Why is choosing the common good so uncommon?

Why is choosing the common good so uncommon?

Matthew 25:34-40

So, here’s a thought experiment.  Let’s imagine a coffee shop.  There is an owner and a steady set of employees, “baristas” we say today.  The majority of those customers are regulars.  They walk in at their “regular” time and are served by their “regular” barrista who knows exactly what they mean when they say, “I’ll have the ‘regular.” Without asking, they write the customer’s name on the cup and the drink is right up.  People recognize each other.  People are nice to one another.  It’s a comforting place.

Now, imagine one day one of the “baristas” is upset.  Everyone kind of knows that this person’s partner has been sick.  Today, they learn that this partner is entering chemotherapy.  All of the employees understand the implication: their friend has to stay healthy.  She explains to them that she is going to be masking.  Pretty quickly, the other employees say, “We’ll mask, too!”  It seems the obvious thing to do, the caring thing to do, maybe even the least that they can do but at least they’re doing something.

Then, there is a pause in the conversation. They stand ready to help their friend.  Here’s what they didn’t know.  How will their customers react? Will they get mad? What if they ask the customers to mask, too?  After all, pretty much everyone knows everyone there.   Why not ask everyone to pitch in and do something small that might help keep their friend’s partner alive?

Would you suggest masking?  Would you feel the need to explain why?  How much detail would you have to give?  What if some people just didn’t seem to care? What if some people get angry?  What if some people stop coming to the shop altogether?

I think we should be able to ask people to make little adjustments in their habits for the sake of the common good.  Generally, though, human beings and Americans, in particular, really don’t want to be bothered.  Theoretically, hypthetically, we might absoutely support the notion of the common good.  However, we tend to balk even when we are asked to make a small sacrifice.  

Don’t believe me?  Here are some examples.  So many people love this country so much.  Ask us.  We’ll tell you.  However, this country basically asks us to do two things:  pay our taxes, not all of which are going to provide a direct benefit to you; and report for jury duty, which is inconvenient.  People do nothing but complain about taxes (but have no problem enjoying public services like infrastructure, social security and medicare.)  Meanwhile, a large percentage of people who are called for jury duty simply don’t report.  (In Illinois, besides being a civic duty, not reporting is a crime for which you can be arrested.) “I support the common good.  Just don’t ask me for my money or my time…”

Of course, if you think about it, you would want a jury of your peers to be there for you if it was your day in court.  Likewise, if your particlar community was hit by a hurricane or a tornado or an earthquake, you would likely be pretty grateful that representatives of your government were there to help.  (I’ve noticed that even the most anti-tax people have been more than happy over the years to receive help when they were the ones who needed it.) “Fine…I get that giving something to the government is necessary and justice doesn’t happen without juries.  I just don’t like writing the check or taking the time off work.  I just don’t like to be bothered.”

There are a whole host of other things that we don’t want to be bothered with, too.  I mentioned recently how few people have chosen to be vaccinated for COVID in the most recent round.  The number I saw was 7%.  This week, I heard that the more accurate number is probably 4%.  The problem is that this shot probably is not a life or death matter for you or for most of your friends.  Instead, it would be something we do to help someone else—the immune impaired or the elderly, for example.  That seems kind of abstract, though, right?  Apparently that’s the case for 96% of us.

Here are a few other things that are just too inconvenient…Stopping at stop signs:  “I’m in a hurry!”  Stopping for a school bus that’s stopped:  “I don’t see any kids!”  Signalling a turn:  “I can’t be bothered.”  Yielding to a pedestrian in a crosswalk:  “Why are they walking so slowly?” Respecting someone who looks different than you or thinks differently than you or loves someone you wouldn’t love? Allowing someone else to speak their mind and judging less and listening more. Forgiving someone?  Seeking someone’s forgiveness?  “Okay, now you’ve really crossed the line!”

So let’s line things up for a minute.  Two weeks ago, we listened to the good news of the Gospel that God loves us…period…end of story.  Last week, we came to the conclusion that if we are loved unconditionally then we probably should be about the busniness of loving one another, especially since Jesus just happened to mention that loving God and loving one another is the most important commandment of all.  So, we practice this love with our life partners and with our children in our homes.  We practice this love with our dearest friends.  We practice this love in the community of the church.  And, honestly, even in those small “venues” that kind of love is a challenge.  Even on the days when you don’t like that friend or family member or spouse all that much, you still have to love them.  That’s hard.  (The only thing harder some days is that they are supposed to love you, too.)

