The Myth of Meritocracy
There’s a moment in this month’s Prepared to Drown episode when you’ll hear, “The system isn’t broken. It’s working exactly as it was designed.” It’s the kind of sentence that sits heavy in your gut. The kind that makes you take a long breath before you keep listening. And that’s exactly what this conversation asks us to do: sit with hard truths—not because we enjoy discomfort, but because discomfort can be a holy invitation.
This episode, we think, pulls no punches - even as we stay kind. We dive straight into the persistent reality of poverty—not as an unfortunate side effect of modern life, but as something actively maintained by the systems we've built and the values we've come to accept. These are the conversations we often avoid in polite company or Sunday coffee hour: the kind that question who gets what, who decides, and what stories we’ve inherited about success and struggle.
But if we are to be people of compassion, of justice, of faith—we must be people willing to tell the truth.
From the outset, we name one of the most pervasive and damaging stories in our culture: that success is earned, and poverty is deserved. It’s a story that shows up in everything from prosperity gospel preaching to economic policy. It’s the belief that hard work leads to reward, and that failure is simply a lack of effort, discipline, or moral fiber. This myth not only excuses injustice—it sanctifies it.
Derek Cook, Director of the Canadian Poverty Institute, reminds us that the systems we live in were built on assumptions about human nature: that we are fundamentally individualistic, competitive, and self-interested. But what if that’s not who we really are? What if, at our core, we are cooperative, interdependent, and wired for connection?
In other words—what if the way forward isn’t about becoming better competitors, but better neighbors?
MLA Diana Batten speaks candidly about her work in public policy and the frustrating ways systems are failing to meet people where they are. From childcare cuts to outdated housing legislation, she offers firsthand examples of how “doing what we’ve always done” is no longer tenable.
But the conversation doesn't stop at policy. Rev. Joanne Anquist brings a theological lens, lifting up how narratives of blessing, wealth, and divine favor have been distorted into tools of exclusion. She reminds us of Jesus’ call to community, where those on the margins were not pitied or blamed—but welcomed, uplifted, and seen as the very image of God.
And Ricardo De Menezes, representing UFCW Local 401, reminds us of the dignity of work—and how that dignity is stripped away when people are paid poverty wages, denied basic benefits, or forced to choose between food and rent despite working full-time jobs.
After laying bare the harm of these entrenched systems, the conversation turns, slowly but surely, toward something more hopeful. The shift begins not with policy proposals or grand solutions, but with a reorientation of heart.
We speak about belonging as the heart of justice—not something we earn by proving our worth, but something inherent to our shared humanity. Christian justice, as theologian Tex Sample writes, is not about keeping score. It’s about knowing we owe one another care, compassion, and solidarity—not because of performance, but because of connection.
From there, the panel imagines what a better world might look like: one where human rights include housing, healthcare, and decent wages. One where universal basic income removes the fear of scarcity. One where churches do more than run food banks—they challenge the reasons those food banks are needed in the first place.
This isn’t pie-in-the-sky idealism. It’s deeply grounded in faith, in lived experience, and in a fierce belief that we are called not just to care for the poor—but to challenge the conditions that keep people poor in the first place.
Bill shares a personal story in this episode of receiving food from a food bank in a season when his family was struggling, even though he didn’t quite know how bad it had become. He shares it not for pity, but because it speaks to how pride, shame, and denial can cloud even our most desperate needs, and to highlight how hope emerges from places where people show up. Without judgment. Without requiring proof that someone is “deserving.” They just come. That is what keeps us going in this work. That is what gives us hope.
Because while systems may feel overwhelming and entrenched, people still show up. Churches still open their doors. Union leaders still fight for wages. Advocates still lobby for housing reform. Volunteers still hand out warm meals. And the Spirit still stirs in the midst of it all, whispering, “There is more than this.”
We do not have to accept a world where some of us are left in dinghies while others sail past in yachts. We can tell the truth. We can build something better. And we can do it together