~ Let Justice Roll ~
I have to say that I am really proud and
grateful to be standing here tonight.
And by “here” I don’t just mean up here at this podium, with the
opportunity of sharing some thoughts with you all. By “here” I mean here – with all of you, among all of you, a part of this incredible
gathering. Thirty-one different faith
communities have sent hundreds of different people to do one thing – to work
together to do justice.
I’m new to Charlottesville. My family and I moved here this summer when
I began serving the Thomas Jefferson Memorial Church – Unitarian
Universalist. I have to say that one of
the things that drew me to TJMC was its involvement in IMPACT. Let me tell you, they did a real good job of
representing this relationship prominently in the packet of materials they sent
to prospective clergy people. I read
everything they had to say. I followed
up by reading the IMPACT web site. And
that led me to the DART Network site. I
suppose I should have been paying more attention to the congregation’s own
budget and history, but I was fascinated by this stuff. Drawn to it.
It’s not too hard for a congregation to
be involved in social action. Lots of
congregations of all kinds would say that they’re interested in it. They have a Social Action Committee. Maybe there’s a Director of Social Justice
Ministries. Maybe checks get written to
good causes. Maybe some folks volunteer
to bring food to the Food Bank once in a while.
Oh, it’s not too hard at all for a congregation to be involved in social
action.
But for a congregation to be involved
with others who are involved in social action?
To intentionally seek out other congregations, other communities – and
not just others who are like us but also others who are not like us? And then to
join with these others – even those who
are not like us – not simply to work toward those issues that we’re most
excited about getting involved with but to try to determine the issue which
actually is most pressing for our
entire community? Wow.
No wonder I feel proud to be standing
here tonight. Protestants of so many
stripes, Roman Catholics, Jews, Unitarian Universalists, Muslims – we’ve come
together to try to do something that will benefit not only our own communities
but, more importantly, the wider Charlottesville - Albemarle County community. That’s something to be proud of.
Are you proud of being here
tonight?
¿Se siente orgulloso de estar aquí esta noche?
I’m grateful, too, because this
congregation based community organization, this CBCO, isn’t just one more
opportunity for a bunch of well-meaning people to get together and moan about
everything that’s wrong “out there” and then wring our hands because “they”
aren’t listening to all of our good ideas.
No!
In the six years since its inception here in Charlottesville, IMPACT has
. . . well . . . had an impact. Things
are different because of gatherings like this.
There have been substantive changes because of this work; and there are
no doubt more to come. Although
Charlottesville has recently been described as the #1 city to live in in the
country -- #4 for book lovers! – and has been called “the healthiest place to
live” and “the number one city for retirement,” we all know that there’s still work
to do here. Lots of it. We all know that this can be a tough place to
live if you’re African American, or a refugee, or have a mental illness, or are
poor. We know that it’s not all like the
glossy magazines portray it.
So let me not hold up the work we’re
here to do much longer. I would like to
share one thing with you, though, an observation I made while working on a
sermon for a congregation I was once serving up in Maine. The text for the morning was the well-known
passage from the Hebrew Scriptures, the book of Amos, Chapter 5, verse twenty-four: “
¡Pero corra el
juicio como un río, la justicia como un torrente inagotable!” “But let justice roll on like a river,
righteousness like a never-failing stream!”
I can’t tell you how many sermons I’ve
heard that used this as a starting place.
Can’t tell you, even, how many sermons I’ve preached that have used this as a starting place. And they all end up at pretty much the same destination
– encouraging the congregation and the individuals that make it up to get more active
in working for social justice.
Oh, most of them have had a particular
focus – a new project the congregation’s taking on, or an old one that appears
to be running out of steam – but the general outlines are usually the
same. Amos is telling us to get out
there and get busy doing justice in the world.
As a friend of mine likes to say, “Am I preaching to the choir? Sure I’m preaching to the choir. And what I’m preaching is, get out of your
chairs and sing!” ¡Salir de sus sillas y cantar!
Like I said, I’ve preached that sermon
myself. More than once. Every choir needs a little encouraging now
and then. But this one time I had an
honest-to-goodness revelation! Suddenly
I didn’t hear Amos telling us to get out and work building justice in the
land. I didn’t read those words as an
encouragement to put more energy and more commitment into some social justice
project or other.
But let
justice roll on . . . Pero corra el
juicio . . .
Suddenly I saw this river – fast and
free-flowing. Almost at flood
stage. Unstoppable. A seething torrent. Roiling.
White water of a class V or VI. A
get-out-of-the-way-because-I’m-comin’-through-and-nothing’s-gonna-stop-me-now
kind of river. You get the picture?
This is the river of justice, rolling on
like a never-failing stream. Flowing
on. Rich, and full, and life-giving. A little dangerous too, maybe, but
powerful. And beautiful. Awe-inspiring.
Except that it’s not flowing. It’s dammed up. I don’t know how. Maybe some beavers got to it. Or it was buried during a mountaintop
removal. Or some folks built a dam
thinking that it could generate power for I don’t know what. Or maybe people got to littering and stopped
it up, and fouled it up, and filled it up so full of sludge and slime that now
that river’s all backed up. I don’t know
how it happened; I just know that it happened.
That mighty river, that never-failing stream, has been clogged up and it
just isn’t flowing anywhere like it used to.
Oh, maybe a trickle here and there, but nothing like it’s supposed to be
– swollen with spring melt and flowing free.
I got this picture and suddenly realized
that Amos wasn’t telling us to go out and make a river of justice. He wasn’t telling us to construct a concrete
culvert and to start pumping water into it.
Not at all! The river’s already here,
he’s telling us – we just got to get out and let it flow!
That’s the message I want to share with
you tonight, my new friends. Justice,
righteousness . . . we aren’t responsible for going out and making them. Creating them. Building them. Developing them. They’re already here. All we have to do is clean out the muck, get
out the gunk, jettison the junk that’s been damming up the works for far too
long. That’s
what our job is.
I want to remind each of us and us all
that we’re not responsible for it all.
The river can take care of itself, thank you very much, and if given
half a chance it can wash away any obstacle.
To mix my metaphors, we don’t have to reinvent the wheel. We just have to get it rolling. And believe me, that’s hard enough. We have to clear away all of those things
that are damming up the works – the things that have gotten there by accident,
the things we’ve put there on purpose, the things that some people think make
life better and more enjoyable for them (even while there are people dying of
thirst just a few feet downstream). Our
job is to do what needs to be done to let
justice roll.
Nothing more. And, of course, nothing less.
¿Es una buena noticia? Is this Good News?
Let the people say, “Amen.”
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3 comments:
Amen, Erik, amen!
I'm so glad you gave us all a new perspective on the "river of justice." Let it flow!
Just watched "Pray the devil back to hell" from PBS's Women, War & Peace series and I saw that vision of an unstoppable river of justice made real by the women of Liberia.
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