Faith, Justice, and Hands

Luke 18: 1 – 8

I don't have many opportunities to watch movies much these days, but I made some time recently to watch “Hotel Rwanda.” Several people had recommended this particular movie to me, and in my days at Centre College I overheard the conversation of a student, from Rwanda, who had experienced and survived the genocidal war that killed hundreds of thousands of men, women, and children. So, being ignorant of that conflict, I thought this movie might provide a little more than a night's worth of entertainment; it did.

There was one specific moment in the movie when I felt a flood of emotions cascading upon me: anger, frustration, shame, fear, and yet, through it all, hope.

It was a moment when the main character, played by Don Cheadle, thanks a television journalist for shooting footage of the atrocities afflicting the Rwandan people; images recording piles of bodies, machete massacres, and bloodied children:

Paul Rusesabagina: I am glad that you have shot this footage and that the world will see it. It is the only way we have a chance that people might intervene.
Jack: Yeah and if no one intervenes, is it still a good thing to show?
Paul Rusesabagina: How can they not intervene when they witness such atrocities?
Jack: I think if people see this footage they'll say, "oh my God that's horrible," and then go on eating their dinners.

I've been that person, casually acknowledging the injustices, brutalities, and afflictions that fill the world around me. I've been that person. I've ignored the calls for help and the shouts for mercy. I've been that person who went on eating dinner, satisfied and comfortable with my life, paying little to no attention toward the people who are suffering around me. I've been that person. Maybe, this morning, you have been that person too.

Or, maybe, you have been a person afflicted and crying out for help. Maybe you have been the recipient of the injustice in our world and cried out for God's mercy. This morning, I want to suggest that our scripture speaks both to the “comfortable” and the “uncomfortable”; to the afflicted and to those who can meet their cry for help. And through this I ask that we look for a dimension of our faith we may have forgotten, lost, or not yet discovered.

In our scripture today Jesus offers us a parable, which has already been contextualized for us: “Then Jesus told them a parable about their need to pray always and not lose heart.” From the very beginning we are given a lens by which to understand this story. It is a way to see ourselves, to find encouragement, and to embrace hope.

Jesus continues with a parable about a marginalized member of society: a widow. With no husband for support and no right to inherit the husband's estate, widows were vulnerable, needy members of society. And it is no coincidence that Luke's gospel continuously references the plight and circumstances of widows, or that the early church ministered specifically to widows. I suggest to you this morning that our widow stands in place of the marginalized, the vulnerable, the needy, the forgotten members of our society, of any society.

In our parable, Jesus narrates the endless requests of a widow demanding justice from a judge. Our judge had no reverence for God, nor any respect for people (v. 2). This judge, characterized as anything but impartial, does not grant the request of the widow. Maybe he was waiting for a bribe. Maybe he was wanting to consider the power and status of the unnamed opponent. Regardless, this judge would not hear her cry for justice. And yet, our widow persists. She does not give up, she does not cease. And, finally, the unjust judge relents (v. 5). The unjust judge who eventually hears the cry of justice and submits to it is immediately contrasted with God: the swift benefactor of justice (v.8). We are made aware that God, unlike the unjust judge, acts quickly and establishes justice for the afflicted. Seen in light of verse 1 of Luke's 18th chapter, we recognize the importance of continual, ceaseless prayer, ever-hopeful for the justice of God.

And yet, this is not the whole story; it is not a simple reminder for the afflicted to pray, for the tormented to cry out to God. The final words of our parable this morning ask us a poignant question: “when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?” Well, would he? Would the Son of Man find a faith where the afflicted take hope in God's justice and never stop crying out in prayer? Would the Son of Man find a faith which seeks out those prayers, which listens to the voices crying out?

In our parable this morning, I want to suggest that many of us may have been the widow, marginalized and afflicted, tormented and forgotten. But I also want to suggest that we are the justice of God, the physical hands of God's divine justice liberating the oppressed, welcoming the marginalized, comforting the afflicted, remembering the forgotten.

Our parable this morning speaks to the “comfortable” because it calls us out of our comfort toward action; toward service; specifically, toward justice.

I'm reminded of Chapter 8 verse 6 of Micah which asks: “And what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” (6:8)

Our parable this morning speaks to the “uncomfortable” because it reminds us to be persistent in our prayer, persistent in our crying out, persistent in our hope for the justice of God and God's comforting presence.

Our parable this morning speaks to us all because it not only encourages us to be persistent in our prayers and seek after God's comfort in our lives, but it also informs our faith. It informs our faith of the uncomfortable call to live out God's justice, to be the hands of God's justice.

I'm reminded of the hands of a southern farmer who was a tireless member of my last congregation. He was a man whose hands were rugged and tough, dirtied and soiled. He was a man whose hands told a story about his life; a man whose hands revealed his hard-working, laborsome efforts to provide food for his family, help for his neighbors, and services for his church. A man whose hands never quit.

When the Son of Man returns will he find faith on earth? I believe he will. Because I believe in the “hands of working people”... in the crusted, scarred, filthy, calloused hands of God's people, God's servants. I believe in your hands, I believe in my hands. And although our hands may not be perfect, I believe our hands can be God's justice.

I hope that when we see the atrocities of the world around us, that we will not haphazardly take note of yet another “terrible thing” and then, turning our back, go on with dinner, go on with our comfortable lives. I hope that tragedy effects us. That God's justice infects us. To borrow a phrase from David Vargas, the Disciple's President of the Department of Overseas Ministry, I hope that we are “contaminated with a passion” for God's mission, purpose and justice in our immediate world, and the world at large. I must admit that in doing this, there is not one “cookie-cutter” answer. We have the freedom to live out our passion, our “infection”, our “contamination” creatively, faithfully, uniquely. We can find a ministry in this church, in the regional church, or in the national church. Or, we can search for a ministry outside this church.

But I encourage you to find the place where your passion and God's passion converge. I believe that in doing this, in becoming and being the hands of God to the world around us, that we also receive God's healing hands upon our own lives.

I think the lyrics of the following song speak profoundly (hold paper):

I guess silence is not an option at this stage
I've been comfortable too long now, turn the page
I see shadows all around meBut to me it's proof of Your light

Show yourself to me, so I can show you to them
Give me what it takes to let me go
There's a world out there that's dyin'

Father please forgive them
For they know not what they do
Father won't You show me how
To have working man hands

You said if you love me you'll obey me, I've wondered why
You gave Your life for those around me, so should I
God forbid that I should stand before
YouOn that day, with unblemished hands

O God...
May our hands be Your hands of Justice.
May our hands be clasped in ceaseless prayer.
Amen.