When Jesus recruited his disciples, he did not pick from the usual suspects. He was a rabbi, but did not pick any seminary students. He was a theologian but did not invite any religious scholars. He was an itinerant preacher but didn’t pick anyone who was well-traveled. He called local fishermen. He called a tax collector and a political radical. While the Scriptures only list men as among those he called, we know that his close inner circle included women in positions of trust and authority.
This may seem like a quaint point: Oh, Jesus chose unlikely people! But I think his decision is important. It goes far below the surface. Jesus is choosing people who will not only follow and learn from him, but whom he expects to become leaders themselves. They will build the new community he envisions after he is gone. There is nothing to suggest he is doing this out of necessity. Rather, Jesus is intentional, thoughtful. He is creating a community that finds value in people whom the dominant culture has disregarded, ignored, or simply taken for granted.
Jesus’ choices call into question our idea of merit, of who is deserving. Did Jesus choose people to join in his work despite the fact that they were less qualified? Was his invitation to community an act of charity – a handout for those who did not deserve it? Were there far more qualified candidates for leadership in his movement that were passed over because he wanted to make a perverse point? You know the answer here. Jesus does not engage in trivialities or virtue signaling. He is the incarnate God. He is on a mission. His actions are deliberate and authoritative. His decisions point to a different understanding of whose voices should be heard, whose efforts make a difference, whose gifts are meant to be valued.
Jesus’ ministry reflects this. He teaches of a God who will make things equitable and draw people from the margins into the center of community. He envisions and describes a culture and mindset that will support such radical inclusion. He spends most of his time not in religious centers, but among people, teaching, healing, listening, sharing. His understanding of a better world incorporates a broader spectrum of humanity. His idea of leadership includes the voices and experiences of those who have lived their lives outside the circles of power and influence. What we see Jesus doing is simple but clear: He is expanding our notion of where we find blessing. He is transforming our idea of who and what we mean when we say “us”.
And we see this in the early church. We see a movement made up of the people whom Jesus has gathered. We see women in positions of leadership. We see fishermen speaking truth to people in positions of power. We see common people performing miracles. We find out that none of this is accidental.
We see St. Paul insisting that God’s beloved community is meant to cross racial, cultural, socioeconomic bounds. He asserts that “there is no Jew or Greek, no slave or free, no male or female, for all are one in Christ Jesus.” Taken in the context of his ministry, this is not a plea for so-called colorblindness to difference – which we know to be impossible. Rather, it is a forceful proclamation against segregational practices and class distinctions in the Christian faith.
Paul also insists that membership in the community Jesus has founded is not like being the member of a club, but of a body. In the body, every single member has a function, every single member is valuable. And Paul claims the parts that have historically been treated as unimportant, are often the most important, whether people have recognized them or not.
The early church then, in deep faithfulness to Jesus’ vision and ministry, is a community that intentionally values diversity, equity, and inclusion.
Diversity.
Equity.
Inclusion.
Diversity, equity, and inclusion are currently in the crosshairs of a political and cultural movement that is plainly and passionately undermining the work of Jesus and his followers. Sometimes I feel like I use too many words, so let me use more in hopes of being as clear as possible: The demonization and dismantling of diversity, equity, and inclusion laws, initiatives, and guidelines is utterly anti-Christ. The fact that many of the people behind this work are themselves Christian doesn’t make it any less true.
We are watching our civic leaders speak ill of and actively destroy diversity, equity, and inclusion.
Say these words, please. Please don’t say DEI. If we are going have a conversation about what we want to be true about this country we share, there’s no use in trifling with abbreviations or shorthand. I am a Christian who is also American, and that means I care about the soul of this country. Maybe you do too. By virtue of our Christian faith, we are bound to a God who seeks diversity, equity, and inclusion. We are baptized into the vocation of creating communities that are diverse, equitable, and inclusive. And, again, we are obliged to say these words out loud: It’s easy enough to utter, “I am against DEI.” Much more difficult to say, “I am against diversity, equity, and inclusion.
We may posture our objections to diversity, equity and inclusion as objections only to specific policies, we may say we are speaking on behalf of meritocracy. We may be sincere when we say these things. For most of my life I was a person who, in the name of meritocracy, spoke out against diversity, equity, and inclusion initiatives. I wonder if it is coincidental that I tended to see all my own accomplishments as merited, while comfortably questioning the achievements of others – especially those that do not look, talk, or think like me.
There’s a lot to be said for the idea of merit. The problem has been, and continues to be, who decides who deserves something? Who sets the parameters for merit in our communities, in our country? The people who are already in power do and always have. Arguments for merit might have more teeth if we were operating on a level playing field. We are not. We never have been. This is not new, and it is not a problem unique to our time or place. Once, when Jesus was teaching in a way that asserted his own merit and authority, some around him muttered, “Isn’t he just the carpenter’s son?” Another person, when hearing of his rising prominence, asked rhetorically, “Has anything good ever come out of Nazareth?”
The implications are clear: We define merit based on the status quo and the existing structures of our culture – whether they are healthy or not. And Jesus seeks to subvert our status quo, to dismantle the existing structures that silence, marginalize, and harm large portions of our populace – even when those structures have been built in his name.
Think for a moment about the false dichotomy that is created when we argue against diversity, equity, and inclusion by saying we support meritocracy. The statement is simple: We are saying people who do not fit the paradigms and measures of the dominant culture are less qualified. This leads straight White able-bodied men like me to trust someone is qualified only if they fit within my demographic. If they are disabled, or older, or younger, or of a different race, gender, or sexuality, or nationality, I can dismiss them as “a DEI hire” and ignore everything they bring to the table. And this, as I’ve said, is simply and obviously anti-Christ. Because Jesus Christ seeks diverse, equitable, and inclusive community. Jesus Christ sees each human as inherently belonging, unquestionably valuable, unconditionally beloved.
I genuinely do not care to which political party you belong, your ideological preferences, or for whom you voted: If you are a Christian, then creating communities that center diversity, equity, and inclusion are at the heart of your work on earth. They are part of your holy vocation. And it’s not charity work. We are one body. When I use my hands to grab my foot and stretch my legs, my hands aren’t doing my legs a favor: My body is taking care of itself, its health. We are one diverse, equitable, inclusive body. This is one of God’s great gifts to us. I pray we act like it.
