When You Find Yourself On Third Base Thinking You Hit A Triple

At my men's group on Tuesday one of the guys made us aware of something he heard in a sermon , something that has stayed with me all week. He was visiting a church in a suburb of Annapolis with his family where the pastor addressed the congregation of comfortable, white, upper middle class Presbyterians: "You guys are on third base here thinking you hit a triple."

I'm not a big sports guy, but I know the gist of what he was getting at, because I have thought it myself: we can't always take full credit for where we are in life when we neglect to see what and who have gotten us there.

I can only look at my own situation for reference. One example of something I take for granted on a daily basis is the fact that my parents have been married, happily, for almost forty years. I grew up in an intact home that was loving and supportive. My father was active, involved, and emotionally available. I forget that today this is the exception and not the norm. My baggage from childhood was minimal, and as a result I have not had to overcome the kind of emotional and physical trauma that children of divorce have just to get back to zero. To my parent's credit, they gutted out difficult times in their marriage because, as they said, "divorce was never an option." I have benefitted from that childhood stability in a way I don't think I can even quantify. Seeing what a good and healthy marriage was growing up, I didn't bring a ton of crap into my own marriage.

Another point is that financially, we were never in need. My parents were both teachers and my dad was a saver. We always worked growing up, sure, but my dad would get up with us on Sunday mornings when the newspapers were heaviest and drive us around to deliver them. We borrowed their car, and we always had a safety net if we needed it. He had saved for our college education and so I had no debt when I graduated. As a result I was able to volunteer and travel for a year and discern the possibility of religious life without having to worry about paying back loans. My dad taught me about earning, saving, and investing, among many other life skills that people growing up without a father miss out on.

The list could go on--good health, social standing, career opportunities. Etc.

Now, this can go a couple ways. The one is that I could feel a sense of guilt because of this degree of privilege and try to assuage it in various ways that are largely based in identity politics based on race, class, or gender. The other is to deny any privilege at all and instead focus on accomplishments and work/personal merit irrespective of where I came from.

I don't think guilt is super helpful--it tends to immobilize rather than move forward. Nor do I think a kind of naive dismissal of such privilege is either, since it turns a blind eye to the advantages that moved us along. I think what is good is simply to acknowledge that people have paved the way for many of us--we stand on the shoulders of those who have gone before us. That includes our parents, our grandparents, our ancestors, our forefathers, our communities, those who have fought to preserve our freedom, those who have left homelands to come to new shores, those who have been jailed and beaten for opposing unjust laws, those who have refused to sacrifice to idols and paid with their lives and set an example for us to follow in faith.  We all have to play with the hands we are dealt, and not all are dealt the same hand.

There are two examples I like to turn to in scripture to reconcile the approach to wealth and opportunity.

The first is the story of the rich young ruler, in Mark 10:17-27--a sincere but self-assured young man of privilege who excels in adherence to the law but finds himself tied to his possessions and unable to carry out what Jesus asks of him; that is, to "sell all you have and give to the poor and follow me" (Mk 10:21).

The second is Joseph of Arimathea, also a "rich man" and a disciple of Jesus (Mt 27:57). He assumed the cost and responsibility of Jesus' burial. He asked Pilate to be given the body of Jesus, and he wraps him in a clean linen cloth and lays the body in his own new tomb, which had hewn in the rock (v 59-60). He did not hold tight to his resources but used what he had for the sake of the Lord. As a result he did a great service to him, and did not go away sad the way the rich young ruler did.

It's low hanging fruit to rail against the rich and automatically canonize the poor, but both have a place in God's economy, for as St. John Chrysostom said, “The rich exist for the sake of the poor, and the poor exist for the salvation of the rich.” Like Joseph of Arimathea, let's not get paralyzed by guilt or disdainful of such privileges, but use what has been passed down to us, those material and life benefits, for the sake of the Lord and our brothers and sisters rather than hoard it to ourselves in a sad and lonely manner. We can't take it with us to the afterlife...but it can sure by put to good use here.