People as things ....

I recently led our staff reflection. I chose to share one of my favourite quotes from Sir Terry Pratchett's Carpe Jugulum. It is one I have pinned on the wall next to my desk, and for me, it is one of, if not the best, definitions of sin I have ever read.

There is a very interesting debate raging at the moment about the nature of sin, for example,” said Oats. “And what do they think? Against it, are they?” said Granny Weatherwax.

“It’s not as simple as that. It’s not a black and white issue. There are so many shades of gray.”

“Nope.”

“Pardon?”

“There’s no grays, only white that’s got grubby. I’m surprised you don’t know that. And sin, young man, is when you treat people as things. Including yourself. That’s what sin is.

“It’s a lot more complicated than that . . .”

“No. It ain’t. When people say things are a lot more complicated than that, they means they’re getting worried that they won’t like the truth. People as things, that’s where it starts.”

“Oh, I’m sure there are worse crimes . . .”

“But they starts with thinking about people as things . . . ”

Terry Pratchett, Carpe Jugulum (1998)

Much of the work I currently do is focused on the marginalisation of groups and individuals due to race, sexuality, disability, or poverty. There are often significant areas of intersectionality, but they all have one thing in common, they all fit within this definition of sin.

The way we often treat people as objects was hammered home to me this week while working on a blog post about disability theology. The post examines how the medical, moral, and social models of disability influence our understanding of disabled people in scripture and our communities. It focuses specifically on the story of the "man born blind" in John 9.

Rather than being seen as a whole person with a name, family, hopes, and dreams. He instead becomes "the man born blind"; his entire existence is tied to his use as a theological illustration. In doing this, we have effectively reduced a complex person to a thing. This happens for many disabled people; the need for access and inclusion becomes a problem to be solved or an issue to be debated, which often loses sight of the person or people who are struggling to find a place where they belong and can simply be themselves.

Last night, I was talking with a friend who lamented how people so often seem to respond to their disability by telling them that "God gave you this for a reason." That "reason" often turns out to be the way that they inspire others or the lessons people learn from their life. So often we fail to see the person behind the disability, never looking at what that person brings to the church community, but instead seeing them as a drain on resources, an object of pity, a learning opportunity, or at best, as an opportunity for God to show their power.

Over the last few years, I have listened to so many stories from disabled people who have asked for prayer at church and have had everyone assume that they must want prayer for healing, when often the prayer is for a job interview, for a safe journey, or to find their lost cat. (which Tiffany has told me is the most important prayer request possible). The person is hidden by their disability, which is seen as a problem that needs to be fixed. Several people have mentioned that it feels like they get prayed for whenever the church runs out of other topics. It is easy to pray for disability because, after all, surely they want to be "normal".

Of course, this issue is not limited to disability. Anytime we turn the lives of people into an issue to be debated or a problem to be fixed, we are falling into that same trap of "people as things." so often we debate issues of poverty, racism, or "the gays," seemingly forgetting that we are talking about real people's lives, often without including them in the conversation.

Is this sin? It is generally well intentioned, but is often about making ourselves feel better, or at least more comfortable, rather than actually enabling the person in front of us to live as a whole person.

Jesus does not always ask for permission before healing someone, something which I do have a bit of a gripe with. But he always treats people as whole people, not simply a problem to be solved or as a subject of debate. In fact so often the point which seems to come from Jesus's encounters with those at the margins is the need to see beyond the difference to the person at the centre.