Different Answers

 

I’m about to head into dangerous territory. For the few who read my blog on a regular basis, please know that this topic is one that I approach with trepidation. I’m not even sure that I can articulate it at all.

But.

It’s something that just keeps on bugging me. It’s an apparent attitude that I keep running across in various contexts, especially when people are talking about Christian “ministry.”

I’m not sure what to call it, but I’m going to start out with words like “classist” and “privileged.” I know those are loaded words…. but I’ve given up trying to find any better words for this sense I have— that such phrases come from an assumption that there is a crucial distinction between the provider of ‘ministry’ and those who are on the receiving end. This troubles me. A lot.

I keep thinking of words like “patronize” and “condescend.” These words didn’t used to have the negative implications that they do nowadays, but they have always implied a ‘descent from a higher station;’ a ‘gracious relinquishing of status.’ An etymology website gives me this for 'condescend': “voluntarily waive ceremony or dignity proper to one's superior position or rank and willingly assume equality with inferiors.”

I think maybe this attitude stands out to me because I’ve always considered myself to be in a lower position, socially and economically. I never finished college, and I was really pretty damn poor for the first part of my adult life. I think that gives me an advantage when it comes to noticing this kind of ingrained outlook.

I guess the thing that bothers me the most is the way people talk about ministry as if it was a kind of largesse: gifts given from abundance, by those who can casually afford such ample generosity, to those who are ‘less fortunate’ than they are.

But when I read the gospel, what I hear is Jesus telling us that we need to give what we can’t afford!

What I hear is that we are all in the same leaky boat together, and we’d better get busy with the bailing bucket!

What I hear is that we’d better not go around thinking that we’re better off than ‘those other folks.’ We’d better not think that the fact that we are better off somehow obligates us to help those who are not so well-off.

So, when I think of “ministry” the first thing I think about is the things I don’t want to give! The stuff I have so little of that I want to hoard it, and keep it for myself.

And then there is this:  “……If anyone wants to come after me, let him say ‘No’ to himself, take up his execution-stake, and keep following me. ³⁵ For whoever wants to save his own life will destroy it, but whoever destroys his life for my sake and for the sake of the Good News will save it.” (Mark 8: 34b-35; CJB)

I also have a sort of confession to make: My grandmother, who was raised Catholic but had a falling out with the Church, taught me that to accept any sort of charity was a huge no-no. It was only in my later years that I realized that her objection to charity arose out of her sense that the people giving the charity thought of the recipients as below them. Nanny’s reaction was to say to herself, “They’re not any better than me!” but she went a step too far, I think. She thought that to accept charity was to admit that the benefactor was indeed ‘better than her.’ That, to her, was the same as groveling in submission. I will admit that her teaching has influenced my fierce egalitarianism, but I don’t believe that to accept freely given money or goods from someone when I am in need implies that they are “better than me.” What I do see, quite clearly, is that the givers do sometimes (often?) think that they belong to a different class than that of the receivers. This gives rise to unfortunate labels like “the poor” or “the underprivileged” which, by their very nature (semantically), imply a separate class of people .

The other thing that troubles me is the odd habit of identifying ‘hunger’ and ‘poverty’ as if they were entities in themselves, as in the phrase, “We need to end world hunger and poverty.” That manner of speech tends to depersonalize the whole situation, and gives us a reason to stop thinking in individual terms about, you know, hungry people who might also happen to be our neighbors.

I’m not advocating that anyone stop volunteering at the local Food Bank, or making charitable donations, God forbid!

No, I think what I’m tackling here is a little bit more theological, and is more aimed at those of us engaged in more rigorous discernment of our own path along the Way of Christ.

There are two questions that Jesus asks his followers: “Who do people say that I am?” and “Who do you say that I am?” What struck me hard was the implication that Jesus thought that there would be two different answers. It was an eye-opener to me to realize that it was quite likely that Jesus was not looking for a specific answer, but emphasizing the importance of thinking for myself and, not only that, but speaking for myself.

I think that there’s another perspective that we sometimes ignore—

In the end, what other people think is pretty much beside the point!

 

 

Old Man Zen looks up from cutting his fingernails, and says,      

“Well, I never did care much about what you think.”