Compromise: (n) an agreement reached by each side making concessions.
I’m speaking of those conversations that occur after a fine meal, while some sip on wine and others lick their cheesecake fork.
These are the moments when people feel the need to wax philosophical while simultaneously appearing to be extraordinarily open-minded.
So one person shares his or her opinion and another adds detail, being very careful not to contradict, but instead, enhance.
By the end of the exchange, a summary is formed in which everyone’s sentiments are included in some capacity–almost like a discussion scrapbook.
The host or hostess often conclude by saying things like:
“Well, I’m sure all the political parties have something good to share since they all love America.”
“Even though we should be sensitive to each other’s cultures and respect difference, there is no race left out or creed dispelled.”
Or one of my favorites:
“It would seem that all paths lead to God and each one of us selects a profile literally tailored to our soul.”
We love compromise.
Matter of fact, in the American system, compromise is considered more sacred than authenticity. For years and years we’ve rejected obvious truth to make sure we did not offend anyone in the room.
Let me tell you something about the path to God:
It demands truth on our inward parts, and in no way, shape or form are we to distinguish, isolate or even separate off into groups–because God is no respecter of persons.