This morning’s sermon was written by Greg Ward, who coincidentally served our sibling congregation, UU Metro Atlanta North, in Roswell, for eight years. I do not usually share the words of other white, male ministers if I can help it, but when I do, it’s for the purposes of addressing inequality, and what we can do about it. Without further ado, the words of Rev. Greg Ward:
For those who are unfamiliar with a hunger banquet, it’s not your regular dinner. People are invited to gather and eat, like a regular dinner. But not everyone is served the same things. In a hunger banquet, a hierarchy is established such that some get more than others. Just like our society – and our world. Some will get a lot. Some will get enough. And some will get not enough.
It was my third year in ministry and I invited 40 members of my congregation. I arranged for all invited to be assigned to one of three tables based on some arbitrary characteristic. I chose eye color. The objective was to make it something people had very little say in – sort of like how we have no say in what family or what class we are born into.
The folks with brown eyes got to sit at the first table – the privileged table. This table was placed on the risers where the choir sat – a little bit above the congregation. They had a floral arrangement, matching china, polished silver and ruffled napkins. Two bottles of wine, sparkling cider, crystal pitchers of ice-water, candles and silk table-cloths sprinkled with little daisies. The table was arranged banquet style, like you’d see at a wedding, where guests sat all on one side looking out over the room.
The green or hazel-eyed folks were placed at the second table below. It was somewhat less elegant. Real dishes – although un-matching – went with paper napkins, a pitcher of water and juice.
The third table, for the folks with blue eyes, was placed around the corner by the entrance to the kitchen next to the trash cans. They had paper plates, plastic forks, Dixie cups and water. Their location was such that the privileged table couldn’t see them. But the middle table could.
To provide an indication that some system was in place, I had asked two of our newest – and relatively unknown members – to stand as ‘guards.’ I asked them to dress, ‘officially.’ One surprised me by coming in combat fatigues, army boots, sunglasses, with a beret and a nightstick. When the poor table saw him at parade rest, watching over the room, they began referring to him as, ‘the man.’ The guards were given almost no instruction, except to maintain order and civility, which at a friendly invitational dinner might seem unnecessary. But, after all, we were dealing with hungry Unitarian-Universalists encountering injustice.
When the dinner was served, of course, the privileged table received the greater care. They started with tossed salad, fruit salad, bread and butter, carrots and onions, rice and finally, chicken divan.
The second table was served after a few minutes and received the green salad, bread, plain carrots, rice and chicken.
The third table, received only rice. And there was an extensive delay before that came. By the time it did arrive, some had grown tired of waiting and sent one among them – who was intimately familiar with the children’s religious education program, on a reconnaissance mission to liberate half a box of Triscuits and a bag of Smarties from the snack cupboard.
I confess, I really didn’t know what would happen. I had fully expected that the artificial groups I set up would quickly dissolve, food would be shared between tables almost as quickly as we set it out and the evening would be spent talking about the gross inequity in the world.
But I was intrigued to see that this was not what happened. There was a hesitation.
The people at the privileged table were split – with two kinds of responses. The first – and I will clarify that this was said in jest – referred to how appreciative they were that the superior nature of their character had finally been recognized and that it was about time they were given the treatment that was their due. This half of the table, in a lighthearted way, justified their entitlement and had a little fun being unrepentant.
The other half of that same table did not seem so proud. They did express discomfort upon realizing that, while they were going gourmet, others were going without. Concern was expressed for spouses or friends at other tables. Yet there was also a strong sense of confusion about what the guards would do if they challenged the system. They were reticent to do anything to create a scene. And that reticence held the status quo in place. All in all, it reflected some truth about the privileged group in our society: justifying some entitlement while issuing vague discomfort about the state of affairs and slow to take any action to change their position of privilege.
The second table was, in my mind, the most interesting. One member of the table reported, matter-of-factly, that he’d seen these things before, knew what we were attempting and considered it, sort of, ‘old news.’ Consequently, the conversation turned toward the ‘matter of fact’ details of one another’s lives and the interesting things that happened that day. All in all, a fairly true picture of the middle class: generally intelligent people who work hard, are aware of the dynamics and problems of the world around them, but are more preoccupied with their own lives and those of their friends to effect much lasting change on the systemic conditions of poverty.
