David Golemboski

The political philosopher John Rawls suggests that, theoretically speaking, societies should be arranged by individuals operating under a “veil of ignorance” with respect to their own position within those societies. That is to say, they should act independent of their own status, and be prepared to (hypothetically) occupy the “lowest,” the least fortunate, the most disadvantaged place in a society. The assumption is that measures would then be taken to ensure that no person could find him or herself in a situation of significant suffering. Perhaps a less formal articulation of this thought is that sentence displayed on the wall at St. John Center: “The strength of a society is measured by how it treats its weakest members.”

The weakness of some of our society’s members was made clear in a recent encounter, in which I was seated at the front desk at St. John and a man asked me for a match. I proudly produced and handed over a single match from the box in the drawer. When he took the mental step that I did not, and asked for a striker with which to light his match, I found myself at a loss. Neither were there strikers available in the drawer, nor did I have any quick creative alternatives. The man walked away disappointed by my uselessness and by his morning’s flameless fate.

Now, I’m confident he found a friend with a striker, or borrowed a lighter, or found another way to fulfill his need, and so I was not as overcome by sadness or pity as I was by an understanding of our relative social positions: this man is a weaker member of society than I, in that he was unable independently to find even a match and a way to light it, while I, the stronger member, of course have ready access to many sources of heat and flame. It seems that fire, this very fundamental human invention, would have by now found its way into the hands of all people. Just as significant as his actual problem was the underlying indication that his options and opportunities – even with respect to simple needs – were far more limited than mine.

Structuring societies is a bit beyond my grasp, but the gift of the men of St. John is the reminder of where our systems and supports fall short – and who the affected people are. Personal encounters with those weaker members orient us to the reality of our difference, but also to our sameness: were I on the other side of the desk I would have been no more able than the other man to light a match without a striker. 

The homeless guests at St. John Center hold us accountable to the fact that we’re all walking the same journey. Though it’s not often apparent, our lives our inextricably tied, and this very realization is the beginning of a just world. Let us, for even a moment, look at our world with a veil of ignorance, stepping outside our usual, stronger position. Let us ask serious questions about our society on behalf of those without voice. Let us dream of a better way to treat the most vulnerable among us. Let us stand with the men of St. John and find some way to light our match. 

David is a senior at the University of Louisville. He is a philosophy major, with minors in Spanish and math.