You can learn a lot when talking with your friends about beer.

A number of years back now, my wife and I were having dinner with a couple from our faith community.  The subject of beer came up, and our friends suddenly went on and on about the evils of alcohol, beer, wine, etc.  And then they said something we didn’t see coming.

“The only reason people drink alcohol is to get drunk.”

Now, you have to understand.  They said this to my wife and me, freshly moved from the Sonoma Valley of California, otherwise known as the Wine Country.  A whole industry thrives there on people filling their mouths with fermented grape, and then spitting it back out.

We tried to explain this little tid bit of wisdom.

Which was received by blank stares and slacked jaws.

It suddenly occurred to me that, in the words of Gary Larson, we were of the “same planet, (but) different worlds”.

We were from California.  They were from Central Kentucky.  And in their “world”, most people they knew did drink to get drunk.  They had seen individual lives and entire family systems and whole counties ravaged by alcoholism.  So that when a childhood preacher came along and claimed that the Scriptures banned alcohol, that made perfect sense.

Which was a frustrating revelation to me, because I was about to launch into “theological argument mode.” And everybody loves theological argument mode.  

Especially when I launch into it.  

I was going to point out that Jesus’ first miracle was not only turning water into wine, but doing it so well that the wedding coordinator called it “the best stuff”.  I was going to share that beer is not only permitted in the biblical text, it is encouraged.  (It is the Hebrew word shakar.) That it is not only encouraged, it is commanded. The people are commanded to—get this—use their tithe money to pick up a six pack and celebrate before God.

Okay, I added that “six pack” part.

I was even ready to build a bridge and point out that we were both right, that the Scriptures do speak against the abuse of alcohol.

But then I had the further insight that listening might be the better place to land.  That understanding what formed their worldview and interpretation of Scripture would be time better spent than exacting my theological revenge with Hebrew this and Greek that.

And I think that this cultural moment calls for this in spades.  In fact, this is the one way I want to grow into my spirit in this next season of life.  I want to be able to understand those I disagree with so completely that I can make their argument for them.

This occurred to me a few weeks ago when our surrounding county “voted” to become a second amendment sanctuary.  I don’t understand this at all.  You mean you want to be a sanctuary for assault rifles that were created for the express purpose of killing lots of people?  You say they are for hunting?  How bad of a hunter are you?  Oh, it’s to protect yourself against the military?  Our military?  The one you claim to want to “support” and “honor”?  The military that has a few more tricks up its sleeve than a sixty-year-old AR-15?

But I have friends who grew up in similar counties that also support this measure, friends that I am the least concerned about having such weapons. They are people of strong moral character.

Clearly, I don’t understand something.

It is easy to think those we disagree with are bigots or racists, ignorant or elitist.  And if our arguments for them make them sound this way, we haven’t listened closely enough.

What is called for now, after we have done our own personal work, after we have determined to meet people with grace and then truth, is to be able to understand those we disagree with so well that we can truly see their humanity, their fear, their struggles, and their wisdom.

Because I/you/we don’t have the corner on wisdom.  

And if those you disagree with seem less than human, perhaps it is because you have made them to be so.

I invite us to sit down with them, look them in the eye, and listen to their humanity again.