The day after Donald Trump was elected to be our 47th President, I went to work with a tightness in my chest. As a Director of a Refugee and Immigrant Center in Cleveland, Ohio, where we serve upward of 400 people a week, what would the mood be like? Would there be sobbing, cheering or something in-between? Could my staff, right-then-and-there write letters to our Congressional leaders, call our local news station or organize a trip to Washington D.C.? It was time to find out.
I walked into the front door and saw our volunteer Jim, one of our many retirees, smiling like he always does with a bowl of candy to pass out to guests. I passed our early childcare center and could see young children dressed as fire fighters and veterinarians cleaning up before circle time.
When I got down to the basement cafe I remembered it was time to celebrate our Afghan friend, Bakhtavar, who recently became a Citizen. Forty people huddled around to clap while she wove an American flag, pausing for pictures with her tutors who had diligently worked with her over the last several months.
To my surprise, nothing seemed out of the ordinary-just a day marked with small, discrete moments of hope and joy, like any other typical day at our Center.
The following day was our staff Thanksgiving. Our cafe manager, Hanan prepared a gorgeous turkey with layers of seasoned vegetables, rosemary sprigs and roasted garlic-a true work of art. Staff members, many of whom come from refugee and immigrant backgrounds themselves, all contributed to the meal- hummus, grape leaves and pistachio pudding (to name a few!). We needed two plates to sample the smorgasbord of traditional dishes.
Here we were, feasting together in a basement post election- across linguistic, religious, socio-economic, cultural and yes, even political lines. As I scanned the room, I knew there were a range of emotions about our new President elect, but the overwhelming sense of peace and belonging felt palpable. It was at this moment that I knew sharing a meal was exactly what we were supposed to be doing- a small but mighty act of mutual blessing.
While I acknowledge varying political views (among our staff, volunteers and even within the refugee and immigrant communities we serve), Donald Trump’s consistent dehumanization of immigrants on national platforms, the threat of mass deportations for millions of people, and a vow to halt refugee resettlement on day one of taking office, will inevitably impact the work we do. I mourn what this could mean for resettlement agencies and nonprofits across the country and for the most vulnerable among us-many of whom are fleeing from war and persecution. We will have a lot to navigate in the days ahead.
But as author and priest, Tish Harrison Warren shared in her latest article for Christianity Today, in the face of big world problems and divisions it’s tempting to want big answers and big solutions. But following the example of Jesus, we are actually called to model what Jesus did by enacting small, discrete, faithful, solutions right in front of us. And eating together is one of them.
Sharing a meal is a declaration of our shared humanity. Unlike the echo chambers of social media, there is space to give and receive, talk and listen, express fears and empathize. Sharing a meal is an admission that we are all in need of nourishment for our bodies and souls-we are finite and dependent on something outside of ourselves. Sharing a meal is a celebration of community and a provocation to the political tribalism where we all too often fall prey.
Eating together in the wake of an election can feel like a minuscule response to what feels like an existential crisis, but as Jesus modeled, it has the power to change hearts and ultimately, the world. Jesus ate with tax collectors, prostitutes, friends and foes. He welcomed children, the down-and-out and no matter what important thing was on his agenda for the day, he knew the vital importance of pausing with his disciples. Eating in community was central to Christ’s ministry and to the new Kingdom of God where all are welcome.
This week I contemplated what I would do if Donald Trump came to the Center. Would I have my five talking points ready? Would I lift my fists, ready to defend the people I have given my life to serve? No. I honestly think I would invite him to pull up a seat and eat with us. I would pass him a plate of falafels, Syrian fattoush salad or maybe my favorite Afghan dish, Kabuli Pulao. This is the beauty we experience everyday and I’d want him to experience it too.
Would he share the meal with us? That would be up to him. But the humble invitation to eat would be his for the taking and my prayer would be that He could taste and see, through dining together in a basement at a refugee and immigrant center, a Kingdom vision that can never be taken away.
In the face of big world problems, let’s feast together. Like Jesus showed us, it can change the world-one heart at a time.
