I wanted to write a blog regarding social justice. Hate has always been a part of human nature since the dawn of time, but recently I’ve noticed just how screwed up this world is. Sometimes it feels like we are swimming in an ocean of discrimination and hate. I want to write a blog post addressing social justice issues, but I don’t think I can eloquently articulate my feelings without using a salty variety of vocabulary native to Los Angeles. I don’t wish a pessimist, but dragons don’t exist solely in the fairytales. Let’s face it; it is a reality that if a person is born into this world then they are born into a world surrounded by evil. If the amount of injustices of this world were measured in written word, then the Library of Alexandria would have to be filled ten times over in order to capture all the injustice of the world.

Now I would much rather live in a world of fairytales where the only injustice I have to face is the length of time it is taking me to find Nessie. Yet that thinking is naïve, as much as I hate to admit it, injustices are a part of a world. But what I hate to admit even more so is that humans are also responsible for the majority of injustices we see in our world today. The injustices can vary from anything from war to ostracization. The moment we start to say that there is no injustice too small, then we are creating room for an even greater evil. Apparently we’ve forgotten that empathy and compassion are greater than any injustices we may face. If we wish to address the injustices of the world, then we must address the injustices of our hearts. I know to some it might sound cliché or cheesy, but addressing social justice starts with dialogue (or maybe it’s just the people of the intentional listening group I’ve been going to rubbing off on me.) More often then not the physical pain of the world is manifested by the emotional and mental pain one experiences.

That is why I love the beauty of inclusion so much; it validates the beauty of one’s spirit. Being intentional about how we receive and accept others is the first step in order to heal the brokenness; it is the first step in understanding what it means to be human. Maybe the reason the world is broken is because we fail to recognize the humanness in our neighbors. Although as a perfectly flawed human, I am also guilty of this. I don't know how to fix the world; I am not called to fix the world. Maybe the beauty of this world is that it’s not meant to be fixed. But I am called to make the world better. In order to make a better world, then we must be willing to provide a space at the table where people can sit without limits placed on them. As someone who has personally not been invited to the table in the past, I know the amount of overwhelming love than can be felt from being apart of the table.

It’s been interesting to see how often I would be included as part of the table here in Louisville. It’s been a little over a month, but it’s starting to feel a little like home from the amount of inclusive love I’ve experienced. I thought I would have a hard time reconciling with living in Kentucky because of some preconceived notions. But the thing is, I’ve I’m going to make room at the table, then I have to look past those preconceived notions. Inclusion means including everyone despite our biases. It goes without say, but I have to say it anyway because people are people and often forget, but inclusion does not stop at a certain group, otherwise it wouldn't be inclusion. I strive for an inclusive nature, but struggled when I would attempt to build bridges that others refused to walk on.

Instead of walking on the bridge and meeting me half way, they would yell or shame me. A defensiveness would kick in and I would be tempted to fight back, but what good does that do? Believe me, I learned that defensiveness only adds fuel to the fire. The ironic thing is that these “battles,” that we believe we must win aren’t even worth the fight. Just because someone’s universe might be shaken, does not mean the universe is not shaken. If anything is to be learned from these “battles,” is actually the ability to ask questions. Why do they feel this way? How can I show someone love when that person isn’t showing me love? (A lot of times those who spit at you are aiming for the mirror they see in front of you.)

As much as I love my seminary, I feel like we do not accept our neighbors, specifically the institution across the street, as well as we should. Inviting people does not mean you agree with them, or that you even like them, but it means that you recognize their humanity in order to build bridges with them. The seminary that I go to prides itself on acceptance and diversity, yet I can sense a gap between us and the other institution. While I am not a fan of the other institution, it frustrates me that our seminary does not engage in dialogue with that institution which is different from us. I think it frustrates me because our seminary comes off as a little hypocritical because of it. I’m actual fine if no bridges get built between the two of us, but I’m not fine if there is no effort being made. I mentioned this to our student body president and she is in the middle of addressing this.

I don't want to give away too much detail because I don’t think it’s necessary. In my original drafts, I wrote the specific adjectives that described the two groups, but I cut them because of the weight of the two words mainly being used. I felt like readers would be so caught up with the wording, that they would miss the important part (because you know, that’s how life works.) Inclusion should not be limited to a certain group. Having a place at the table should not be limited to a certain group. Experiencing humanity should not be limited to a certain group. Recognizing the humanness in each other should be the air that we breathe.