Pentecost 22 C: The Beginning of Justice
Dear Partner in Preaching,
So what is this parable about? I realize this isn’t the first time we’ve asked this question this fall, but I find this to be yet another rather vexing little story. In part, that’s because the “parable proper” seems to end one way, promising that God will indeed grant justice quickly to those who call out for it, while Luke introduces the story with another interpretive slant altogether, encouraging Jesus’ followers to pray always and not lose heart. Then again, perhaps the interpretive key falls right in the middle, as we are encouraged to beseech God day and night for justice and, indeed, for all those things we most need, just as this widow does.
Goodness, but what’s an honest working preacher to do? (Okay, so some habits are hard to break. J). Here’s a suggestion: spend a few moments thinking about your congregation and holding them in prayer – where they are, what they are struggling with, what is coming to them and you as either challenge or opportunity – and allow this pastoral analysis and time in prayer to shape your interpretation. If they are discouraged and struggling or have reason to think the deck is stacked against them, then invite them to hear God’s promise to never give up on them and, indeed, to hear and respond to their cries for justice.
If they are facing some formidable challenges, perhaps it would be a good time to remind them about the importance of prayer, maybe even taking time in the sermon for a period of guided prayer. Or maybe you could invite them to write out something for which they need prayer and pass it in, trusting that you will be reading those cards in the coming weeks and praying with and for them. Praying always without losing heart is hard, and nearly impossible alone, which is part of why we gather in community.
Or perhaps your congregation has identified some need in the community that they can address, that they are committed to throwing themselves into. Whether raising money to help an aid agency like Lutheran World Relief address the damage done by Hurricane Matthew or staffing a local food shelter or advocating for low-income housing, you can remind them that these actions commit them to work not unlike that of the widow, beseeching the powers-that-be for justice and seeking to make the world a better place.
Just now, however, I am struck by another facet of this parable based on one simple observation: when something is repeated in a parable, it usually means it’s important. Interestingly, two things are repeated in this story. The first is the characterization of the unjust judge as one who “neither feared God nor had respect for people.” Jesus uses this characterization to describe the judge at the outset of the parable itself, and then the judge himself acknowledges the same when “thinking aloud” (a literary device only Luke uses to reveal the thoughts of a character) about how he will deal with this pesky widow.
And because this phrase is repeated twice, I think it offers a shorthand, and perhaps even minimalist, definition of Luke’s sense of just behavior. Acting justly, that is, is simply fearing God and respecting others. Or, as such affirmations are usually linked, for Luke the root of all justice is to demonstrate your fear/awe of God by respecting those around you. This isn’t new. In chapter ten, Jesus is asked what one must do to inherit eternal life. He, in turn, asks what the law says, and then affirms the answer his interlocutor provides by quoting two portions of the Old Testament: “You should love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength, and with all your mind; and you should love your neighbor as yourself” (Luke 10:25-28). Again, the implication – particularly as this saying occasions the parable of the Good Samaritan – is that one loves God precisely by loving neighbor.
I find this not only interesting but also really helpful, because in every parish I’ve served, different folks within the same community of faith have had different definitions of what constitutes just action in any given set of circumstances. I think that’s both understandable and fair, even when I don’t necessarily agree with the definitions some of my folks may have offered. That is, we may all agree that it’s incumbent on us to care for the poor, but we may disagree as to the best way to do that. And we may agree that we should care for the earth, but have very different approaches to how best to pursue that goal. In these cases, not only may we have a different sense of how to pursue these worthy ends, but when we declare that our way is the truly “just” way, we imply that those who differ are unjust.
Which is why I find this minimalist definition of just behavior rather helpful. The beginning of justice, according to Jesus, is when we show our awe for God by respecting those around us, by granting them a measure of dignity, by being willing to view them as fellow children of God who are worthy of our respect and fair treatment.
Given the depths to which this election cycle has sunk, and given recent discussions about what language is appropriate or, even more, how the way we talk shapes our behavior and affects those around us, I think it may be worth reminding folks of this definition of justice. It’s not all we might want to say about justice, but rather than get bogged down in differences of policy or politics, perhaps we can simply begin with the principle that God expects us to respect others and, indeed, will holds us accountable for just that.
Which brings me to the second phrase, this one about the widow. It is not an exact repetition, as with the judge, but it is noted, again first by Jesus and then by the judge, that this widow keeps coming to demand justice (or, according to the judge, keeps bothering him). Which reminds us that we have a duty not only to treat others with respect but to petition others to do the same. Locker room talk doesn’t have to be tolerated in the locker room or out. Racial slurs can be called for what they are. This isn’t being either over sensitive or politically correct; according to Jesus, it’s simply acting justly. Nor do we have to declare someone acting poorly unjust; we can lift up this modicum of respect for others as the norm that we wish to characterize our congregations, community, and society.
Jesus, in this parable, invites us to imagine two things. First, that even someone like this widow – one of the most vulnerable persons in the biblical world – can make a difference by petitioning for just behavior. And second, that when we do so God is listening and, indeed, will answer our persistent cries quickly. All of which comes as a helpful reminder, an important word of instruction, and a deeply important promise about the character of the God we know in Jesus.
Thanks for proclaiming this word, Dear Partner, as at this particular time and place, it may be just what our people need to hear.
Yours in Christ,
David
As Jesus invites us to consider, if only for a moment, God as an unjust judge, perhaps we should take a moment to ask ourselves, “Have I acted like an unjust judge?”
“Justice is power performing the work of love.”
-Paul Tillich