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Many themes dominate the
Scriptures. There are things we see often. One theme is that
of the Kingdom of God. We are often reminded that we are
Kingdom people. A second dominating theme is the one of money
and possessions. There is more in the Scripture about money
and possessions than we realize. A third theme is grace and
forgiveness, in both the Old and New Testaments.
However, one major theme
sometimes overlooked is the theme of justice. We tend to
neglect or forget or discount this theme. In the prophet Amos
we read, “Let justice roll down like mighty waters.” In the
prophet Micah we read, “What does the Lord require of you but
that you do justice.” Jesus said, “Blessed are those who
hunger and thirst for the right [justice] to prevail, for they
shall be satisfied.” The Psalm text for this morning says,
“Happy are those who observe justice.”
In June of 1963 Martin Luther
King wrote these words from his prison cell in Birmingham,
Alabama, “Human progress never rolls in on wheels of
inevitability; it comes through the tireless efforts of men
[and women] willing to be co-workers with God… We must use
time creatively, in the knowledge that the time is always ripe
to do right.”
There is no denying that
justice is a major theme of discipleship. But how do we know
what is right? How do you know what is really just? What
priorities truly bring peace or fairness or shalom? There the
controversy builds. Opinions differ radically.
What is right or just in the
Holy Land right now? TV news shows are filled with dialogue
and differing opinions. What is right or just in relation to
the one Islamic man who may have been slated for the 9/11
suicide mission that crashed in Pennsylvania? What is right or
just in relation to the issue of capital punishment? What is
right or just in relation to a living wage in the city of
Pittsburgh or in Allegheny Country?
If Martin Luther King was right
(“the time is always ripe to do what is right”), how do we
know what is right and just? I know this much: justice will
never be found in purely human wisdom. Human wisdom will not
arrive at a satisfactory answer to that question. Unless we
are willing to look at justice through new eyes, there will
never be a clear answer.
Two weeks ago Eric Park preached
a sermon here entitled “Living Eucharistically in a Fast Food
World.” Many of you were here. Eric used the term,
“counter-cultural.” It is not a particularly popular term, but
it is descriptive. This past Thursday morning Leonard Sweet
said that most Christians have to be a little bit nuts (nuts
is an anagram for Never Underestimate the Spirit). Being nuts
is not especially popular either.
I read about a minister who
preached an entire sermon one Sunday morning on using a peanut
as his primary point of reference. When the service was over
and people were leaving the church, one person came past him
and said, “Pastor, I never realized I could learn so much from
a nut.”
The fact is that justice
through God’s eyes is counter-cultural and a bit nuts.
In the 1960s Paul Tillich wrote
a little book called Love, Power and Justice. He said
that God is a God of “creative justice.” This is a justice
that far exceeds any conventional wisdom. This is a justice
that exceeds the boundaries of human thought. What does that
mean? What might that kind of justice look like?
I want to suggest one kind of
answer to you today. I just finished reading a fascinating
book that was published in 1999. It is a book by Episcopal
Bishop Desmond Tutu of South Africa. Tutu spoke at Mt. Union
College a few weeks ago. My sister put me onto this book. She
read it, she was enthusiastic about it, I bought it, and I
read it.[i]
The book is the story of the
first years of post-apartheid South Africa after 1990. When
apartheid was finally abolished, what was to become of those
who had perpetrated the awful crimes upon native South
Africans?
Some people wanted
Nuremberg-type trials. However, that was quickly vetoed. Some
suggested that it should be a time of national amnesty. No one
would accept that either.
The end result was something
called the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC). It was a
commission which would try to understand what happened, but
without vengeance. It was a commission which would try to
exercise reparations without retaliation. The TRC found a way
to provide amnesty to those who would tell the truth—the truth
about their moral failure, about how wrong they had been. It
was a way toward healing that included the Christian principle
of forgiveness and grace. However, that healing also asked for
honesty and confession of terrible wrongs that had been done.