All of those challenges pale in the face of our larger task, though.  What the Gospel of John says, is that “God so loved the world… Presumably, we are supposed to be about the business of doing the same—loving the whole “kit and kaboodle.”  Loving that widely, that broadly, that inclusively is completely overhwelming and excruciatingly difficult and yet, it is the central task of faith.  It’s the kind of challenge that we will never finish, never face perfectly, and never have a chance to even begin to do without plenty of grace and forgiveness between and among us and without plenty of help from God.

If we have any hope of learning to “so love the world,” we also need to be ruthlessly honest with ourselves.  There are tendencies built into us—default settings that emerge under pressure and under stress—that block us from learning how to love more broadly.  We need to name them and become familiar enough with them that we can recognize them and stop them before they overwhelm us.  Here are three of those tendencies that I think about…

First, on a good day, human beings are self-centered.  Our built in, default setting is to get lost in our own wants and needs.  Those Snickers commercials about being “hangry” were brilliant because being just a little hungry can make any of us more than a little grumpy, which would be funny if there wasn’t such a large percentage of the world’s population that is hungry all the time.  Our ancient ancestors survived because they fought tooth and nail to meet their needs and the needs of those closest to them, needs for food and water and shelter and safety.  The problem is that all of those survival instincts remain in us even when we’re just addressing a problem at work or a conflict with a friend or a political disageement. We treat everyday challenges as survival issues and stand ready to ruthlessly destroy anyone who gets in our way.  Or, we just learn to assume the worst about one another and life is never the same. 

Second, human beings are fundamentally insecure.  What makes us special—the ability to analyze and imagine and make predictions about the world around us—also haunts us all the time.  Sure, things are fine right now but what if things change?  We worry and fret and anticipate dangers and distasters, 98 percent of which will never happen, but that worrying costs us our life energy.  Or, when we grow tired of worrying, we turn those skills off and practice denial like champions.  Most of us swing between, “Everything’s great” and “This is a total disaster.”  Allowing our insecurity to take over our lives can rob us of the joy of being alive, much less the sure footing that it takes to be a loving person in a complicated world.

Finally, consider how tribal we are.  Human beings desperately want to belong, to fit in, to be included.  That egotistical part of us says, “I’m special.”  The tribal part of us says, “I won’t really feel special until you all tell me so.” Of course, it is a lovely thing to belong.  It is a genuine comfort to feel like we fit in.  As I’ve been saying to you all for a while, we are safer and stronger and better when we are together.  

However, tribalism is marked not only by the chance for me to fit in but also by the chance to exclude someone else.  How much will we compromise who we are in order to be included, in order to be “in” and not “out?”  How much time and energy are we going to devote to carefully listening to someone else’s instructions about who we should be and what we should think and do? How willing would we be to raise our voices on behalf of someone who is considered “out” who is being abused by our “in” group?

If you take human egocentrism, human insecurity, and tribalism and look at life, it is not mystery why the list of people in this world I might actually love would narrow quickly.  From an egocentric postion, if there’s not something in it for me in loving the other person then what’s the point?  With my insecurity in play, the other’s needs are something that I might respond to some day, when I know that I have more than enough and I know that all threats are over.  Someday, when I’m secure, I’ll get around to loving them.  Lastly, if tribalism has taken over my life then the lines are clear.  If you are a part of my group, I’ll be there for you.  If not, well, don’t go looking for any help from me.  

My point here is this:  following Christ is not natural.  Being a person who lives their faith means that you will be at odds with some of your most instinctive responses, and those are battles we have to win.  We have to do things that are not in our interests, that make us more insecure, not less, and that may jeaporadze our “place” in the groups that matter most to us.  Jesus’ followers were often hungry and homeless, sometimes threatened in real ways, and rarely accepted by any “in”group.  They spent their days in the company of and caring for the overlooked and the ignored.  What they found, though, was not personal gratification or security or “fitting in.”  What they found was the peace that passes all understanding, the deep meaning that reveals what a waste it is to live a life defined by the quesiton, “What’s in it for me?”

Still, we have to acknowledge that the full weight of our economy and culture turns on exploiting our worst human tendencies.  What awaits us is the “season of giving and getting,” with all the messages that ask us if we are getting what we want and whether what we give will be enough.  What awaits us are all the messages about how to keep ourselves and our loved one’s safe (ring doorbells and alarm systems and family heirloom firearms.) What awaits us is the cynical promise that peace is not found “away in a manger” but in giving and getting more and more stuff. 

May God help us all to be better than that…