Thursday of the Twelfth Week in Ordinary Time
In the summer of 2000, just a few months after our daughter, Anna, was born, I and Anna’s biological father attended the Central District Conference (of the General Conference Mennonite Church) annual convention at Goshen College, Indiana. At that time, I was a tenure-line faculty member at Bluffton College (a General Conference college) teaching in the communication department. I remember so vividly being at that conference. I would be sitting in the chapel where one of the plenary speakers was holding forth, and Anna would get fussy. And I would happily get up and walk around with her and jiggle her. And I was proud. I was proud that I occupied a prized position among the Mennonites—a wife and mother. I could also sing the alto part of Mennonite hymns—more pride.
Now the Amish (cousins to the Mennonites) have a word for such pride—hochmut—high mindedness. That’s when you think more of yourself than you should. It’s when you put yourself above others or enjoy your place in the world more than you should.
I am thinking a lot about this these days, especially after the wonderfully challenging presentations by Dr. Vince Miller and Sister Nicole Trahan at the One God, One People event at Immaculate Conception last week. What do I need to own of the ridiculously undeserved privilege I have enjoyed my whole life? It is not as though my life has been painless. It has not. But is has been privileged.
So, in our Gospel reading today Jesus is putting it to us. What are the ways in which we trade on Jesus or trade on our privilege or take full advantage of the ways in which we may appear to be doing virtuous things (like taking care of a baby at a church conference)? Of course, we need to take care of our children when they are fussy. But what are we taking credit for that perhaps we should not and what, at the same time, are we leaving undone?
Something that I have learned from teaching with historians (and being married to one) is that no one ever sees a revolution coming. It’s always a surprise. No one could have imagined that yet another instance of police brutality would so transform how the majority of Americans think that we would find ourselves asking questions we white people just weren’t asking before.
How have I (white gal) contributed to the suffering of my black brothers and sisters? What have I failed to see in my own actions that have hurt my black brothers and sisters? For what do I need to repent and make reparations?
On the whole, people in Jesus’s time did not see the revolution that was coming. There may have been this or that exception (Mary, for sure, Joseph too, John the Baptist—but they were a distinct minority and privy to inside information!). For the vast majority of Jews and gentiles—they did not see it coming. And even once Jesus was here, many missed the point.
My point is, we are living in an extraordinary moment. One Jesus gets. And he is telling us that he can see the difference between those who enjoy claiming him for their own advancement and those who truly love him—which means loving especially those that society disowns. That we are called to love the least of these could not be made more clearly than Jesus makes it in Matthew 25: 35-46.
Make me better than I know how to be, Oh God. And Jesus, keep holding my white feet to the fire. Amen.
- Sue Trollinger