Epiphany 4, Year A, 2002

Trinity Cathedral, Trenton NJ

Readings: Micah 6:1-8; I Corinthians 1:26-31

I still remember the first time I heard the words, or at least, the first
time I heard them and remembered. I was in the 7th grade, and had just
started
at an all girls Anglican school.
It must have been the first or second week
when we were handed a sheet to memorize
- school prayer, hymn, and anthem -
and the only one I can still remember
is the anthem -
a glorious arrangement for organ and sopranos,
sung by 500 teenage girls,
of the words of the prophet Micah.
"He has told you, O mortal, what is good"
and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice
and to love kindness,
and to walk humbly
with your God?"

It sounds so easy - a three step plan
to life as a Christian.
Do justice.
Love kindness.
Walk humbly with God.
That's all there is to it.
Good sentiments
for a school full
of teenage girls.
And growing up, it seemed a good ideal
to adhere to, a straightforward path
to responsible and mature adulthood.

But if it ever was simple, and I'm not sure it was,
it has become infinitely harder
these last few months.
We're almost sick of hearing about September 11, and the difference it's made,
we wonder if the talking will ever be done
or if the wounds will ever be able to heal,
but we still have to struggle
with the contradictions
and the complexities
which it's brought to our attention.

What is justice? Where can we find it? Is it different,
depending on whether you're a family member of someone who died, a
or a citizen of this country, or a terrorist, or an Afghan woman?
What is kindness, or, as some translations put it,
mercy? Is it about
doing nice things
for other people? Is it about
the unexpected way
that the city of New York
pulled together last year,
so that where once you would see blank faces,
now you hear stories of shared smiles, and help on the subway?

And walking humbly
with God?
Is there danger
in religious fervor? What does it mean
to be people
of faith?

These are not easy questions,
and there are no easy answers.

But let me try
to explore them a little.

To do justice.
Justice
is a word
that's bandied around a lot
in our society.
We tend to use it
to speak of people getting
what they deserve.
We talk about bringing people - like the hijackers - to justice
and we mean,
making sure
they are punished.
We talk of people who have been hurt
seeing justice,
and we mean,
that the person who injured them
should be paid back
in some sense
for what they have done.
We talk about social justice,
and we mean,
everyone having a fair go
at life.

But the justice
of Micah,
the justice of the God of Scripture
is about caring for those
who are lest able
to care for themselves.
It's about privileging those
who are least privileged.
It's about looking outside ourselves
to the people who are always outsiders,
and caring for them
as if they were our own families.
In biblical terms, it's caring for widows
and orphans, and people who have been cast out of society,
the people
no one
wants
to know.
And it goes beyond
gifts to charities,
important as they are,
it goes beyond bandaid remedies, which patch up the obvious wounds
without ever dealing
with what has caused the injury.
Doing justice
is thinking about where our social system
is inadequate,
and every time we buy something for the food pantry
writing a letter to our political representatives
urging them to make political decisions
which are biased towards helping
those in need.
Doing justice
is looking at how our use of energy
impacts on people in other countries,
how it pollutes
and how it skews their economies
and making choices
about what sort of car we will drive,
and what appliances
we buy.
Doing justice
is becoming informed about the power wielded by our politicians
on the world stage,
and being prepared to pay the costs ourselves
of more just international policies.
Doing justice
is not just about an ideal
but a way of life.

In yesterday's New York Times,
there was a report
about the World Economic Summit
being held this week in New York City.
And alongside the rhetoric about
"going after terrorism"
was the recognition
that "terrorism really flourishes in areas of
poverty, despair and hopelessness, where people see no
future."

Doing justice
is about being willing to spend as much building and rebuilding
nations torn apart by war and famine and poverty
as we are willing to spend on defense,
about putting more energy into being peacemakers
than in taking revenge.
Do justice -
they're simple words, but so hard
to live out.

And to love kindness
is not a whole lot easier.
This isn't just the kindness
of Boy Scout good deeds.;
it's not just the kindness
of being nice.
One of the older translations of the bible
called it mercy
rather than kindness,
and I think that captures
the idea a little better.
Because this word
we have translated as kindness,
is really to do
with the love of God.
It's the love of God
that won't let us go.
It's the love of God'
that keeps loving us
when we wander off on our own ways,
when we mess things up,
even when we turn our backs
on God.
It's to love
with that sort of love, a love
which shows no partiality
which is willing to forgive
no matter what wrong has been done,
to always leave hope
that things will change,
which treats enemies
as if they are allies.
It's a love
which is painful for the ones who do the loving,
but can be transforming
for those who are loved.

As I look at the TV news clips
of men half naked
being dragged along by guards
at Guantanamo Bay,
I struggle
with what it means
to love mercy.
To love kindness, to love mercy
is hard;
it raises all sorts of uncomfortable questions,
and there are no easy answers.
Because this loving kindness
is not about denying wrong,
but about meeting violence with peace,
and greeting hate and fear
with love.

To do justice;
to love mercy.
And to walk humbly
with our God.
Perhaps that's the hardest
of all.
Because in those few words
we are reminded
of who we are.
Human, fallible,
prone to act
as if we control the world,
though if we're honest,
we don't even control
our own thoughts.
And yet
daring
to journey
beside God.
Looking for God's guidance
in all we do and say.

To do justice, to love kindness
to walk humbly
with our God.
I suspect
that the people who chose the words
which I sang
way back in seventh grade,
had no idea
of their radical character, no idea
that they were instilling in me
a radical call
to run against everything
my culture told me,
to go against the current
with God.
Because these are fighting words, these words
are seditious, they sow dissent.
And they are painful.
Because they don't allow us
to keep our lives as Christians
and our lives as citizens
separate.
They demand
that we live our faith out
in the political realm, and in the social realm,
and in the personal,
without distinction.
And that
is profoundly disturbing.
Because it places us
and our faith
at odds
with the dominant consciousness
of our society,
it places us
and our faith
at odds
with many of the values
of those around us.
It takes courage
and a certain degree of foolishness,
to follow this way.
But it is our calling
as Christians,
because God has chosen
what is foolish in the world
to shame the wise;
God has chosen
what is weak in the world
to shame the strong;
God has chosen
us,
wavering
and uncertain
as we might be,
to be the people of God in this place,
to bring justice
and kindness
and humble faith in his name,
following our savior Christ, the source of our live,
who has become for us wisdom from God,
and righteousness,
and sanctification
and redemption.

What does the Lord require of us?
To do justice
and to love kindness,
and to walk humbly
with our God.

Raewynne J. Whiteley
3 February 2002