We stood in front of a series of fish tanks nearly two stories high. All kinds of sea creatures were in the tanks, many of which I had not seen before. Tanks like these were lined up for several blocks along the waterfront. This wasn’t some sort of aquarium. No, this was the night for a fresh seafood dinner in Hong Kong.
I was with my partner Kin and his family. As their guest, they were treating me to a cooked to order seafood feast. Hong Kong, originally a fishing village, has a long tradition of dining on fresh seafood. This was the contemporary adaptation of what generations of people had eaten. As a guest welcomed into a new culture, I knew I had to embrace the meal and everything about it. The problem was – and remains – that I just don’t like seafood. Picking out what I’m about to eat from a tank knowing it will be cooked for me…well, that’s too much of a personal relationship with my food. I asked that the others make selections and I tried everything brought to the table. It was a wonderful evening and the event left a great impression on me. I am grateful for the experience.
Here’s what’s important to me: it doesn’t matter whether I like seafood or not. Instead, it’s critical that I, as a middle-class overly-educated white man, be willing to stretch myself to experience someone else’s culture. Sometimes that’s simply being with my partner’s family for a meal that seems exotic to me. Other times it has meant participating in ceremonies I didn’t understand on Native American reservations or in Hindu temples. At those times, my understanding of what’s happening isn’t important nor whether or not I’m comfortable. What is important is that I be present, follow the instructions I’m given, and respect the culture of others. I may not be comfortable, but I need to embrace what is important to others and share in it as best I can if I’m really going to be a friend to others.
A common image of inclusivity and diversity is to set a place at the table for others. It’s a warm and inviting image. When guests come to my home for dinner, I sit at one end of the table and my partner sits at the other end. Places in the middle of the table are prepared for guests so that we both can talk with them and enjoy the meal. After the food is brought to the table, before we eat, I always ask: is there something not on the table that you’d like to have? Perhaps someone will want ketchup, hot sauce, or some other seasoning. We do what we can to be sure that the place at our table is as comfortable as possible. It’s a great image: a place at the table.
But here’s the thing: when I set a place at the table and welcome a guest, it’s still my table. The expectation is that the guest will essentially conform to my way of sharing a meal. It may not be a meal that they’d otherwise want, have had before, or will want to eat ever again. I’m still in control of the meal. It’s my table.
True bonds with others occur when I’m able to stretch myself and be with others at their table. To be truly present to others, to join them in their space, means that I set aside my expectations of the way a meal should be. Instead, accepting hospitality is to join in the custom and culture of the other as best as I can. That may mean sitting on the floor, eating with chopsticks or my hands, or sharing food I really don’t like. To really connect with others, I find that it’s important to allow myself to be uncomfortable in new and different situations and to be present with others in their space, their culture, their ways of being in the world while understanding that there’s no reason for them to be like me or do things my way.
As we consider the struggles we face today in becoming multicultural communities and countries, some of the biggest challenges occur when those of the dominant culture insist that things be done their way. To some degree, they may offer others a place at the table. But it’s still the table still belongs to those in control. Rather than insisting that others speak and behave the way they do, eat and enjoy the same food, and fit into the way they think is the ‘right way’, those in the dominant culture need to open themselves up to experience how the various minorities speak and behave, eat and enjoy their food, and try to learn how the ‘way’ of the minority makes sense to them. In doing so, the chance of conflict and strife is greatly reduced among the various groups, with the minorities avoiding being systematically disenfranchised. In this way, there’s a table for everyone.
As a follower of Jesus, time and again I am reminded by the sacred stories in the gospel narratives that Jesus shared meals with others. The stories handed down to us convey that Jesus usually didn’t eat at his own table. Instead, he was a guest. He dined at the home of Zacchaeus, the hated tax collector; Levi, the leper; and Martha, Mary, and Lazarus, his friends in Bethany. The religious leaders complained that Jesus ate with public sinners and those of ill repute. Jesus regularly joined the meals prepared by others and ate at their tables. Yes, Jesus did prepare a place at his table for others and demonstrated radical hospitality. After all, the sacred story tells us that he fed five thousand people. Everyone was welcomed.
It’s my conviction that when we learn to first make a place at our tables for others and then also learn to appreciate the hospitality others offer us and eat as respectful guests at the tables set by others, then we create bonds of inclusivity that transcend difference. It’s then we share in what it means to be one human family.
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