Believe It or Not, Most People Are Logical and Rational

I’ve often claimed that nearly everyone is logical and rational—once we understand the presuppositions from which they operate. 

We may look at someone’s comments or actions and immediately decide they’re weird, stupid or worse. But if we take time to try to understand where they’re coming from, we often discover that their unusual words or deeds actually make sense. 

Allow me to share a story—but first a little background. 

During the 1971-72 school year, I headed south of the border to teach English and Physical Education at Colegio del Pacifico—COLPAC, to use the common abbreviation of the school’s name. It was a primary and secondary school a few kilometers from Navojoa, Sonora, Mexico. I was 19 years old when I arrived.

My 10 months in Mexico were a delightful adventure for me. And, vicariously, they were also an adventure for my family, who looked forward to my letters and the rare phone conversations made possible by HAM radio.

At Christmas, one of my sisters, her husband, their two children and my mother came down for a visit. When it came time for me to leave, another sister and her husband drove down to provide my transportation home. And in between those two family forays into Mexico, my father flew down to meet me in Mexico City, where we spent a few days during Semana Santa (Holy Week) before taking a train north to Guadalajara, then on up to Navojoa.

Now the story. 

On our only Sabbath in Mexico City, my dad and I attended a Seventh-day Adventist church, where a high-ranking church leader and his wife invited us home for lunch. The church leader visited with us while his wife rustled about the kitchen. 

When we were invited to come to the table, there was an array of highly attractive food, but only two place settings. On the side where our hosts sat, there were no plates, no glasses, no cutlery. Nothing. Just bare table. On our side, however, were artistically arranged settings for two. 

Surprised, my father asked, “Aren’t you going to eat with us?”

Our hosts explained that this particular Sabbath, the day before Easter Sunday, had been designated as a day of fasting and prayer in the Adventist churches in Mexico City. (And maybe even in Adventist churches throughout Mexico—I don’t remember the specifics.)

What I do remember is that we apologized profusely about our hostess having had gone to so much work for us when she wasn’t able to even taste her own culinary delights. We said we would have been happy to join them in their day of fasting. 

It seemed strange to us that they would invite us to their home to eat on a day that they were not going to be eating. But as they continued to talk, we began to appreciate their motivations and rationale.

Hospitality was exceedingly high on their list of non-negotiable spiritual values. Whenever visitors came to their church, they wanted to ensure that those visitors were made to feel right at home. They wanted them to have tangible evidence that this was a congregation that loved everyone, even—or maybe, especially—foreigners who were passing through. They believed that nothing shows love and care and concern like a good meal. 

The fact that they personally were fasting was no reason to skimp on their hospitality. Guests still needed to have the red carpet rolled out for them. Nor would they think of asking strangers to fast with them.

Whatever the collective spiritual burden that had led to this region-wide day of fasting, it was THEIR concern and not that of any visitor. So they wouldn’t ask a stranger to go hungry just because they were choosing to go hungry. From their perspective, a day of fasting in no way diminished their commitment to full-blown hospitality and the Golden Rule. And that always included food for the stranger within their gates.

I’ll admit that when we first learned that our hosts would be fasting while we were chowing down on the scrumptious meal they were providing for us, it seemed weird. By the time they had explained their rationale and their modus operandi, however, it seemed truly amazing. Impressive. Admirable. And definitely humbling. Such commitment.

Our two new Mexican friends weren’t irrational or illogical or weird. They were committed. Committed to living in a way that would win friends, influence people and bring honor to God. 

And their example—coupled with our initial misunderstanding—left my dad and me wondering if we might have often similarly passed judgment on others. On people who may have had their lives and values a lot more together than we did.