Privilege.
A nation's greatness is measured by how it treats its weakest members.
~ Mahatma Ghandi
election, 3.
Eight years ago, Kellie and I and our oldest daughter Abigail attended a July 4th picnic in the neighborhood we had just moved into. We landed at a table with a middle-aged couple from down the street, and in the course of introductions and chitchat, the word “privilege” was mentioned… probably by my daughter, a passionate social advocate. Oh, if you could see the hair stand up on this guy’s neck!
“Privilege?” he spat, “No one gave me anything in this world. I made my own way to wealth by my own hard work!” Honestly, the concept of privilege (particularly white privilege) was still new to me, and to my embarrassment, I left Abbie to bravely weather the storm of this man’s wrath alone. Not everyone responds quite this aggressively, but I do find that the idea of privilege generally does offend the privileged.
In the run-up to the presidential election, I’m exploring several ways we tend to (mostly unconsciously) separate ourselves from others by markers of power and privilege, making ourselves into the heroes of our own narratives and painting “others” as the villains. This practice has a long and storied tradition as illustrated by the maxim that history is written by the conquerors. This is as true on the personal dimension as the collective. We write our own histories as the context for our personal storylines, histories that reflect our subconscious classism.
It's telling that Jesus continually refused to get sucked into the “othering” trap, even when artfully baited. The most famous was when the Pharisees taunted him with an impossible question: Should we pay taxes to our oppressors, the Romans? In reply, Jesus deftly reframed the issue—Your welfare does not rise or fall on who sits in the seat of political power! No, your welfare depends upon whether you enter (and by implication allow others to enter) into the divine dance.
Here Jesus drew sharp attention to those who wielded spiritual power, particularly the power of gatekeeping. “Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You shut the door of the kingdom of heaven in people’s faces. You yourselves do not enter, nor will you let those enter who are trying to” (Mt 23:13). To those who commodified spirituality and leveraged that power to protect their own privilege, while simultaneously suppressing access for others, Jesus was relentlessly scathing.
If there is one grand sweeping theme of Jesus’ ministry, I think it lies right here: opening the door of access to sacred community. Inclusion with God and with the people of God. Parable after parable describes God as the one who welcomes the poor and powerless to the table of fellowship while being snubbed by the rich and powerful. Is this the message of today’s church? Are we in sync with Jesus in his central message?
Who were the less privileged of Jesus’ day? Generally it was women, the sick, and foreigners who were kept at the margins of society then. Who are the less privileged of our day? Who has less access to education, healthcare, equal pay, social standing, etc?
In our previous guest post, we looked at the modern struggle of ongoing racism; today I’m thinking about classism, the unseen colored forehead dots that we assign to castes of wealth, extraversion, social media audiences, youth, trendiness, charisma, beauty, and a host of other social markers that determine who gets invited to the table of opportunity and who does not. Who gets honored and who remains invisible.
America talks a big game when it comes to equality and opportunity, but this only holds up in the context of comparison. Sure, there are plenty of other countries that offer less equality and opportunity, but instead of patting ourselves so heartily on the back, let’s place our attention where Jesus did. Particularly when it comes to who we elect into national office, let’s look for leaders who will elevate and provide for the “least of these” (Mt 25:34-40) rather than those reinforcing existing privilege.
When our hearts are secure rather than defensive, we can
name our privilege… without shame,
recognize the institutional systems that perpetuate privilege… with repentance,
and then work to dismantle our collective “other-ing” prejudices and practices… with conviction.
growing your soul
Can you name your own privilege? I’ll go first: I’m white. I’m a guy. I’m straight. I’m educated. I’m financially comfortable.
serving our world
Rather than apologize or feel ashamed for what privilege we’ve been given, let’s use the opportunities that come with power to draw attention to the many inequities that remain in our country and our world and see what we can do to change them.
Start by voting!
takeaway
Empower the Powerless.