The third table also seemed very adept at capturing the essence of the group they represented. They were pissed. They were hungry. And they minced no words about it being unfair. And they even went through a few derogatory expletives describing their opinion of social experiments. One of the members of the table lightheartedly threatened the nearby guard with a plastic utensil. But they weren’t angry at the guards – who were just doing what they were told. They also weren’t really upset with the other tables – they were just playing their part in the game. But they were, without question, pretty unhappy with me.
They came to see me as the instigator. The maker and the keeper of ‘the system. ’ For all intents and purposes, I played the role of God. A figure whom the privileged throughout history cited as the source of their good fortune – the privilege they enjoyed was the divine right of kings. God has always been an ambivalent figure for the middle class – sometimes treated with confusion or indifference. And God is a figure the poor have often felt promised them more. And the poor have been dining on empty promises for a long time.
There are so many who are still hungry, and lonely, and cold. None among us can deny the tragic inequality in our world. Unfortunately, pinpointing the ultimate cause behind it isn’t as clear in real life as it seemed to be in our simulation. It’s not the fault of one group, one philosophy or even one well-intentioned but misguided minister. If it were, I know that my congregation – being loving and justice minded people – would have done me in a long time ago. It just isn’t that easy.
During the discussion afterward, someone pointed out that the experience that we simulated that evening was too simple. They pointed out that the roots of all oppression – including racism, sexism, ableism, homophobia, transphobia, and xenophobia, as well as classism – are complex. It is hard for any congregation to know how to do the good they so desperately want to do.
Trying to navigate our way toward justice isn’t always a direct path. We want to help, but we don’t want to upset others in the process. We want to empower others, but we don’t want to take power from those who have earned it. We want others to have a place at the table, but we hope it is not at the expense of our own. This can lead to paralysis and eventually, despair.
But beyond despair, beyond the complex, tangled details of cause and effect, beyond the many reasons why it is impractical and improbable to work for change, there is something else: a realization that when any in the world suffer, we all suffer. When marginalized people are denied their due, then we all feel the hunger of living on empty promises. And none of us – not the rich nor the poor – ever get to know what it would be like to live in one world – where bridges are built and peace is possible for all people.
If the situation in my church had remained at a stalemate of confusion and inactivity we might have all gone home that night in great despair. But I knew my community… and I knew – deep down – they would get indigestion dining on fear and injustice. I knew, if given time to reflect, they would never underestimate God. That is why I invited them: to show how it is possible to overcome paralysis. And I was not disappointed.
As I was talking to some of the folks at the privileged table, I began hearing the echoes of rebellion coming from across the room. Voices from the underprivileged table started singing. Slowly at first. Softly… “We Shall Overcome…” Some started to join hands or link arms. Then, the people at the privileged table saw their opportunity. They rose above their hesitation, elbowed their way past the guards, and carried food across the room. When the guards feebly attempted to stop them, the middle class quickly encircled the guards and stopped them. The lower class, seeing the privileged people coming toward them with food, unlinked arms, opened their circle and welcomed them into the group. Everyone began to sing louder. From that point, it was only a matter of a few minutes before we were all – guards and cooks and people of every class – sitting at the same table discussing what happened and in complete agreement: it was all the minister’s fault.
The way out of paralysis came when we heard the voices calling for action – and heard the confusion within our own voice – and realized it was the same voice. The difference was made when we recognized that all that separated us – authentic or artificial – did not, could not, would not divide us in our common humanity. The difference was made in recognizing that the good within us is as powerful as the complexity and the confusion of the system around us.
We will best work with others in their efforts to escape the yoke of bondage and oppression when we see ourselves inextricably linked together. When we understand that their story is our story. Their opportunity is our success. That’s when we SHALL overcome.
May it be so, and may we be the ones to make it so.
Delivered at Northwest Unitarian Universalist Congregation
May 26, 2019
© Rev. Jonathan Rogers