Reveal

This is the First Sunday of Lent sermon for March 9, 2025, based on Turning Over Tables: A Lenten Call for Disrupting Power by Kathy Escobar.

The Wheel of Power

As part of my work in anti-racism efforts and in promoting diversity, equity, and inclusion, I learned about intersectionality. This concept is a framework that helps us understand how different aspects of a person’s identity—such as race, gender, class, sexuality, ability, and more—interact and create unique experiences of both privilege and oppression. The term was first coined by legal scholar Kimberlé Crenshaw to describe how Black women face discrimination not just based on race or gender separately, but in a way that is shaped by both at the same time.

If you take a moment to reflect, you will realize that you are made up of multiple identities. For example, I am a Puerto Rican Latina. I am a daughter, a sister, an aunt. I am a pastor, a writer, a musician, and an editor. But I am also light-skinned. I have a master’s degree. I can read and write. I grew up in a middle-class neighborhood. I am single. I am a cisgender woman. I am not thin. And so on.

Often, we go through life unaware of how our identities shape our experiences of privilege and oppression. This is why there are visual tools that help us reflect on power dynamics and encourage self-examination, leading us to deeper revelations about ourselves and the society we live in.

One such tool is the Wheel of Power and Privilege, a visual representation that helps us recognize our proximity to power. This model places dominant or privileged identities (such as white, male, cisgender, straight, wealthy, able-bodied, etc.) at the center, while marginalized identities (such as people of color, women, LGBTQ+ individuals, working-class people, disabled individuals, etc.) are positioned further out. The closer you are to the center, the more societal privilege you tend to have; the farther out you are, the more systemic barriers you may face.

I invite you to look at the illustration created by Sylvia Duckworth, a Canadian educator. Take a moment to assess where you find yourself in relation to power and marginalization. If you’d like, you can take the image with you for further reflection.

Then, consider these questions:

• To what extent were you aware of the areas where you experience privilege or marginalization?

• Which aspects of your identity make you feel uncomfortable—whether due to privilege or oppression?

• When people see or meet you, which identity do they recognize first (or give the most importance to)? Which aspects of your identity would you like them to acknowledge as well?

• What assumptions do people tend to make about you? Have they ever misjudged your privilege or marginalization based on a particular characteristic?

In her book, Kathy Escobar invites us to examine the assumptions we hold about ourselves and others. Society—both consciously and unconsciously—often promotes the idea that being white, able-bodied, financially secure, neurotypical, married, and straight means you are "better off" than others. Sometimes, that applies to being Christian as well. This notion is what places these individuals closer to power.

The first step on this Lenten journey is to open our eyes to what society tells us about power. Only then can we begin to ask ourselves: Do we truly believe what we’ve been taught? As Escobar states, we must address power honestly and directly so that we do not contribute to the problems it creates—both in our relationships with one another and in our relationship with God.

Have Mercy of Me!

If we analyze the story of Bartimaeus through the Wheel of Power and Privilege, we will see clear themes of marginalization and access to power. We will also notice how Jesus actively challenges the cultural norms and traditions of his time.

Bartimaeus is a marginalized figure in multiple ways. He is blind, which places him outside the structures of power that prioritize able-bodied individuals. In Jewish society, blindness was often seen as a mark of divine punishment or misfortune, further pushing him to the fringes.

The passage also tells us that Bartimaeus was a beggar. He had no financial resources, no steady work, and was completely dependent on the generosity of others. He wasn’t even inside the city—he was sitting by the roadside, both physically and socially positioned at the margins, where he could be easily ignored. And when he tried to cry out for Jesus’ attention, the crowd attempted to silence him, reinforcing his lack of power and status.

In the part of the passage that we did not read, those following Jesus rebuke Bartimaeus and tell him to be quiet. They represent how society often suppresses the voices of the marginalized, dictating who is heard, who has access to power, and who is deemed worthy of attention. These followers remind us that dominant groups—whether by wealth, ability, or social standing—often maintain power by controlling access to opportunities and resources.

Yet, two moments in this story disrupt the power structures at play.

First, Bartimaeus refuses to be silent. Aware that Jesus is near, he persists—shouting louder and louder—because he recognizes that Jesus can give him what he wants and needs. This persistence is an act of agency and faith. He is not passive in his struggle; he claims his right to be seen and heard.

Then, Jesus stops and listens. Instead of dismissing Bartimaeus, Jesus centers his voice and agency. He does not assume what Bartimaeus needs; instead, he asks him directly: “What do you want me to do for you?” (¿Qué quieres que te haga?). This moment is significant—Jesus respects Bartimaeus’ autonomy, something often denied to those with less privilege.

This disruption of power leads to transformation and inclusion. Once healed, Bartimaeus follows Jesus, turning marginalization into active discipleship. His story demonstrates that when power structures are challenged, dignity and belonging can be restored.

Jesus does not just heal Bartimaeus; he lifts him up as an example of faith. In doing so, Jesus redefines power and privilege in the kingdom of God—a kingdom where those whom society or religion have cast aside are uplifted, valued, and embraced as worthy of God’s love.

This is not just an ancient story. Power and privilege have shaped human interactions for as long as we have existed—and we are still struggling with these issues today, even in the church.

The Importance of Understanding Power

Franciscan friar and ecumenical teacher Richard Rohr, in his book Breathing Under Water: Spirituality and the Twelve Steps, makes a striking observation:

“Christians are usually sincere and well-intentioned people until you get to any real issues of ego, control, power, money, pleasure, and security. Then they tend to be pretty much like everybody else. We are often given a bogus version of the Gospel, some fast-food religion, without any deep transformation of the self; and the result has been the spiritual disaster of ‘Christian’ countries that tend to be as consumer-oriented, proud, warlike, racist, class-conscious, and addictive as everybody else—and often more so, I'm afraid.”

Kathy Escobar uses this quote to denounce the lies that  church people can  believe and emphasize the urgency of confronting power—of developing a desire to see more clearly and a commitment to noticing how deeply embedded power dynamics are in our world. She calls us to seek greater truth. We need to be like Bartimaeus. We need to want to see.

But this will not be easy—for us as Christians or as people positioned at different levels within the structures of power.

When I co-led the Anti-Racism Policy workshop with Susan Barnes at the Presbytery meeting, I shared these illustrations with the group. As Escobar reminds us, history is most often told by the winners. Our challenge is to dig deeper, to critically examine the facts, and to confront uncomfortable truths.

Consider these examples:

• We know that the GI Bill helped veterans, but we don’t often hear how banks refused to approve loans for Black veterans, preventing them from building generational wealth.

• We know that the Supreme Court ruled racial segregation in public schools unconstitutional, but we rarely talk about how chronic underfunding continues to harm poor communities of color, creating de facto segregated school districts.

We need to want to see. And with all the information available to us today, we must make the effort to fact-check, to ask hard questions, to seek truth, and to engage with identities and realities beyond our own.

So, who are the Bartimaeuses in our society today? Who are the ones being marginalized, silenced, or excluded?

And what role are we playing? Are we acting like the crowd—dismissing and silencing—or like Jesus—listening and empowering?

How do issues of disability, poverty, and social exclusion continue to affect people today?

In what ways can we amplify marginalized voices rather than overlook or silence them?

These are critical questions as we begin our Lenten journey of healing. True healing requires honesty—an acknowledgment of our identities, our position in the Wheel of Power and Privilege, and a willingness to untangle ourselves from the false narratives of power that we have been taught.

As Richard Rohr reminds us:

“You cannot heal what you do not first acknowledge.”

There is healing to be had—but we must first open our eyes to see.