In a very real sense, “the
right time had fully come” for the TRC. Bishop Tutu chaired
the commission. Nelson Mandela, another Christian, was
president of the country at the time. Tutu writes these
words.
Our country was indeed on the
verge of a catastrophe which could have seen us overwhelmed by
the kind of carnage and unrest that have characterized places
such as Bosnia, Kosovo, the Middle East, and Northern Ireland.
We should have all been filled to overflowing with immense
gratitude that things turned out differently. We have been
blessed to have as president someone who has become an
international icon of forgiveness and reconciliation and that
so many in our land have emulated their president. One has
longed so eagerly and so desperately for a like generosity of
spirit to have been evoked in the white community by the
magnanimity of those in the black community who, despite the
untold suffering inflicted so unnecessarily on them, have been
ready to forgive their tormentors. (Pg. 164)
And then Tutu adds these very
important words.
It is ultimately in our best
interest that we become forgiving, repentant, reconciling, and
reconciled people, because without forgiveness, without
reconciliation, we have no future. (Pg. 165)
Something radically
extraordinary happened in South Africa in the 1990s. There was
confession, forgiveness, restoration, and healing. It was not
a trial or a court, but it was a Christian justice process.
What happened was a radical form of healing justice.
I began to wonder what about the
Holy Land? What if this began to happen in that awful,
hate-filled conflict right now? Bishop Tutu writes,
I hope that philosophers,
theologians and thinkers within the Jewish community will
re-open this issue and consider whether it is possible to come
to a different conclusion for the sake of the world. (Pg.
278)
What if Ariel Sharon
went to the West Bank and apologized for Jewish settlements
among the Palestinians? What if Yassar Arafat, speaking
for the best of Islam, apologized for years of terrorism
against the Jewish State? What if Israel began to understand
that suicide bombings come out of a desperate sense of
futility regarding the future? What if Palestinians begin to
understand the Jewish need for a nation, a country, and a
place? There is no future without forgiveness.
Christians are charged with
keeping the flame of hope alive in the world.
I came across a story about two
servicemen who were standing in front of the Vietnam memorial
in Washington, DC. One of them said, “Have you forgiven those
who held you prisoner of war?” Replied the other, “I will
never forgive them.” The first then said, “Then it seems they
still have you in prison, don’t they?”
There is no future without
forgiveness. There is no justice without confession, grace,
and reconciliation.
Bishop Tutu even dares to make
this statement about the United States.
It may be, for instance,
that race relations in the United States will not improve
significantly until Native Americans and African-Americans get
the opportunity to tell their stories and reveal the pain that
sits in the pit of their stomach as a painful legacy of
dispossession and slavery. We saw in the Truth and
Reconciliation Commission how the act of telling one’s story
has a cathartic, healing effect. (Pg. 279)
Are the issues simple? Of course
not. Our solutions are always imperfect at best. The Truth and
Reconciliation Commission did not bring in the Kingdom in
South Africa. But what might happen if justice rolled down
like waters from the followers of Jesus? What might happen if
we passionately adhered to Micah’s call to do justice? What
might happen if we hungered and thirsted to see the right
prevail? What might happen if we believed that the time was
ripe to do what is right?
Can you and I model God’s
creative, loving, forgiving justice at every point? Can you be
Kingdom people who model Kingdom living?
A little girl was coming home
from church with her parents. “Mommy,” she said, “the preacher
said that God is bigger than we are.”
“Yes, honey, that’s true,” came
the reply.
“He also said that God lives
within us.”
“Yes,” said the mother, “that’s
true as well.
Replied the daughter, “Well, if
God is bigger than us and God lives in us, wouldn’t God show
through?”
Will the God of righteousness
and justice show through you and me? Will justice reign
because we share God’s passion for shalom? Blessed are those
who hunger and thirst to see the right prevail, for they shall
be satisfied.
[i] The title is No Future
without Forgiveness, published by Image Doubleday. The
paperback version retails for $14.95.
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