In the Face of Danger

I am going to make a bold proposition in this posting. For many of the current members of the Iredell community, this will come as little shock, and perhaps even muster a bit of laughter. My proposition is this: Sweeping the floor is a political action. Now, as one who has been subsumed in the universe of Duke Divinity School, I am well aware that the word “political” brings with it a lot of baggage. Further still, for anyone who has ever spent time in intentional community, daily chores are absolutely critical to the formation of healthy lives so as not to result in mutually assured devastation. Ah, but what happens when one does not sweep the floor? Or, perhaps even more profoundly, what happens when one does sweep the floor?

It seems somewhat trivial, but recently I overheard a discussion about certain students who were roommates. One of these students shared that they had made a breakthrough when, after realizing that each person in their apartment was buying their own jar of mayonnaise, they decided to start buying one jar of mayonnaise for all to share. This just sounds like good community. However, I propose that the more profound situation would have been when each person in the apartment decided to pool their money for groceries and still opted to buy three jars of mayonnaise because one person needed low fat, while another person needed Helmen's, and the third could only stand the taste of Miracle Whip. This is a more profound situation, in my opinion, not because it is the most economical or practical, but because the action of debating and discerning how the community can best engage life is in itself a political endeavor.

We have similar conditions at the Iredell House, not just with food. I recall the house retreat when we spent (what seemed to me to be) nearly an hour discussing the division of chores. The fact is, some members of the house simply did not want to do the grocery shopping. Nearly everyone had a preference for what chore they wanted, but no one really wanted to do the shopping. How did we get out of this precarious predicament? Well, I don’t remember exactly, but I know it wasn’t by divine intervention or through some great revelation that convicted us all of what we were to do. No, it just happened. We talked. We went around the table again and again. We discussed. We compromised. We found consensus.

So, I haven’t swept the floor this week. It needs it, but I haven’t done it. For whatever reason, the floor has remained defiled by our disgusting selves. This, too, is a political action. It compromises the shared mind. It attacks the community at its base. “I challenge the community’s decision that the floor ought to be swept.” New conversations have to be had. “Why hasn’t Barry swept the floor,” they might say to one another? One may think that a mundane task like sweeping the floor is nothing to get too up in arms about, but I submit that whoever believes that never really had to live with anyone with much conviction in life. Alas, I will sweep the floor. It is my duty as a red-blooded Iredellian. After all, there is no “I” in Iredell.