Proper 7 2015

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…