Transgressing privilege

This is my second attempt at writing this column. I wrote another two weeks ago, but it stalled. The editor, whom I respect and consider a friend, sent it for review to the board of this magazine and an informal editorial advisory committee (I'm a part of both).

The groups were divided, with the most commonly expressed and strongest feelings that it should not be printed.

My goal with this space is to push the boundaries of our love ever wider. It is provocation for edification. For the sake of provoking, I advocated dialogue and participation with a marginalized group seeking greater inclusion, the Postcard Project (see related news story at left).

For the sake of edification, I'm now stepping back to talk about our posture towards people at the margins. Some may wonder why I don't just leave the church if I differ so widely on some points of faith and practice. But I can't leave; this is my church. It has given me a gospel of radical love, such as Jesus' Sermon on the Mount, in which the outcasts and downtrodden receive blessing and hope. It is colourful and full of misfits.

When Zacchaeus, a chief tax collector who was rich, met Jesus, he gave half his possessions to the poor and repaid those whom he had defrauded (Luke 19). His was a gesture of solidarity with the marginalized.

I am like Zacchaeus before he shed some wealth. Our systems of exploitation are similar, but better veiled. My power and privilege is more than financial: I am a white, male, heterosexual, able-bodied, highly educated, urban-living, home-owning, cardriving Christian. Each of these attributes moves me closer to centres of power.

As I seek comfort in my social and economic status, I need less spiritual liberation. Jesus will pass by me en route to the poor unless I leave my station and seek him out. As Mary announced, God "has brought down the powerful... and lifted up the lowly; [God] has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty" ( Luke 1).

In silence, I can ignore my complicity in injustice. I can enjoy privilege, but not receive liberation. I pursue security at the expense of freedom. I deeply regret that not enough Mennonites have shown me the path to the periphery. I wander far.

For the sake of spiritual vitality and radical discipleship, I need to migrate to the margins in as many ways as I can. Each encounter and every action represents who I am and how I deal with power imbalances.

Paradoxically, it is for my own comfort that I attempt to leave my sites of privilege and move towards the stranger, the one who acts differently, the one who transgresses my codes of propriety.

This is a self-imposed move into a "wilderness" of insecurity, led by love, buoyed by the promise of liberation and peace. On the journey I forfeit privilege for the sake of others' pain. I shed a layer of guilt and explore new levels of acceptance. I accept more of myself, my neighbour and our God.

For those with an urge to engage a Samaritan, a woman, a harlot, a Roman centurion or a tax collector, I hope this is an incentive to transgress privilege in the pursuit of love.

[Sidebar]

I need to migrate to the margins In as many ways as I can.

[Author Affiliation]

Aiden Enns can be reached at aiden@geezmagazine.org. He is a member of Hope Mennonite Church in Winnipeg and sits on the Canadian Mennonite board.