Correcting Others isn’t Justice

Bible text for this sermon available at https://bible.oremus.org/?ql=503988844

I spend a lot of time on social media.  Probably too much. No, definitely too much. Sure, I do it to keep up with friends and news…partly…sometimes.  But honestly, I mostly start scrolling to unwind, to give my distractible brain a hit of dopamine, to hopefully find something that lights a spark when I’m feeling burnt out elsewhere. 

Last week I made a post about the history and continued harm of poorer neighborhoods, which are disproportionately black and brown neighborhoods, having significantly fewer trees than white affluent neighborhoods and all the destructive consequences that point to and ripple out from this truth. And then, this guy I know commented that yeah, this is historically true but also STILL a problem because of gentrification and overdevelopment. Well…I was not in the mood to have a man take credit for repeating my own claims back to me in the tone of “well, actually…”

So I quipped back to set things straight and make a point that felt like one small act of resistance for me, one giant leap against misogyny everywhere. Right? RIGHT?

Then why is it still gnawing at me a week later? I don’t think it’s just because confrontation is difficult and I, as a woman, have been trained to avoid it at all costs, and I over-analyze any situation where someone may not like me. I definitely believe in asserting my own dignity, and holding one another accountable. I think it’s unsettling me because as I reflect on it, I know that in this particularly instance…

I went into that digital space looking to score points over and above creating a more-just community. 

I fall into this same thing, get drawn into this awful habit, when I see posts where I know the comment section is going to be juicy.  And even if I’m not putting my own words in the mix, I’m getting puffed up watching people I consider to be “my team” win the rhetorical cage match while the vulnerable people it claims to defend receive little, if any, tangible benefit. What may have started or been intended as a practice of meaning, has become a means to prove myself as better or more devout to the cause than someone else. It has become a way not to seek understanding but to correct, to issue our own justice.

More and more is coming to light about how social media companies profit from putting inflammatory content in front of our faces, but we are also all too eager to feed the frenzy. It would be easy for me to point the finger at the algorithm or big bad corporations, and they definitely deserve a share, but I also contribute. Perhaps the most toxic thing about it is how righteous I think I am when I’m doing it, how noble I appear to myself as I do this grand work.

Perhaps the most toxic thing about it is that at times, I’m seeking evil while convincing myself that I’m seeking good.

So I wonder…What do we mean when we say we want justice? God’s justice? When we say we long for the day when God’s ways come in full to align the earth with God’s promises of dignity and love spread wide? What do we imagine and understand that to mean? To look like?

Do we mean retribution for me? Or relief for the world where all will finally have what they need? Do we long for God’s judgement…on everyone else but us? Scoring “gotcha” points over others? Somehow we drifted downstream and more often seek a kind of warfare with our neighbors over the welfare of the world.

The prophet Joel echoes this same critique, one common among the prophets.  The people of God may well be keeping the traditions and even the doctrines of “proper” worship, but they ignore and exploit the poor and vulnerable in their communities. They know how to ring the bells and sing the songs, but the sound is hollow because the meaning behind them is not reflected in their lives and actions through the care of others. Their expression of faith has become disconnected from the root of who and how God is, so even the things that are supposed to be holy feel only like noise. And we end up in the same boat when we think that describes everyone else but us, because the way we do it isn’t as obvious.

This hollow experience of worship isn’t the same as those times when we’re just not feeling it, when we’re going through the motions but long for God to be present. What Joel is talking about is when we know something big is off. And not just off, but absolutely counter to what it should be, actively opposite of what God intended - that’s a different kind of emptiness. 

The prophet exposes the religious and social abuses that result from focusing on better belief and/or better practice, while missing the point of God’s creating a better world. 

I think that disconnect is why so many of us feed so sad and tired these days. We know something really big is off, isn’t the way it’s supposed to be, but we keep trying to act like everything is fine and it’s not. We might even see worship, or hope for worship to be a means of escape, or some kind of supernatural cure-all for this deep rift, but that too will leave us unsatisfied. Because that’s never what worship or a life of faith was intended to be. 

Yes, the bells and songs and candles and traditions and teachings and ritual and silence…all of that can and should be a balm for our souls, but also for our world. It cannot be only a means to soothe ourselves, or set ourselves as superior…it must also be that which gives us strength for the journey, to navigate these waters we are created and called to be a part of. 

What in our rhythms of gathering connects you, re-connects you, 

with a current of meaning and care?

How does it shape you beyond these moments?

The moments where we are re-aligned with God’s ways, what Joel talks about as the day of God’s judgement, will not always feel like sunshine and rainbows.  Have you ever seen an orthopedic surgeon reset a bone out of joint? I haven’t experienced it myself, but it looks awfully painful, even more painful than being out of place. But it’s ultimately essential to avoid continued harm.

When I realize that my Spirit is out of joint and I have acted or participated in ways that ignore or harm others, it stings. Sometimes it even feels like I’m being attacked. Sometimes I reflect on scripture like this and think I am tagged in this picture and I do not like it. But I find that these moments also feel like a break-through. Like I can finally see the shell for what it is and loosen my grip a bit because I can remember there’s something bigger beyond it. 

Joel asks why the people would say they desire such a day of God? Don’t you know it won’t be all pleasantries? This advent, this oncoming of God’s promises, like any birth, will also involve an uncomfortable stretching?

Justice often feels like a slow trickle at best. Our hearts are heavy as we recall all the injustice that surrounds us. We hope but are afraid of what justice will or won’t look like in our courts for Ahmaud Arbery, Kyle Rittenhouse, and Unite the Right’s deadly hateful rally. We hear global leaders talking about Climate Change and the achingly slow progress toward healing and wonder if it is even possible. 

But Joel speaks of God’s justice rolling down like mighty water. I thought of this verse, this image, while standing beside the massive waterfalls at Yosemite National Park this summer. The roar of this water coming down with such force, crashing over the world…

I had never experienced mighty water like this before.

It was so powerful. I stared, realizing that this water could immediately snap a whole tree trunk in two. And I stood, noticing the thick spray of mist surrounding me, water so powerful is filled the air, bringing nurturing moisture to the cliff-sides where new things could grow. 

This water is both dangerous and life-giving.

What does God means when she speaks of justice? 

It seems to be an expansive, all-encompassing, communal, shared justice that is on the move and can not ultimately be stopped. It is communal not in the sense that someone else will do it for us, but that every little drop we put into the bucket matters and multiplies and is bigger than our own benefit. It is the rising tide that crashes and carries us together. God’s justice is beyond our individual puffery and ego, our performances and the show of goodness we try to put on, so we can go ahead and take the mask off. God’s justice is ever-flowing, present even in dry seasons. Even now. When Christ died on the cross and they pierced his side, this living water spilled out. Even through death, God and God’s justice continue to flow. Now, in this season of lengthening darkness, the world is being set aright – from every smallest drop of care as it gathers and grows, and sweeps us up into the movement of ripples and waves.  Amen.