Tables and Walls

The challenge with all of the conflicts in the world today is that the opposing sides always demand our allegiance. Fear, anger, and pain have loud megaphones and rarely have any trouble when it comes to communicating their needs and marketing their influence. They all battle for our attention, and they all demand support. With terror and horrific stories coming out of Israel and Gaza these last weeks, I feel the deafening roar of both sides of the conflict in my ears. I find myself feeling angry and sad all at once with no clear direction on what I should believe.

I often wish it was easy for me to pick sides. I appreciate clarity, but speaking personally, I don't always have it. This makes it difficult for me to unequivocally give all of my support to one side of any conflict.

I'm not an expert on Middle East conflict, and as an analytical thinker, I'm hesitant to speak out because I'm aware of my ignorance. While I know what I don't know, I am conscious of the fact that I have some influence and that my voice can make a difference. So, I'm cautious about the positions I support. I'm also in a place where I can't intellectually or morally justify violence. I'm not interested in any response to violence that includes, "Well, they had it coming." Sadly, I see those justifications offered up by many in my social media feeds. I believe "They had it coming" only builds weak foundations for a position.

You don't need to be an expert on all things to be able to find a position. I have values that act as a compass for me. Values don't chart a direct map toward a solution, but they can give you some direction.

Recently, I've come to learn about Chef José Andrés, who founded the World Central Kitchen organization. The theme of his work has always been to "Build longer tables, not higher walls." They seek to feed people in need in the midst of catastrophe. They are not interested in analyzing disasters; they are focused on feeding the mouths of hungry people immediately. His organization is not interested in performing philosophical acrobatics to justify whether or not they offer help. They simply offer it generously. If I were to summarize what they do in one word, I would use the word, mercy. Mercy is a life-giving word that acts as a North Star for me when I'm unsure of what to think. If two sides of a conflict demand my allegiance, I choose to be in solidarity with those who are hurt. This way of life builds longer tables and not higher walls. Over the years, working in hospitality has taught me that there are always limits to resources. We only have so much to give, and we can either direct our energy into extending grace and hospitality or continue investing in building up walls. We can't do both well.

That is my position. I side with those who have been hurt. I want to see healing instead of harm. This is the best I can offer in an imperfect world, but I can live with it. Hopefully, this conviction will mean more will actually live because of it.

Friend, thank you for reading. May you find the opportunity this week to extend mercy but also receive it as well.

Peace