During our Ash Wednesday service, we read an episode from Luke’s gospel regarding Jesus’ journey toward Jerusalem. The most direct route from Galilee to Jerusalem would go through the region called “Samaria.” Samaritans were part of the broad Jewish faith, but with some significant uniqueness, and there was a long history of mutual suspicion between Jews and Samaritans. Still, it was not unusual for Jews to travel through Samaria and to stay overnight along the way. When Jesus sent messengers ahead of him to find accommodations in Samaria, the Samaritans refused to let him stay, because he was making his way to Jerusalem. I don’t understand all the particulars of the Samaritans’ refusal, but we all know quite well the dynamics at play.
We know borders. We know the tensions that arise between “us” and “them.” We know the power that “landowners” have over “trespassers.” We know historic mistrust. We know how to perpetuate stereotypes. We know tribalism and xenophobia. We know what it means to view someone else as “other.” While we don’t know the particular history and culture at work between Jews and Samaritans in this story, we know the dynamics of the story all too well.
During our Ash Wednesday service, we each received a small slip of paper with the word “Prejudice” printed on it. Prejudice: literally to pre-judge. It is a way of holding a framework that shapes our expectations, blinds us to exceptions, and offers confirmation bias to our presumptions. In other words,
Prejudice is something that we all hold. We like to imagine that we’re not prejudice, and I’m sure that we make anti-prejudicial choices often. But prejudice goes far beyond the likes of Bull Connor, the Police Commissioner in Alabama who used firehoses and dogs to attack civil rights marchers. It is a part of the human condition of sin. It is part of our biology and psychology, as we are born into a particular family with particular features that speak a particular language, follow particular habits and worship (or don’t worship) a particular god. We are wired to observe and be shaped by that environment, part of which is to “learn” how to conduct ourselves, how to relate to others, how to protect ourselves, and so on. When we do, we also develop a sense of what is “normal,” and, behold, it is us. Once we establish that we – our ways, our faith, our leanings, our sexuality, our gender identification, and so on – are “normal,” we have the basis on which prejudice is fixed.
When we began planning Ash Wednesday, Sue-Ann Wichman and I came up with the idea of putting the word “prejudice” on a slip of dissolvable paper, and as an act of confession, to put our paper into the baptismal font and watch it disappear. However, after ordering the dissolvable paper, we ran a test and discovered that the paper will indeed dissolve (some), but the ink and therefore the word “prejudice” sticks around. And then, quite by accident, I discovered a new parable in the font. Prejudice will not magically disappear when we confess our sins and turn to God for forgiveness. Prejudice has staying power; it sticks around. But the assumptions, the certainties, the opinions on which we carry our prejudice can be dissolved by the waters of baptism. That allows us to reframe our prejudice and to “pre-judge” everyone we see as a beloved child of a gracious God.
What a beautiful possibility for our Lenten journey. Will you take a moment and watch this video. It’s only 90 seconds long and is best if you view it in silence. You can find it here.
Mark of St. Mark
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