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On Dec. 4, at the University of Oregon’s Ford Alumni Center, I joined six dozen others for a breakfast whose theme was not what you might expect. The attendees, a cross-section of the community, were not there to discuss education, economics, politics or anything of the like.
They had come to discuss the concept of grace.
It was billed as “an alumni gathering” of folks who, at some point during the year, had attended a “GraceTables” breakfast of eight people to discuss the same subject. In November, for example, I gathered with seven others at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant, Mandy’s, to talk about grace: how we define it, how we’ve experienced it and what it might do to transform our community.
The gatherings were begun in 2017 by two Eugene men who are so not-in-it-for-themselves that they preferred their names not be used in this column. (The alumni event was hosted by Yvette Alex-Assensoh, UO vice president for equity and inclusion.)
The gatherings have no political agenda. No religious agenda. In fact, participants are gently warned to avoid those topics. What’s more, all discussion is deemed confidential, which makes it difficult for me to get into much detail about what ensued at either gathering, though I’ll try — with the full disclosure that I allowed one of the GraceTables coordinators to review this column to make sure I wasn’t crossing any lines.
The idea of grace fascinates me. Here, when some people believe policies, programs and political parties are our country’s last best hope, was an outlandish alternative to creating cultural cohesion: respect for, and consideration of, others.
In a time when our country remains in cold-war polarization, a room at a liberal arts university was filled with people open to discussing a concept that I, as a Christian, have long associated as an almost exclusive theme of churches.
The people at these breakfasts, I found, defined grace in wildly divergent ways. Some saw it as random acts of kindness. Or as the wonder of nature. Or as “sacred emotions.”
When, at the alumni center gathering, people were asked what they’d learned from their hour of discussing grace, one person said to the group at large: “That when you come from a concept of grace, it’s easy to like people.”
I’ve long thought of grace as “undeserved favor,” rooted in reformers such as Martin Luther — the idea that redemption isn’t found in our working our way to heaven but in God’s unconditional love for us.
When asked, at the Mandy’s breakfast, to share a time when I’d been shown grace, I referred to a time in high school when I was spared the consequence of a sophomoric (literally), selfish and shameful act.
“Bored at a Christmas concert in the auditorium, two of us offered a third friend a dare so outlandish we didn’t expect he’d actually do it — 20 bucks to cluck like a chicken in a full circle around the choir while it was singing ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem.’
“Before I knew it, the guy raced up the steps of the stage, clucking like a chicken around the choir, then raced out a side door. He got expelled for a week. But he never gave us up. He never ratted on us. And he had every right to. We were the ones who’d put him up to this and, if he’d told, we would likely have been expelled as well — and deservedly so. But he didn’t. That, to me, was a true act of grace. I didn’t deserve such favor, but I received such grace.”
The best example of grace I’ve ever witnessed on stage is in “Les Misérables,” based on Victor Hugo’s novel. Jean Valjean, who’s serving time for stealing a loaf of bread to feed his sister’s family, escapes from prison. When nobody in the village will provide Valjean shelter, the bishop Myriel welcomes him.
Alas, Valjean steals away in the night with the bishop’s silverware. But when the police apprehend him and return him to the bishop’s house, Myriel says to Valjean: “So here you are, Jean! I’m delighted to see you. Did you forget that I gave the candlesticks as well? They are also silver.” And he hands over the candlesticks to Jean, who is then released, free to go.
Grace, pure and simple. And the effect is so profound that it literally changes Valjean’s life. He becomes a selfless man with profound empathy for others.
Like a star at dusk, the bishop’s willingness to forgive a man who didn’t deserve it shines brighter to me as our times get darker.
We live in a decidedly ungraceful world. A world of mass shootings. Of a presidential regime bent on revenge and retribution. Of a president — given the opportunity to say anything about the horrific murder of Rob Reiner and his wife, Michele — choosing to ridicule the actor with skanky humor.
This is not a left vs. right issue, Democrats vs. Republicans. It’s a basic human issue: Do other people matter in this country? Does our country affirm the idea of grace or of greed?
As a Christian, I’m ashamed of how many in my faith — including myself at times — have turned our backs on offering grace to others, particularly people “not like us.”
I sense Christians — the very ones for whom grace has long been a cornerstone of their faith — might think grace a wonderful Sunday sermon topic but are loath to carry out the concept in their Monday-and-beyond lives.
The “anti-empathy” movement is gaining traction in evangelical circles. Politicians who profess Christ often seem more deeply rooted in greed than grace. And when a Christian nonprofit sponsored “feet-washing” commercials for the 2024 Super Bowl imbued with the idea of God’s grace, they were met not by indifference, but outright anger among many evangelicals.
What’s wrong with this picture?
It’s an example of “the soft woke evangellyfish church lacking spiritual vertebrae,” tweeted Mark Driscoll, pastor of Trinity Church in Scottsdale, Arizona.
“Jesus told sinners not to sin,” wrote conservative influencer Seb Gorka, President Donald Trump’s former deputy assistant and strategist. “He didn’t wash their feet to endorse their sinfulness.”
“This heresy needs to be stopped, opposed and rejected,” wrote Andy Thomas, senior pastor at Hopewell Baptist Church in Louisville, Kentucky.
For some within the church, grace has morphed from an aspiration to a weakness.
Thus was I curious about how others, at the two breakfasts, looked at grace.And thus was I challenged when asked to think of examples of it in our community.
The incident that came to mind happened long ago: September 2009. USC vs. Oregon football. It was a night game, one that Oregon wound up winning 33-30 in triple overtime.
Before the game, a Eugene man, Steve Temple, was pushing his wheelchair-bound father-in-law, Bob, up the steep southwest ramp to a flat perch for people with disabilities.
Bob Hansen, 70, was a diehard UO fan; he wasn’t about to let a little heart problem, oxygen tank and wheelchair prevent him from seeing his Ducks play the vaunted Trojans.
Enter son-in-law Steve. By the time he got his father-in-law halfway up the incline, his energy was spent.
“My legs were rubber,” he said.
And there simply were no options, no “emergency exits” where he could get the wheelchair to a level spot so he could rest. Steve bent over and leaned into the chair. Panting. Perspiring.
Suddenly, a man rushed up, took the wheelchair and started rolling Hansen up the ramp with giant, forceful strides.
The stranger was about 6-foot-3, mid-30s. Not incidentally, he was wearing football shoes, khaki pants and a crimson-and-gold USC windbreaker and hat.
Steve’s eyes all but bugged out. The guy was obviously a USC assistant football coach, heading up the ramp to the press box for the game. Within minutes, he’d steered Bob to the top and positioned the man’s chair on the flat concrete pad.
“I remember watching Superman as a kid,” said Steve. “That’s what it was like. He came, saved the day, then, whoosh, was gone.”
The stranger nodded goodbye and raced off to the press-box elevator, waving off Bob and Steve’s thanks as if it was no big deal.
But it was a big deal.
“It helped me to see the big picture to all this,” Steve said. “I mean, here’s a USC guy just before this huge football game stopping to help a couple of struggling guys wearing enemy colors — green and yellow.”
“Those of you who cook or bake know that it only takes a little yeast to leaven a whole loaf,” wrote one of the founders of the GraceTable project. “The question we want to explore is whether or not a little yeast of kindness, generosity and grace can leaven a community’s culture and grow and spread throughout the community.”
My answer, of course, is an unequivocal yes. Maybe the healing of our country, our communities, won’t start with a grabbing and hoarding of power.
Maybe it will begin with a million acts of acts of grace, offered by people who remember what it’s like to be on the receiving end of such. And quietly fear a world without it.
