The Parable Of The Burritos
(Credit: Flickr Creative Commons)
Ok.
I should probably come clean and admit this isn’t exactly a story about burritos.
But it’s not, not a story about burritos either.
It is, at the very least, a story about burritos and one very good burrito in particular: the California burrito.
At least that’s what it’s called at my local taco and burrito shop. It is, as the name implies, a burrito. It’s stuffed with carne asada, cheese, french fries, guacamole, and not sour cream because I leave that nonsense out because gross.
I was enjoying my…I’d rather not say what number…California burrito a couple of weeks ago when a good friend of mine walked in a sat down across from me. This wasn’t a planned appointment. We simply both share excellent taste in burritos.
As we enjoyed our fine delicacies, we talked as we often do about the various things in the world that were driving us nuts, offering various solutions that should humanity simply heed our advice, would once and for all solve all of the world’s problems.
One particular problem that really stuck in my crawl that day, and frankly most days, was white people.
I get that’s maybe a bit ironic since I’m a white people, but we drive me nuts a lot of times and when we drive me nuts I end up ranting about us and when I end up ranting about us I inevitably come around to one of the most convicting pieces of writing I’ve ever read.
Dr. King’s Letter from a Birmingham Jail.
Particularly this section….
I must make two honest confessions to you, my Christian and Jewish brothers. First, I must confess that over the last few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro's great stumbling block in the stride toward freedom is not the White Citizens Councillor or the Ku Klux Klanner but the white moderate who is more devoted to order than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says, "I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I can't agree with your methods of direct action"; who paternalistically feels that he can set the timetable for another man's freedom; who lives by the myth of time; and who constantly advises the Negro to wait until a "more convenient season." Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.
Let me highlight a bit of that again, just so you don’t miss it because it will be important as we go along…
I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro's great stumbling block in the stride toward freedom is not the White Citizens Councillor or the Ku Klux Klanner but the white moderate who is more devoted to order than to justice…
A greater stumbling block than the Klan.
Sit with that for a minute and consider for a moment just how profoundly frustrated Dr. King must have been with white moderates to not just compare them to Klan members but to claim they could be an even bigger stumbling block to his cause than people who wear white hoods, burn crosses, and lynch black people without consequence.
That may sound like literary hyperbole but consider how many people - particularly white people who consider themselves “in the middle” of the political spectrum - find themselves in various positions of power, whether that be holding political office or sitting on a church board or simply being held in high esteem in their social circle, and could exert their influence or power for the sake of those in need but choose not to because of the tension it would create or what it might cost them personally.
Over the last year or so, particularly last summer as protests over the murder of George Floyd erupted across the country, I often heard this sentiment shared across social media in various meme form: “If you’re wondering what you would have done during the Civil Rights Movement, you’re doing it now.”
Maybe what you were doing “now” was marching in the streets. Maybe you were protesting on social media. Maybe you were a silent observer not sure what to say or do in a moment that felt overwhelming. Maybe you did a bit of all three.
If you are white person like me, then I hope for at least a moment you faced the reality of our privilege and the simple fact that if you or I had been in George Floyd’s shoes that day, no one would have kneeled on our necks until our last breath left our lungs.
Privilege is a word that is hard for a lot of us white people to hear because a lot of us white people associate the word with Lifestyles of the Rich & Famous and because our upbringing was nothing like Lifestyles of the Rich & Famous and because our upbringing was actually pretty tough and we’ve had to work hard for everything we have, the idea that we could be privileged makes no sense.
But we are privileged.
In myriad ways.
Whether it’s not having to fear being murdered in our car during a police stop or not having to worry that the name on our resume will immediately turn off potential employers because of assumptions they have about people with names that sound like that or never being silently monitored by store employees convinced that the color of your skin makes you more prone to theft, the unavoidable reality of life is that white people enjoy privileges not afforded to our neighbors with shades of skin different than our own.
That day as my friend and I ate burritos and solved the world’s problems, a parable from the gospel of Matthew happened to cross my mind.
It’s come to be known as the Parable of the Talents and it’s told by Jesus at the very end of his ministry.
I won’t repeat the entire parable for you now, this post is long enough as it is. But the too long, didn’t read version of the story is this: three servants are given “talents” of varying amounts by their master who promptly goes away on a trip. When he returns, he discovers that two of the servants have put their talents to work to earn more talents for their master, but the servant who received the least talent - just one talent but importantly, not no talent - hid his talent in a field and did nothing with it. His master was upset and, well, there was a lot of weeping and gnashing of teeth for the lazy servant.
I think I lot of us don’t give a lot of thought to this particular parable because a lot of us think of “talent” exclusively in the sense of money and we aren’t privileged enough to have much money to being with so this parable, we tell ourselves, doesn’t really apply to our lives.
But maybe we should think of talents in a more broader sense than just money.
Maybe this is a parable more about what we do with whatever privileges or gifts or opportunities or talents we do have in life than how many money we have in the bank.
If that’s the case - and if subtlety isn’t really you’re thing, that’s exactly what I’m saying the parable is about - then maybe this parable is a lot like that meme going around social media last year.
Maybe the Parable of the Talents is really a parable about privilege and what we do when we have the chance to act. Maybe Jesus isn’t trying to tell us he’s worried about making interest on our tithes and offerings. Maybe instead Jesus is challenging us to spend the capital we do have - whether that be white privilege, socio-economic status, gifts, talents, passions, relationships, connections, influence, opportunity - for the sake of others.
I speculate to that effect because of the parable that immediately follows.
It’s about sheep and goats and the end of the world.
In it, Jesus says that at the end of all things he will decide who gets to pass through the pearly gates not based on profession of faith or affirmation of doctrine or how much we tithed or how often went to church, but rather based on how we can answer these simple questions: I was hungry. Did you feed me? I was thirsty. Did you give me something to drink? I was naked. Did you clothe me? I was sick and in prison. Did you come and care for me?
Perhaps there’s a connection between these two adjacent parables.
And a challenge.
A challenge to spend whatever capital we have in whatever form we have it whenever the opportunity arrives to spend it on behalf of those in need.
It’s a challenge that faces us whenever we ask ourselves what we would have done during the Civil Rights Movement or any other moment of heroism where we like to envision ourselves doing the right thing and being on the right side of history.
When we hear the exhaustion in Dr. King’s voice as he writes about challenge of white moderates, I can’t help but think back to Jesus’ parable of the talents and hear in Dr. King’s lament a frustration over people who profess to follow the way of Jesus but refuse to spend any of their personal capital when others are in need because spending that capital could mean a drop in social status, the fracturing of relationships, the loss of a job, or worse.
A lot of us would like to think we would be marching with Dr. King during the Civil Rights Movement, but if our actions in the face of the mountain of racial, economic, and social injustices today are any indication, the truth is we never would have put our talents to work back then.
We would have been too afraid of what it might have cost us, what we might have lost in the process, or who we might have offended to risk upsetting the status quo of our lives to speak out and stand up alongside the marginalized, the oppressed, and the least of these.
Each and every one of us has unique gifts, resources, and, yes, even privileges.
The question is are we willing to put those talents to work serving those in need?
Or when the time comes to take a stand, will we be too afraid of the potential cost and bury our talents in a field instead?