Sermons

Sun, Jan 19, 2020

Privilege and responsibility

Series:Sermons

At a Brisbane City Council library, this week…

an event, “Drag Queen Story Time”––

in which, as the name suggests, drag queens read stories to children––

was interrupted by protestors from the University of Queensland Liberal-National Club…

who hurled homophobic abuse at the drag queens.

After a video was posted online, the Club was bombarded with criticism––

including from Liberal-National members of Queensland parliament…

distancing themselves from the protestors; 

and proclaiming that the Club does not represent their “views and values”…

indeed, that it had been disendorsed by the Liberal-National party last year.

The next day, the president of the Club and the leader of the protest––

Wilson Gavin––

was found, having taken his life.

His family later released a statement.

In it, they expressed their care and support for the LGBTIQ community of Queensland…

and acknowledged the hurt that their son had caused:

“We know he regularly got the ‘how’ wrong and occasionally got the ‘what’ wrong. This made us angry with him too”.

But they wanted to correct the false characterisations that were beginning to surface about their son:

“We loved Wil for his compassion and sense of justice––

just some of the many things he got right…

We admired Wil’s drive to contribute, so often in ways not many knew about––like serving at a soup kitchen every Saturday or the year he spent teaching kids in Mongolia. He would regularly give the last note in his wallet to a homeless person on the street”.

And…

“We respected the unwavering strength of his convictions and desire to make the world better”.

 

Despite the increasingly hyper-partisan nature of the political discourse in this country…

and the combative way in which so many engage in it…

I doubt that there are many––

of whatever persuasion––

who enter political life primarily for personal gain.

Rather, they enter with the best of intentions––

because they want ‘to make the world better’.

But…

sadly…

somewhere along the line, things often seem to go astray;

compromises are made––

perhaps to meet the demands of party structure, personal loyalty, or policy;

perhaps to meet the real or perceived needs of constituents;

perhaps, through the disillusionment and cynicism that comes with experience;

perhaps, because of the trappings of success or personal gain;

or, perhaps, because it’s just so easy to think that the ends justify the means––

until the means become the ends…

until you lose sight of what that ‘better world’ looks like.

 

On one level, perhaps, that dynamic is unique to politics.

And yet, on another level, don’t we see something similar with medicine…

and the law…

and, in fact, with anything with a sense of vocation…

anything that involves some sense of an altruistic purpose?

 

But it’s a little bit different for many of us when it comes to religion.

Perhaps, in a sense, it happens the other way around.

For many of us, our interest in religion begins, initially, in a fairly self-centred way.

For those who are converts…

a religious commitment comes after something of a search or a quest––

a desire to find some purpose in life…

some cosmic comfort or certainty…

or the sense of some existential or spiritual hole needing to be filled.

For those who are born into a religious faith…

and who grow up as part of a religious community…

a similar process actually takes place…

but often more gradually, and more subtly.

But, at some point, as we mature as people…

and as we mature in our faith…

we start to look beyond ourselves––

beyond our own spiritual wants, and insecurities, and needs––

and we find that faith in a transcendent, altruistic God…

drives us towards lives that are also transcendent and altruistic.

If we profess that Jesus incarnates God for us…

and that that incarnation is marked by empathy and compassion…

and if we’re going to claim to ‘follow’ Jesus…

then empathy and compassion need to be characteristic of our lives as well.

But that’s where it gets complicated.

That’s where that whole dynamic of good intentions being compromised…

of ends justifying the means…

and of losing sight of that ‘better world’ that we hope for…

becomes an issue for us, too.

And, perhaps, it’s also complicated by the worldview that we have inherited––

by the values, beliefs, and aspirations…

as well as the ideologies and the biases

in which we have been enculturated by our culture, class, and family––

such that we can think that we’re helping someone…

or making the world better…

or doing what’s right and ‘proper’…

when we’re actually not;

and, in fact, what we’re doing is prioritising property and process over people…

and aesthetics over altruism.

And, in some cases, faith may never actually mature…

and may never grow beyond being a crutch for my need for meaning, security, or comfort…

or beyond the constraints of my ideologies and biases…

so that, when I think I’m making the world ‘better’…

I’m really only shaping it more in my own image…

or propping up my unconscious sense of privilege.

 

The church at Corinth was one that Paul, himself, had founded.

And yet, his relationship with it was rather fraught.

It was comprised of very different people from very different backgrounds.

Most were simple, humble peasants––

uneducated and uncouth, poor and powerless.

There were also quite a number of slaves––

regarded and treated as little better than livestock.

And there was a small number who were well educated, wealthy, and well-to-do…

cultured, refined, and influential––

who saw the world according to their particular enculturation…

out of their enormous sense of privilege.

It’s hard to know why these well-to-do Corinthians were attracted to Christianity…

or why they stayed.

Culturally, well-to-do Corinthian society greatly esteemed wisdom and logic…

and they were obsessed with oratory and rhetorical skill.

Gifted public speakers were the rock stars of their world.

And––

as we shall discover later in the letter––

this obsession is causing problems in the church…

and in their relationship with Paul.

And yet…

somewhat ironically…

Paul deftly draws on the precepts of ancient rhetoric and oratory in crafting this letter to them.

And the piece that we heard this morning… 

from the opening…

is a section where, traditionally, the author would establish his credentials for speaking…

seek to establish goodwill with the listeners or readers…

by offering them praise…

while subtly introducing his themes.

And that’s what Paul does here.

He acknowledges how truly gifted they are “in speech and knowledge of every kind”.

These were the things that, culturally, they valued.

This was, clearly, how they saw themselves.

But…

Paul continues…

this isn’t an end in itself.

The reason Paul claims that they have these gifts––

that they have this inherited privilege––

is that they might be “blameless on the day of our Lord Jesus Christ”

and, he reminds them, they have been “called into the fellowship…of Jesus Christ”. 

Subtly, Paul is suggesting that…

whatever education, resources, gifts or privilege that they have…

the point is that they use it appropriately…

morally

to build up the community of faith and benefit all of the people of God…

including those whom they considered beneath them…

or outside their care.

“To whom much is given much will be expected”.

 

Is that not just as relevant for us, today?

 

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