Proper 7 2015
Friends, I have a problem… It seems
that whatever I do, or wherever I go; I am straight, white and male.
I know, some of you are thinking
it’s a little late in the game to suddenly realize this fact. But that’s to
say, it isn’t that I’m suddenly surprised by these things about myself—and it’s
not that being white, straight, or male are themselves the issue.
Instead, my problem (as I see it)
is that these three factors are things that insulate me from any number of
realities, and experiences that I’m sheltered from simply because of these
things. In fact, without really trying, my race; my gender; and my orientation
offer me advantage and privilege in almost any situation in the world. And, if
they don’t…well, I still get to go back home to the place and culture where
they are advantageous.
Here’s what I mean…
So, as a man; I’m less likely to
wonder whether or not someone doing the same job as I am, with all of the same
qualifications with equal time with the employer, is making more money than I
am… My body structure means that I never have to know what it’s like to wonder
if breast feeding my baby in a public place might be considered “indecency.”
And, regardless of how awkward adolescence might have been—I’m not held to the
same social expectations of fashion, and the illusion of some idealized body
type…
With regard to being straight,
well, this means that no one scrutinizes my relationship with my spouse.
Regardless of where we might travel in the U.S., my marriage is considered
‘legal.’ If I watch television, I’m not affected by the way that heterosexual
relationships are portrayed. Whether people are promiscuous, unfaithful, or
anything else besides; no one is going to project that stuff on me. No one will
wonder about my sincerity, or my reasons for being married because of something
that’s seen on TV. And, because of our family make-up, no one is really worried
about how stable our home life is; and my ability to parent is simply taken for
granted as a given…
As to being white, I’m finding more
and more that I inhabit a world that has a different set of anxieties. I’m
rarely in a position where I have to check my vocabulary, or even how deep my
voice is when I speak. As the parent of three boys, I’m not worried about how
people will treat them—or how people will perceive them as they become
teenagers. I never have to wonder whether or not I’ll get pulled over for no
apparent reason—and if I do get stopped by police; I’m not bothered by the
suspicion or question that it might have been an issue of race.
The point is that I’m not
necessarily stereotyped in any detrimental ways, and as I said before; if I’m
ever faced with opposition to my status as straight, white or male—I can always
return to a world where I can ignore such opposition. What’s more, I have the
ability to isolate myself and ignore the disparities in the world that my
privilege shields me from…and, let’s face it, we have a culture that will
continue to enable me in this.
Now, again I want to be very clear
that I’m claiming this as my
problem—and the reason for this is because these subjects are highly emotional
ones. These are not easy things to discuss, and it’s my experience that when
things like race, orientation and gender are brought up; we’re each of us going
through the checklist in our heads about whether or not what we’re hearing fits
with our own beliefs. This is when the tapes of what we’ve rehearsed to say to
people who have a different opinion than ours, begin to play in our heads… And
this is when we stop listening, and begin planning a snappy response to a
conversation that isn’t happening.
Facebook and social media do this
to us all the time—we feel like we can say whatever we want, but are free from
the accountability that comes with being face-to-face with another person…
Well…anyway, this is the reason
that I’m making this about me—the problem is deeply, and dangerously my own,
and I admit it, and I claim it; and I hope that by confessing it here that
something in my own heart will begin to change. Because, God knows I cannot do
this work on my own—I can’t stop isolating myself in my race, gender and
orientation, so long as it perpetuates inequity in the world…not with any sense
of integrity in my faith, at least.
Here’s where all of this is coming
from—even though this has been something I’ve been thinking about for some time,
and even discussing with close friends—where this particular sermon is coming
from is mostly in response to yet another mass shooting.
As many of you know, on Wednesday a
young man went into an African Methodist Episcopal Church in South Carolina,
and after sitting through a Bible study with some of the people. He then began
shooting people, and 9 people are dead because of it.
Once again, of course, whether it’s
news media, or social media our failure to have rational discourse about it is
striking.
