Somebody. Anybody. Everybody.

I am a fraternity man. Or I was. It’s been a while so I’m not sure what still applies and what doesn’t. And in 2019, I’m not convinced I’d be one today if I were starting college all over again. I don’t really intend for this post to be an indictment of fraternities, particularly mine. That’s something I’ll need to cover in more length than a blog post. And one day I will.

I’ll simply say that when I was a student at Furman University in the mid-1990s, Greek culture was rooted in the University’s culture. So were a lot of other things that curriculum from today’s sociology classes and sensitivity trainings would frown upon. I’m grateful for twenty-plus years of perspective, and for new academic and theological approaches that constantly push me to think about how my privilege – both the way it’s been afforded to me, and the way I’ve chosen to use it – has lasting effects, not only for my life, but for those around me.

But anyway, I’m rambling. I got to thinking about fraternity rush the other day. And in good nature, or at least intended-good nature, every fraternity at Furman would make up teasing knick-names for their rivals. I belonged to SAE (Sigma Alpha Epsilon). And like all the rest, we wanted to believe that we were the most elite group on campus: we had the coolest, smartest, most-handsome, most-athletic, most-fratty fratters of ‘em all. And to wear the letters was a big deal. Not just anybody could wear these. That’s why we were pained each time our friends from Sigma Nu, or Sigma Chi, or Kappa Alpha would tease us: “SAE: Somebody, Anybody, Everybody.” The implication being that our standards of admission were minimal at best.

It’s funny what seminary will do for you. If I could pick one slogan to sum up authentic Communion, it would be: “Somebody. Anybody. Everybody.” That’s because at Christ’s Table, we are all somebody. We’re God’s beloved. And that gives us inherent worth and value. And anybody, no matter if you think you are somebody or not, is welcome. Every moment. Every day. And the table is made for Everybody. As a matter of fact, it’s quality is not diluted by the number of people who join it, but rather, it’s enhanced, fulfilled even.

Of course, there’s another side to all that fraternity elitism. After rush, and after pledging (there’s another blogpost, too!), I made some very good friends. Friends who didn’t care that I was weird, and unique, and not nearly as cool as my clever t-shirt might have suggested. And when we were anxious about grades, or tests, or some crisis of youth, or what the future held, there was space, sacred space, to be in friendships that were both vulnerable and strong. And as we’ve grown older, our conversations, though not nearly as frequent, have turned to the world we hope to create for our children. One that’s better, more open, more inviting than the one we inhabit now. And there’s a whole lot more thinking about who we should include to make that happen, and less about how we can distinguish ourselves on the dancefloor, or the ballfield, or in the job we hope to receive.

So maybe, in 2019, I’d skip out on rush. But SAE, Somebody, Anybody, Everybody, well that’s a group I’d like to be a part of. If you do too, come join us at God’s table this coming Sunday, and every Sunday.