I would like to think that I have a vast vocabulary. Granted, it doesn't make itself known when I use the words "uber," "totes," and "cray cray," but I have been known to use a wide range of words. So, I must admit that I had to look up the word "solidarity" when Father Bryan spoke on this during his weekend homily.
Solidarity: a feeling of unity between people who share similar interests and goals. This was far from the meaning I thought it bore. But when I found its meaning I thought through Father Bryan's words. He said something to the effect of: we as humans find it easy to have solitary with those who live, act, speak, and vote like we do. But how hard is it to share this between those who are different.
I had the opportunity to be the beginning of a really bad joke this weekend. "A Catholic, a Muslim, and a Hindu walk into a bar..." The difference was this wasn't a joke. It was a reality. And as I sat there with these two completely opposite people I found myself sharing in a form of communion not in native language, not in skin tone, not in gender, not in religious beliefs, but in the fact that we were human.
What an experience! And as I listened to these two men talk of the obvious friendships they never get to encounter because of who they are, I later equated it back to this idea of solidarity. Father Bryan said, and which I agree with, that practicing this inclusiveness outside of one's own comfort isn't easy, but as humans it's necessary.
How important is it for us to give of ourselves without the damage of exclusivity. As a white, Christian, female living in this country, I deal with a slew of words that create boundaries with those around me: "privileged" "moral bigot" and "crazy feminist." On more than one occasion have these come up in often strange conversation.
But just because I have had these words directed towards me, I still was born in America and get to practice more freedoms than 99.9% of the rest of the population in the world. So listening to these men talk about the lack of solidarity they have encountered saddens me. Not that I believe it is my job to make it right for them, but I had the opportunity in that moment to change, if only for the evening, what the Hindu and the Muslim thought about the Catholic/Christians.
I hate judgement, pretty sure I have said it on here numerous times, but I do. We can and should practice solidarity not just with others who are like us in religion or politics, but with the ones who are like us in skin, bone, and blood.
Solidarity: a feeling of unity between people who share similar interests and goals. This was far from the meaning I thought it bore. But when I found its meaning I thought through Father Bryan's words. He said something to the effect of: we as humans find it easy to have solitary with those who live, act, speak, and vote like we do. But how hard is it to share this between those who are different.
I had the opportunity to be the beginning of a really bad joke this weekend. "A Catholic, a Muslim, and a Hindu walk into a bar..." The difference was this wasn't a joke. It was a reality. And as I sat there with these two completely opposite people I found myself sharing in a form of communion not in native language, not in skin tone, not in gender, not in religious beliefs, but in the fact that we were human.
What an experience! And as I listened to these two men talk of the obvious friendships they never get to encounter because of who they are, I later equated it back to this idea of solidarity. Father Bryan said, and which I agree with, that practicing this inclusiveness outside of one's own comfort isn't easy, but as humans it's necessary.
How important is it for us to give of ourselves without the damage of exclusivity. As a white, Christian, female living in this country, I deal with a slew of words that create boundaries with those around me: "privileged" "moral bigot" and "crazy feminist." On more than one occasion have these come up in often strange conversation.
But just because I have had these words directed towards me, I still was born in America and get to practice more freedoms than 99.9% of the rest of the population in the world. So listening to these men talk about the lack of solidarity they have encountered saddens me. Not that I believe it is my job to make it right for them, but I had the opportunity in that moment to change, if only for the evening, what the Hindu and the Muslim thought about the Catholic/Christians.
I hate judgement, pretty sure I have said it on here numerous times, but I do. We can and should practice solidarity not just with others who are like us in religion or politics, but with the ones who are like us in skin, bone, and blood.
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