One of the traditions that can serve as a teacher for learning how to organize diverse life is the “Slametan,” which is particularly popular among rural communities. While not exactly the same, it’s similar to a feast but conceptually distinct from charity.
Clifford Geertz depicted, and we ourselves may have often participated in, that the Slametan or feast follows a consistent pattern: a group of people gathers in a house (usually in the living room or guest area), sitting in a circle facing each other with offerings in the center. They include neighbors, relatives, colleagues, and family members, all of whom are men. Diverse individuals come together at a place to weave a “consensus,” or at least that’s what it appears to be from the outside.
No prominent differences are observed among them; farmers, laborers, employees, officials, organizational leaders, politicians, traders, entrepreneurs, devout individuals, less devout individuals, old, and young. They possess equal rights and recognition. If a religious leader, prayer leader, or kiai has unique blessings or, in some places, is given an envelope containing money, it’s because they are leading the ceremony and prayers, not due to any particular socio-cultural status.
“In every Slametan, each person is treated equally. The result is that no one feels different from the others, no one feels superior to the others, and no one desires to isolate themselves from the others,” Geertz expresses in “Santri, Abangan, and Priyayi.”
Furthermore, in a concise yet captivating manner, Andrew Betty (in “Variasi Agama di Jawa”) describes the Slametan as a “totality,” a communal ritual that maintains the acceptance of differences.
The enchantment of this “totality” is that, even as a communal event, it fails to define the community explicitly. In the Slametan, everyone agrees, but there is no assurance that everyone agrees on every part of it.
Hence, Slametan is better seen as a communal gathering composed of individuals who not only possess different views and orientations but, importantly, remain distinct within their differences.
In this context, I am not interested in discussing whether the Slametan represents the core or center of Javanese religion (Geertz) or not at all (Betty). What I wish to emphasize about the Slametan is its role as a gathering and the meanings that can be derived from it. As a communal event, Slametan is a language of argument, not a choir of harmony.
In a Slametan, consensus can be built, yet each individual remains distinct. Unity is maintained, but individual representation is possible and valued. Isn’t such a gathering more similar to communal life, societal life, and national life?
Just like the Slametan, communal life, societal life, and national life consist of individuals and groups who are different (in terms of occupation, social status, education, gender, ethnicity, race, religion, interests, orientations, thoughts, and more). They gather in a certain region (e.g., Indonesia) at a particular time to weave unity (consensus) and, let’s say, for shared great purposes. Their unity is not a harmonious choir, where individuals and groups blend in.
When we mention the Indonesian nation, does it mean Javanese, Buginese, Madurese, Sundanese, Minangkabau, Balinese, or other identities vanish and dissolve into it?
Similarly to the Slametan, in communal life, societal life, and national life, every individual and group should be recognized and valued. In this unity and gathering, the representation and rights of every individual and group should be acknowledged and respected, regardless of their political, economic, religious, or cultural representation and rights. Thus, within this unity, the public space or public policy should remain open and accessible to every individual and group within it.
If in the Slametan, the representation and rights of every individual are acknowledged, valued, and the public space is accessible to everyone, why do dominance, exploitation, marginalization, wealth-poverty disparity, and monopolization of public space still prevail in communal life, societal life, and national life in Indonesia? If in the Slametan, we can gather (gaze at each other, greet each other, and embrace warmly) with different spirits, why in community, nation, and state life do we fear, then deny, differences? Perhaps only our constructions and imaginations have gone astray. We must learn from the Slametan!
Translated from here.