Steve Chai's Apology

It’s my little cousin’s birthday tomorrow.  I call her my little cousin because she’s always been the baby of the family even though she will be turning 21.  Her name means “wisdom,” so I hope to give her a little of it here.

I know that turning 21 is exciting.  So many more doors seem to be open to you when you finally reach that age.  Unfortunately for both you and our society, with the exception of voting, all of the new things you can try and experience happen to be unwholesome things and voting ain’t all that great either.

People call 21 the “golden age” because it’s the age when you can do stupid things and get away with it.  ”Oh, you’re just acting your age,” some will say; others may tell you to “live a little.”  Allow me to give you a little unconventional advice: Find your joy in Christ.  Live wisely.  Be an alien in this world so that when you don’t drink, and don’t party, and don’t do the typical I’m-21-so-I-can-be-stupid things, people will ask you why, and you can tell them because you’re living for a greater reward.

I’m not trying to be a killjoy.  I love you, and ultimately I want you to know and experience joy that is greater than anything 21 will bring.  And if you decide that what is written here is not for you, then whatever you do, live up to your name: be wise, cuz.

The city of West Hollywood has decided to permanently install a plaque commemorating the historic, if not brief, issuing of marriage licenses to homosexual couples from June to November 2008.  What is particularly striking however, is the fact that this plaque bears the words of former South African president Nelson Mandela: “I am not truly free if I am taking away someone else’s freedom, just as surely as I am not free when my freedom is taken from me.  The oppressed and the oppressor alike are robbed of their humanity.”

While I understand that many people may feel that not allowing homosexual couples to “marry” may be inconvenient, I can not understand as to how this quote even remotely describes the situation of homosexuals seeking to have civil unions labeled as “marriage.”  Nelson Mandela was a political prisoner who was abused, rejected, exiled, and reviled for being black.  Mandela was imprisoned for even speaking about equality and the end of Apartheid.  Last time I checked, homosexuals are not rejected, exiled, or reviled for being homosexual.  And the last time I checked, homosexuals and gay-rights activists are as vocal as ever about their desire for equality.  Moreover, I would say that those who oppose gay marriage are the ones who are abused, rejected, lambasted, and reviled in our community.

Again, while I understand that the people of West Hollywood and some – let’s be honest, only some – people favor gay marriage, let’s not go overboard here; to compare the plight of homosexuals to Apartheid would be foolish if not outright offensive to those who actually suffered injustice at the hands of evildoers.

I took my grandmother out to eat tonight for her 87th birthday, only I’m a month behind.  ”Sorry, Grandma,” I said casually, “for not taking you out earlier.”  She kindly retorted, “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

Forever might be an exaggeration, but not by much.  I haven’t seen her in almost seven and a half months.  My paternal grandmother is one of the few blood relatives that I still have, and she’s aging more rapidly every year.  My sister and I used to joke that she would live to see the century mark, but these days I’m not so sure anymore.  Sure, her independence is remarkable.  She’s one of the few 87 year old women I see doing her own grocery shopping and taking the bus downtown.  One would not expect any less from this iron-willed pioneer who left everything (twice) to immigrate to this country.

Still, her fragility is apparent; she needed help changing out the battery in her wall clock because she couldn’t manage to pull the back panel off.  Moreover, her vulnerability is frightening given the fact that she has been the backbone of this family for so long.  All I could do is assure her that she has done a wonderful job raising resilient, if not stubborn children, and even more stubborn grandchildren.  Tonight, over a bowl of noodles, she reminded me to pray, to study God’s word, and to live a life in which Christ comes first, and family comes second.

Happy birthday, Grandma.  Although I haven’t been a great grandson, I promise that this coming year will be different.  You’ve done a great job carrying this family.  I think it’s my turn now.

I just finished my jury service for the year this afternoon.  After seeing our legal system in action for the past two days, I am more confused than ever.  I am, however, confident of this: I don’t consider the hard questions anymore.  I dodge issues that I used to regularly struggle with.

Allow me to posit two questions over which I have racked my brain ever since I entered that courtroom:

1. Do you have a problem – moral or otherwise – with the use of deadly force for self-defense?
   • Answer I gave in the courtroom:  No.  If I was attacked and I felt my life was in danger, I would actively protect myself with deadly force.  The law clearly outlines the parameters that define self-defense, and, barring any disproportional response, deadly force is within those parameters.
   • Why this question bothers me: Jim Elliot had weapons, and could have used them on the indigenous people of Ecuador.  Would I have acted like Jim Elliot?  What if I had a wife, or children, and their lives were threatened?  Would my response be the same?
2. Am I a racist?
   • Answer I gave myself in the courtroom: No.  I am able to differentiate logically between my own prejudices and the facts in a case.
   • Why this question bothers me: Though the facts of the case have nothing to do with black or white, the reality is that race has already played a huge role in the way this case has been handled.  Would there be as much media coverage and public outcry if the victim had been a poor black man?

Only when I was given the responsibility of determining the fate of another human being did I even contemplate these questions.  I am embarrassed, conflicted, and most importantly challenged by these issues.  Here’s two insights I never thought I would reap from 2 days in jury duty.  I will add them to the other insights I had in the previous post.

I hope I never have to kill someone else.  I’m pretty sure I’m a racist.

I hate jury duty as much as the next guy.  6 hours in a room of 100 strangers waiting for names to be called to see if we have to do the same thing again tomorrow.  And for 6 hours of time from a college graduate the county pays $15 a day plus mileage (only one way though).

As ridiculous as the system may appear, and as loathsome as the process may be, the fact that I live in a society in which people are allowed to (or coerced to, whatever) participate in the justice/legal system is amazing.  More than some lecture on civics and the American justice system, I wish to share some observations that I have gleaned from this morning’s monotony.

• No where else will you find 100 more diverse people all called together for civil service.  When  our government so often seems dominated by one particular mold, this room is speckled with young, old, white, black, hispanic, professionals, students, etc.  I’m sure courtrooms in Witchita don’t have such beautiful diversity.
• There was a man this morning who in  jest or spite, decided to lecture the court employees on how many other ways he could be spending his morning.   I could only wonder to myself whether that man truly appreciated the fact that this process and this building protects that man’s right to mouth off.
• A judge powerfully shared the value of civic duty this morning only to be met with blank stares and marked indifference.  He explained that the task before us as jurors was to determine the fate of not only the defendant, but the family of the defendant, the victim, and the victims family – only to  be met with blank stares and marked indifference.
• Although this is probably an unintended consequence of procedural due process, only when you have seen how angry and malevolent these jurors can be do you realize that you never, ever, want to be tried for a crime.

And so here I sit, waiting for my name to be called.  To be quite honest, I hope to at least sit in a jury panel.  It would be a shame to come all the way down here and not even get an opportunity to serve.  And for all of you naysayers embittered to the system, I will say this: just be glad it’s not conscription.

Ergo, civis americanus sum. And damn proud of it.