Some years ago, I had the uncomfortable experience of listening to a prayer concerning racial justice led by a white, wealthy, suburban woman. It was an odd experience listening to such a woman speak of “doing the work” while residing in a wealthy and homogenous neighborhood. I should hasten to add that she also had a nanny in her employ. She was concerned about “white privilege”; however, there was an obvious disconnect between her rhetoric and her actual praxis. She was a tyrant to those around her and had no problem getting her way, even if that meant stepping on the backs of others. So much for “doing the work” I suppose.
I begin with this anecdotal story because, in many ways, this woman is representative of a type that I have consistently come across over the past decade. A type that is concerned about social justice but who is seemingly unaware as to just how privileged they are. From the wealthy graduate student decrying the patriarchy while her loving father bankrolls her education to the “struggling” artist being bankrolled by their “oppressive” parents. Indeed, it seems victimhood has become a form of social capital. And let me be clear, this isn’t about the merits or lack thereof of ideas such as critical race theory or whether or not the patriarchy is a problem. Many words and pages have been spilled over such topics; that is not my goal here, and I ask readers to suspend any notion that I am writing within the left/right paradigm that defines our political life and culture. What I intend to hone in on is a problem that transcends all such ideological divides, and that is a lack of humility.
In my last post, I wrote about the impossibility of the rich entering the kingdom of God and its connection to economic justice. According to New Testament scholar Amy Jill-Levine, one of the problems of the rich man is that he lacks humility. Luke identifies him an “archon” or “first one”. In other words, he is an A-lister who really hasn’t wanted for anything in a world of grave injustice and deep social stratification. Because of his social location, he is obtuse to the needs and situations of those around him simply because he has never had to exercise that muscle. Moreover, as modern studies have revealed, his wealth and status may very well be inhibiting his ability to develop compassion and empathy for those in need and those he has likely defrauded. Thus, the paradox is that he lacks humility because he has so much privilege. He lacks humility because his life circumstances have never demanded that he develop such an awareness. At the same time, even if he started out at the bottom, what the above study reveals is that the more wealth someone acquires, the more likely their compassion and empathy are going to decrease. Because wealth is often connected to status and honor, I would contend those things can also cause such decreases, too. Nonetheless, the rich man’s blindness or obtuseness to what his actual problem is is actually the result of his privilege. We might even think of it from the standpoint of Maslov’s Hierarchy Of Needs. The rich man has everything covered, from the basics of food and security to the respect of others, so he has the time for self-actualization, which is what prompts him to ask Jesus the question about eternal life. However, those of the peasant class do not have such a privilege, living a hand-to-mouth existence. Their hierarchy of needs remains at the bottom, so they have different concerns than their fellow rich man. See how that works? And this is where humility, among many other things, could go a long way for the rich man.
And this brings me back to where I started – the white, wealthy, suburban woman. Paradoxically, her socioeconomic status afforded her the privilege of comfortably decrying an injustice in the world. Of publicly decrying “white privilege.” Some would identify this as virtue signaling or a purely performative exercise. I am pretty sure she left feeling good and righteous about herself, too. But, really, I don’t think she changed much with that prayer.
Such should serve as a reminder to us to always make efforts to step outside of ourselves and consider others and their vantage point. It’s cliché and simplistic, but wouldn’t we prefer others do that for us? Something along the lines of treating others as we’d like to be treated. It is no easy task, but it is certainly the beginning elixir to the arrogance and pseudo-virtue that can take over us all. The reality, too, as 21st-century Americans, is that we have far more in common with the rich man than those crowds that flocked to Jesus. I often shudder at the thought of what life as a peasant in first-century Galilee would have been like, and I am not so sure how long I’d last. The strange paradox is that our own affluence can deceptively trick us into thinking we have it way worse than we really do when things don’t go according to the modern standards of convenience and efficiency. This isn’t to say that we do not have our legitimate challenges or stressors, especially in this economy (lord knows I have mine). However, losing sight of what we do have can lead to unhealthy and ungrateful places that can be unexpectedly destructive. It would seem that the peasant carpenter from Nazareth was onto something when he told his followers, “For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his soul?” In gaining the world and all kinds of privileges that come along with it, we can lose sight of those neighbors closest to us. Alas, the strange paradox of privilege.
A Foolish Way 