An institutional grace period is a strange enough concept. Built into strict, bureaucratic, anonymous structures are these allowances for human frailty and need. The date of return is clear when we check out books. There is no room for misunderstanding. Yet, in many library systems, there is an allowance for returning books late--a period of grace shown by the library toward the library user.
For those of us who grew up in practicing Christian homes, this use of the term "grace" is deeply telling of our relations with these large institutions. Grace, as every sunday schooler knows, is the love and salvation the unworthy sinner receives from God. The special thing about grace, especially in traditional Protestant theologies, is that it flows freely to humankind even though humankind has done nothing and-- here's the kicker--cannot possibly do anything to earn or be worthy of this grace. In most of these theological systems, the sinner only has to accept such grace.
And so what sort of grace is shown to us by these bureaucratic institutions? Aren't these unmerited gifts, these periods when we are not penalized for failing to live up to the contracts we have entered in to? In a free market society such as ours, what else should we call the favors done to us? It's little wonder that we would rely on religious language when the iron-clad bureaucratic structures we live under are bent, if even for a limited "period," to make room for our human shortcomings. We experience them as moments of real humanity, of an older, now mythical communal bonding that only exists today in fits and starts in the nuclear family. But whereas the grace shown to us by our immediate family members is seen as organic (I mean, as simply part and parcel of the parent-child relationship), the grace shown to us by modern, anonymous institutions comes to us as nothing less than a secular miracle.
It's unsettling because in the modern world we experience others (both individuals and institutions) through the logic of the balance sheet. What are our debits and credits vis a vis others? Whom do we owe and who owes us? If we choose to be lax in balancing our relational books, then we will surely fall into the red. We'll be taken for chumps. In fact, this is how we most often consciously consider institutional grace periods: periods in which an institution will allow us to take advantage of it.
So, what about this grace period my family has been shown by those in our orbit? I must admit, it's been as overwhelmingly beautiful and profoundly moving as it has been unsettling. We've expected and received a great deal of care from our immediate families. But what leaves us speechless and tearful is the love and practical support we've received from individuals and groups whom we've known only for a short time (or sometimes not at all). These gifts are best described in terms of grace because we have surely done nothing to earn them: we have not shown that we are willing or capable of returning the favors; we have not shown that we can put the favors to good use; in some cases we have not even demonstrated our real need of the gifts (even though the need is there, I assure you).
Isn't this what makes grace a truly sacred concept? It is a relational interaction that defies every logic we use to govern our lives in the modern world. We live in terms of contracts and exchange, even (or especially) in our social relationships. How many times will you invite me to dinner before you expect me to invite you? The social contract is not just an abstract political concept. We use it to govern our lives. But the sort of grace we've received is ignorant of this reasoning.
It's unsettling because there is no calculating logic to it. We cannot possibly balance these books.
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