“So God created humankind in his image.”

–Genesis 1:27

A number of years ago, I was part of an Interfaith Advisory Council for our local school district. During one meeting, we learned of character traits that the schools would strive to model and instill in all students. After hearing the plan, another clergyperson on the council said “We speak of this list as being desired traits for our children. Yet as I look at them, it seems to me that we must also develop these traits in their parents and other adults, too.”   I agreed then and still.

This summer, my posts will take one of those traits each week and muse on them through the eyes of faith. While they were developed by the Charlotte-Mecklenburg School District in 1997, I think they remain timeless and universal. Today, we focus on appreciating differences.   

During my college years, I was a member of a fraternity. One of the unique pieces about Greek life at Davidson, at least in those years, was that instead of bids being issued there was a process known as Self-Selection. Each fraternity (or eating house) would sponsor some events that were open to anyone on campus. Yet during a stretch of time in the winter they would host gatherings only for freshmen and begin to encourage the ones they felt matched their values. Then, on a specific day, first-year students desiring to join a house would “self-select,” or write down on a form the groups they would like to be part of, in rank order. They could do so whether or not a particular house had asked them to join. Once all of that information was tabulated, the Dean of Students would notify each fraternity or eating house who had selected them. 

In theory, if my fraternity had room for 20 newcomers, the first 20 who self-selected us were admitted. In practice, though, if someone signed-up who had not been encouraged to do so and the brothers did not want him, they would pressure the student to withdraw his name. On the appointed night of my junior year, after getting our list from the Dean, conversation at my fraternity house eventually turned to the topic of someone I’ll call Fred.

Fred was a freshman on the floor where I served as a hall counselor. He was a good guy; easy-going, quick to laugh, and fun to have around. Even though I saw Fred every day, I didn’t know until the meeting that evening that he had self-selected my fraternity. So when his name came up with the brothers in the discussion that reviewed each freshman one-by-one on the list, I wasn’t fully prepared to respond.   

One of the key criteria used for any potential new member was how often he had been at the house in the preceding months. Many brothers wanted the freshmen not only to attend social events, but hang out at other times so we could get to know them more fully. As an example, in a discussion that night about another applicant one brother had said “We talk all the time about how much we want pledges to be present here. Well, this guy has been here more than the furniture!”

I couldn’t say that about Fred. “He’s a great guy,” I began and named several other positive attributes, reminding them that I was his hall counselor. “Did you know he was going to self-select?” someone asked me. “No,” I replied, “but Fred can be shy at times.” I knew what was going on. Fred was a skinny kid from south Georgia. Some would likely have called him a nerd and in new social settings, his introverted tendencies caused him to laugh at strange times and make odd comments. I identified with Fred, because all of those traits had been true of me as a freshman, too.

In that meeting, I knew what my brothers were really saying—he didn’t fit their image of our group. “Look,” I went on, “I know Fred doesn’t always make a great first impression, but I can tell you he would be a wonderful addition. We should definitely vote him in.” With that word, the conversation ended. The group voted. The answer was “no.”

I look back on that moment, now more than 40 years later, and can tell you that there have been few other times in my life when I was angrier than I was in that instant. I’m sure part of it came from being hurt that my opinion had not mattered unlike that of other brothers who had successfully advocated for a different self-selectee. That was a piece of it, but what really steamed me was the idea that this group of 19 and 20 year-old guys thought they could make definitive value judgments on another human being. 

After that vote I did something I’m not proud of. I stood up and without another word walked out. The room was silent until the quiet was broken by my slamming of the door. As I made my way toward the dorm, I was spitting nails and for some reason walked directly to Fred’s room. I wasn’t going to shared with him the particulars of the conversation. Instead, standing inside his doorway, shaking with anger, I just said “I’m sorry.” Fred had no idea what I meant, but I repeated the words and then before saying something I would regret, left to walk around campus until I cooled down. 

When I got back to my room later on I found a note slipped under the door by a fraternity brother telling me that after I left that the group had changed their mind, voting Fred in and everyone else on the self-selection list. “You should have been there, John.” he wrote. “It was wonderful!” While happy with that outcome, of course, things changed within me that night. I continued to eat my meals there until graduating and came to a few social events, too, but from that moment on I felt no emotional tie to my fraternity. 

The first character trait from that North Carolina school district teaches that we are to appreciate differences in others. That isn’t only in regards to fraternity selection processes, of course. Nor is it a norm that is always evident in life. Instead, on the playground and in the classroom, in staff meetings and legislative bodies there is often the tendency to support those who we perceive to be like us and disparage others. To make fun of those who don’t match our ideal of behavior or point of view. The call of faith, though, is to respect, even appreciate differences. 

I could easily be convinced that such a response is the first task of being human. After all, before God charged human beings with any job, the first chapter of Genesis records: “So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them, male and female he created them.“ 

The author of that first book in Scripture doesn’t go on to explain all that our shared identity means. Yet at the very least I think it calls us to recognize that every human being contains something of the divine. That the person we believe to be least like us is still a brother or sister, still a child of God.

A good starting point for recognizing and appreciating that we are not all the same, except in what matters most.

Author of all life, thank you for shaping me in your image. Help me to act upon that shared trait more fully in such a way that I will respect and honor the differences between me and everyone else. Amen.