There’s a word that gets tossed around a lot these days and it seems to be a hot-button issue. The word I’m talking about is “privilege.” Sometimes people talk about concepts like “white privilege” or “male privilege” or “straight privilege” or “cisgender privilege.” If we’re going to use these words, it’s important that we define them properly. I know and love many people across the political spectrum, and I find that part of what divides us as a society really can come down to vocabulary. If one person uses a word that is not properly defined to the person who hears it, then that person is not communicating effectively. As a preacher, it is important that I’m mindful of both what I say and what people hear me say. On a number of occasions, I have had people come to me after a service and say, “I really disagreed when you said this…” But in reality, I had never clearly defined what “this” is. As the speaker, the onus is on me to communicate effectively. And the English language certainly has its limitations. I am convinced that if people work on communicating more effectively, then they will realize they have more in common than they previously thought.
When it comes to something like privilege, what is meant is that certain qualities were never a hindrance to the privilege bearer’s success. If I acknowledge that I have had the benefit of “white privilege” in my life, it does not mean I did not have to work hard. It does not mean something was handed to me. It does not mean I did not have to put forward time, effort, and work to achieve my goals. What it does mean is that my race was never a factor that prevented me from success. What complicates the concept of white privilege is that as a privileged person, it is not as blatantly obvious for me to notice when I’ve benefited from it. It is easy for me to pat myself on the back and say, “Wow. I did such a great job!” While privilege does not discount that I may have indeed done a good job, traits like my gender identity, race, sexual orientation, or age have never prevented me from the opportunity to do a good job.
Sometimes when people hear about privilege, they say things like, “I sure could use some of that privilege right now!” But that does not honor the definition of privilege. Privilege from which I benefit does not mean I have not had hardships and it does not mean I don’t experience rough patches. Think of it not as a path to success. Instead, think of the image of two Olympic sprinters. For reasons beyond the control of either runner, one of the sprinters has a 10-meter head start. It doesn’t mean the other runner has no chance at winning. And it doesn’t mean the first runner is guaranteed to win. It simply means the course is not created equally for both runners and one of the runners has a clear advantage. If you’ve heard the term “privilege” before but you didn’t understand it the way I just explained it, then someone did a poor job of providing you with a clear definition. If I didn’t explain it well, then I’ve done a poor job explaining it as well. Privilege is not a sin and it’s not something people with privilege need to apologize for. It is, however, something we have a Christian responsibility to use for the benefit of those who do not share our privilege.
As far as it goes, I’m among the most privileged classes of people in the United States. I’m a Christian. I’m an ordained pastor. I have four graduate-level degrees. I’m a male. I’m white. By the definition of age in the Episcopal Church, I’m young. Each of these gives me automatic credibility, even when I don’t realize it and even when the people who give me the credibility don’t realize it. I’ve never had to worry about the fallout from telling my friends or family about who I’ve chosen to take on a date or who I ultimately decided to marry. I never have been pulled over for driving a car because an officer saw me and did not think I looked like I belonged in the car I was driving. I have never had anyone tell me my clothing did not match my perceived gender identity. I have not had anyone try to pay me less money because of my gender. I have never been denied a mortgage or an auto loan because my last name sounded “too ethnic”. I am hopeful you see where I am coming from.
So what does it mean to use my privilege for the benefits of those who do not share it? It means that if someone is willing to listen to my voice because of my privilege, I ought to speak up against injustices. It means that it is important for me to show up when I am called in for jury duty. It means I can share the knowledge I’ve gained from my education with others so that concepts I was fortunate to have learned are more widely understood and received. It means it is important for me to inform myself about ballot issues and candidate profiles and then to get out and vote in every election. It means that I can (and do!) read books by authors and listen to speakers who do not share my privilege and listen carefully to what they have to share with me. It means that I need to make sure that I advocate as best I can for people of color, women, the LGBTQ+ community, the aged, the infirmed, and the imprisoned. Jesus taught us in the 25th chapter of Matthew’s gospel that we are to take care of people who need our help. Advocating for others is about the best way I can think of to do what Jesus asked.
I do not think of advocacy as a red vs. blue issue. I think of it as a Christian issue and I think people on either side of the political spectrum can come together and agree to work for the benefit of all. When we want to live as Christians, sometimes we need to prioritize the needs of others instead of the needs of simply ourselves. I am so thrilled to witness the ways that I truly see you do just that here at St. John’s. I see you when you feed the hungry. I see you when you care for the veterans. I see you when you make cards for the imprisoned. I see you when you work toward fulfilling your baptismal covenant and striving for justice and the dignity of every human person. I don’t claim to know all the answers, but I promise to keep trying to learn. I also commit to being a “safe person” with whom to practice. If you’re feeling uncertain about privilege, come talk to me. I promise to not shame you or to lessen your human experience. I also promise to allow myself to learn from you. If Lent teaches us anything, it’s that we’re all on this human journey together. We have much to learn from each other and much to teach each other. As we do this, we continue to enhance our lives and the lives of those around us. I encourage you to discern whether you are, as I am, a person of privilege. If you are, then let us be mindful to use our privilege for the betterment of the world. I commit to try to use my privilege to make your life better.