I'll meet you at the cross: A post-election theology of encounter

I tell my students that in Christian theology suffering matters greatly. This is not because we want to glorify suffering or because we believe in a punitive or masochistic God. I give three essential reasons for making the suffering of peoples a privileged place from which to do theology.

First, it is a universal experience. Every human being is guaranteed some suffering in their life, some profound, a lot unjust and undeserved, some easily addressed, some absolutely irredeemable. But suffering is guaranteed as part of the human condition.

Second, it is authentic. Suffering is that place where we can't help but be our truest selves. Contrary to posing for selfies at parties or perfect early morning workouts — too often the fake stuff of social media — suffering finds us naked and vulnerable in the face of a broken body, a broken heart, a broken soul, a broken mind.

Finally, human suffering connects with the central claim of the Christian faith: that Jesus Christ, God made human, suffered a cruel and unjust death on the cross.

In the post-presidential election chatter, much has been said about whether we can approach and work with, let alone reconcile with or embrace people who find themselves radically opposed to one's political position. This is complicated by the often-justified understanding that someone else's political position actually represented direct violence to one's integrity and human dignity, or that of entire groups of people.

To be more precise, as a Joe Biden supporter who considers many of President Donald Trump's policies as violent toward members of the LGBTQ+ group, indigenous folks, immigrants, African Americans, and those with medical vulnerabilities, I have wondered how I would be able to come close to having a conversation with someone who continues to support Trump and his policies. This is a question I have posed to many audiences in the past: How am I to love the bearer of an unlovable idea?

Most recently, I asked that question while listening to interviews of Trump supporters still in disbelief about the election results. My answer was both immediate and instinctual: I'll meet you at the cross.

I imagined that these persons, like all humanity, have experienced profound suffering in their lives. I imagined myself encountering them at an Al-Anon group, or a support group for parents of children who have died by suicide, or at the funeral of a beloved relative or friend. If I truly believe that the cross of Christ is of universal significance (and I do), I also must believe that grief binds our humanity.