What I think bothers me most about
this situation, however, is that I can come to church today, and not worry
about anyone planning any harm. And even if there were, such a person’s
motivation (once people began speculating about it), probably wouldn’t be a
subject of debate. And yet, while I’ve read articles from the BBC, which talk
about racial motivation—there are still a number of voices which tempt me to
question that. I know it sounds absurd, but I catch myself combing through
posts and articles with such a critical lens that I find myself in a fog about
all of it. Perhaps what’s really absurd, though, is that I feel that I have any right or authority to make any kind
of value judgment. The fact remains that a young white man with apparent
leanings to white supremacy, used a legally purchased gun to shoot and kill 9
people in their church, where they had welcomed him…
It seems that rather than learning
some lesson from this tragedy, however, I still find myself digging at the
reports to try and find some deeper meaning that would connect this to every
other senseless killing. Was this a matter of gun control? Maybe, and maybe
not—but I know it’s not a rallying opportunity for anti-gun groups, nor for the
NRA…both, in their way, would be vulgar attempts to exploit the murder of these
people.
Was this simply a matter of mental
illness turning into an act of terror? Perhaps…but that only makes mental
illness more of a stigma in our country, and still doesn’t explain why this
sort of thing seems so much more common in our country than in the rest of the
world? What this racially motivated? It sure seems that way to me—but rather
than taking that as a cue for some deep soul-searching, I instead have to fight
my urge to pick fights about racial inequality. It’s as if by somehow becoming
the loudest voice for racial equality, I somehow shield myself from the
implications that I may have some issues about race, myself…
If I’m honest, I know that this
matter of race, and any matters regarding gender, and matters of sexual
orientation could be equally things that I need to continue to work through. And
perhaps rather than seeing this tragedy in South Carolina as validation for any
of my pet convictions—maybe I would do well to see it as an opportunity for
some introspection. Maybe I need to see this situation as a mirror which more
clearly reflects my heart than anything else could—and the question will be
whether or not I can face what is reflected there…
In our Gospel reading today, we
have this story of Jesus calming a storm. Mark’s Gospel is a little intense
anyway, but this particular story is unnerving because Jesus literally commands
the elements to obey him… And, I think we’re helped in understanding the
immensity of this act by the reading from Job, and from the Psalm—the elements
are things that God controls. So, for Jesus to suddenly rearrange the
elements—to reshape reality, really—with a word of command is just as terrifying
as the Gospel Writer describes it. The point is that Jesus is powerful in a way
that only God is powerful…
But, y’know, here’s the thing:
Jesus rebukes this storm, and the water calms, and the boats all get to shore
safely. The thing is that this moment didn’t mark the end of all storms from
then on… Just last night we had storms; we have lots of storms. Not only that,
but there are storms that are destructive and even deadly. So, why didn’t Jesus
fix storms at that point?
We could even ask the same question
about healing. Why is it that we read that Jesus heals some people, but doesn’t
just spend all of his time healing everyone?
Well, it seems to me it’s the same
reason that Jesus hasn’t interceded to stop all mass shootings, or gun
violence, or even racism, or any other injustice in the world besides… I think
it’s because the rest of us have to learn from these things, and overcome them
by becoming better people. So, the miraculous change, and healing that we’re
looking for Jesus to do, is something that we have to do in our hearts and
lives…
In other words, if everyone were
healed of their infirmities, we would not learn how to be compassionate human
beings—we wouldn’t have to… If we didn’t have to deal with things like storms,
we wouldn’t learn about weather patterns, strong building materials, or even
offering relief to victims of weather related disaster.
And if we weren’t faced with
racism, gender inequality, discrimination about orientation, or even gun
violence; I suppose we would never have to learn the value of being God’s
Children, and being made in the Image of God (the Imago Dei). We would never be
challenged to understand the meanings of human relationship, and we may never
be forced to face our fear of one another, and our default response of
violence.
For myself, especially in light of
this tragedy in South Carolina; I hope that I can begin to examine my heart
with a bit more honesty. Hopefully, I can take to heart some of these lessons
that could be learned from such events, so that somehow I can more honestly
participate in this work of redemption that I talk about all the time, that
Jesus calls us to in the world… More importantly, I hope that I rise to the
challenge to not hide from this situation, and others like it. I pray that I
won’t use the privilege that comes with my gender, race and orientation to
insulate myself from the pain of the world—or even make excuses for it—but
instead would try my best to shoulder it, and ask Christ to help me with it
when it becomes too heavy. And it’s my hope that others would join me in doing
the same. As St.
Paul says, this is the Day of Salvation. But each of us is responsible to
respond…
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