Rethinking Justice

We have learned a lot from different perspectives on Jesus: feminist theology, creation theology, process theology, liberation theology, narrative theology, postliberal theology, emergent theology. But when the business of the church becomes more about pursuing the “reign of God” than following Jesus, then we start hearing more about justice than justification, and Jesus the Liberator replaces Jesus the Way, the Truth, the Life. He, in fact, is all of those things.

The person who invented the “wiki” software in 1994, Jimmy Wales, confessed that his ambition was very simple: “Imagine a world where every single person is given free access to the sum of all human knowledge. That’s what we’re doing [by creating the Wiki software].” No, that’s what God has already done. Its name is not Wikipedia. His name is Emmanuel.

We find the current linkage of “kingdom” and “justice” problematic for a couple of reasons. First, the language of “justice” is the language of the prosecution. Operation Enduring Freedom, launched in October 2001 to avenge 9/11, was first known by another name: Operation Infinite Justice. The church now seems to have a similar name: Operation Justice.

When did the church become part of the prosecution and not the defense? Is the church reflecting a cultural fixation that has moved from defense attorney (Perry Mason and Matlock) to district attorney (Law & Order or CSI)? Besides, since when did law have to do with justice? Law has to do with legislation, with power, with the politics of empire. Granted, there are times when the church should stand up prophetically and speak to power, saying, “This is wrong because it outrages the image of God in human beings.” Slavery, sex trafficking, genocide, abortion, etc., are some of those issues. But such ministry is not what the church specializes in.

Don’t misunderstand. We are not arguing for a highly privatized, individual, pietistic relationship with Jesus that rules out any social aspects of the gospel. Our relationship with Christ has intense public and social dimensions. But the social and political reform of the world through the powers that be has never been the agenda of the body of Christ. Caesar sought to change the hearts of men by laws and institutions. Jesus changes the hearts of women and men and brings them into a new society, the church, the firstfruits of a new creation.

In the ancient Roman courtroom, the defense was usually seen as the more honorable trade. The early church was deeply ambivalent about whether a Christian could even serve as a judge without putting his soul in peril. A follower of Jesus seated on some elevated throne, dispensing justice, seemed not to be in keeping with Jesus’ injunction “Judge not.” Christianity is rooted in a Passion narrative in which the worst was done not by wicked people, but by good people in cahoots with district attorneys and justice departments. Jesus was executed not by some frenzied mob or rogue justice, but by the best religion, the most powerful state, and the most perfect legal system, functioning as they were each designed to do. We’re not sure that Rousseau was right when he said that the more you think, the less you feel. But we are sure that the more you judge, the less you love.

Second, when “justice” becomes a goal in itself, or God is equated with justice, then we have moved from Christianity to another religion. The most radical Shi’i writers in Iran have been talking in a very secular way about the return of the Madhi (Hidden Imam) signaling the reign of “justice” that an Islamic revolution in an Islamic republic must establish. This “justice” will not come from God, but is essentially a replacement for Him; and their concept of justice uses religious forms and arguments to disguise a monochromic concept of an earthly social, economic, political system in which no one will have authority over anyone else. Everyone will dress alike, have the exact same housing, and be alike in every other way. The Koran professes to be the Word made text. Jesus is the Word made flesh.

Peace on earth, and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled.
—Charles Wesley

Third, the “love of justice” and the “hunger for justice” betray a misreading of Micah 6:8, where we are to love mercy, do justice, and walk humbly. We have too many people loving justice when they should be loving mercy—and doing justice.

You may have heard the story of the woman who went to have her picture taken and said to the photographer, “Try to do me justice.” And the photographer said to his assistant, “What this woman needs is not justice, but mercy.”

We do too. We can live only by mercy, not by justice. In the interplay of law and grace, we count on grace. We don’t follow the law exactly, unless a police officer is watching. We expect grace. And we tread far in the land of grace when we drive, or when we cross the street, or even when we play baseball, softball, and sixman football. It reminds us of the old “mercy rule,” which goes like this: after half-time, if you’re behind by more than 45 points, you can stop the game so the other team isn’t humiliated. The mercy rule is used especially where there is no game clock and play could continue ad nauseam. Unfortunately, it is seldom used in competitive sports beyond the high school level.

We guarantee you one thing: all those today who are clamoring, hungering, and seeking for justice will one day sing a very different tune. When we present ourselves before our Creator and Judge, it will not be “I’ve given my life to the struggle for justice. Now it’s my turn. Give it to me! Give me justice.” Any takers?

“Having faith” is less a knowledge of God’s justice than trust in God’s mercy. Christians want to live just lives, but we are justified not by works; we’re justified by grace. Grace alone saves. The redemption story features the promise that where evil abounds, grace abounds more. God doesn’t judge our lives in terms of our performance or success or length of service. All that matters in the end is the freewheeling generosity and audacious mercy of God. That’s why whenever Jesus metes out justice, it turns out to be an unjust justice, a bending of the letter of the law to the spirit of the law. That’s also why Jesus’ promises in the Beatitudes don’t come with conditions, like “Blest are the hungry who follow me” or “Blest are the faithful who give generously.” There are no strings. The hungry, the poor, the sorrowing, all receive God’s mercy without conditions, without any strings attached.

Christ is crucified by the priests of the purest
religion of his day and by the minions of the justest,
the Roman Law. The fanaticism of the priests is the
fanaticism of all good men, who do not know that
they are not as good as they esteem themselves.
The complacence of Pilate represents the moral
mediocrity of all communities, however just.
—Reinhold Niebuhr