Undoing Injustice

June 7, 2020

Isaiah 58:1-11

It is with uneasiness, sadness, and a gut wrenching sensation that I am writing about justice. Such existential feeling of “ethical exasperation," which is about injustice—perpetually present in me, has been fueled and augmented by the events surrounding the horrendous murder of George Floyd in the hands of the Minneapolis police—one of too many, some reported and many unknown to the general public—that the whole world witnessed. It has become increasingly difficult if not impossible to hide behind a “veil of ignorance” what has been taking place for centuries on American soil, of which the history of slavery and lynchings continue to be a reminder of the hateful and savage oppression to death perpetrated on black bodies. And brown bodies’ fate does not go far behind; they have been displaced, killed, pushed over the border (or the border crossed over them), oppressed and reduced to hard, cheap labor, their children put in cages, and they endemically suffer the consequences of the expansionist political and economic policies of the United States beyond its borders.

We keep on witnessing the dehumanization of racism; there are inconvenient, colored, different, threatening bodies that instill fear on those who fool themselves under the pretension of a social construction, a distorted ideology, and fantasy of a superior race. But those bodies disrupt the dream of a “lily white” homogeneous world; they reveal that God created a world of color, diversity, and difference and proclaimed that it is Good. The complexity of social issues that undermine God’s act of creating, sustaining, and blessing life for all creation seems to be overwhelming, especially if we look at the powers behind the policies that perpetuate those issues. The roots of racism intersect with classism, sexism, homophobia, ethnocentrism, white nationalism, xenophobia, poverty, and some even more sophisticated forms of discrimination and oppression, like policies that foster the deleterious effects of climate change and environmental degradation, primarily affecting the poor.

So, in the wake of the violent death of George Floyd and the ensuing protests all over the nation and in some notable cities in the world, many prophets have emerged, and we hear a numerous and diverse chorus of voices that cry for justice. It seems pretty obvious what needs to be done and what appears it will happen; the police officer that pressed with his knee on the back of George Floyd's neck for over eight minutes while his victim was pleading for his life, muttering with a fading voice, “I can’t breathe,” will be charged with second degree murder, and his partners will also receive their punishment for doing nothing to stop the crime. Is justice being served? Just partly. At least, in the current system of retributive justice the culprits will receive their desert—what they deserve for breaking the law--and will suffer the corresponding punishment. The foundation of this system continues to be the lex talionis, the law of Talion, an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. This understanding of justice and the law may appease protesters and victims and yet what was lost, destroyed, and obliterated is irrecoverable.

But I have been challenged to preach about the word justice therefore I am reflecting and writing about it. This challenge could not have been at a more momentous time, when the cry for justice has become painful and violent. I was kindly invited by pastor Jeremy Richards of the Grant Park Church in Portland, OR to participate in his series of sermons on “words,” or key words or symbols or—as I have interpreted his intention—doctrines in the language of our Christian tradition. And such word is justice! But what is justice?

Such is the title of a book edited by philosophers Robert Solomon and Mark Murphy, who in their introduction of this reader of religious and philosophical traditions about justice, confirm a somewhat perpetual state of debate, dissent, and ambiguity in responding to the question, what is justice? Is justice related to what is right or good? Is it about social harmony? Is justice defined by a fair exchange and distribution of goods? Is it about retribution as mentioned above? Does justice mean equality and protects rights and entitlements especially those related to private property? Is it not justice about liberty? What plagues most attempts to articulate definitions both narrow and encompassing seems to be the deeper question of what criteria can provide a framework to understand what is good or right or on what base entitlement can be justified, what is required for social harmony, or in what ways equality can be sustained. Such is the struggle of philosophical and religious-theological traditions.

Therefore, I am taking a narrow path; I am unabashedly assuming—once again—the already old though always fertile hermeneutical approach that looks at the Bible and theology taking the side of the poor and the oppressed of the world. As a Latin American and Latinx theologian, my continuous reflection and attempts to respond ethically to the emergent challenges compels me to apprehend God as the Liberator of what enslave human beings, from the chains of sin both personal and corporate, from economic, racial, and cultural oppression, from all kinds of injustice, and ultimately from death. Liberation is salvation; and reconciliation; and redemption, a renewal and recovery of life for the whole creation. Furthermore, life, Christian life, is praxis; it is doing justice yet, looking at the present circumstances of our country, the arduous task of undoing injustice. With these lenses I center the focus for this theo-ethical reflection on the passage of Isaiah 58: 1-11 to glean some thoughts about justice. However, I want to clarify that while reading the English versions of the text, in which we find two words, righteousness and justice to translate from the original Hebrew words, in general, in Latin and Romance languages these are mostly translated with only one word iustitia, in Spanish Justicia. I believe that righteousness and justice can be used interchangeably though I am inclined to view righteousness somewhat as the virtue of those who practice justice and the latter as the concrete action of doing good and the ensuing outcomes, though I recognize the legal aspects of the word.

The prophetic message of Third Isaiah assertively assumes God’s “voice” in denouncing the injustice that permeates Judah’s post-exilic society and raises a compelling call to the people to undo the wickedness with which they had sadly treated the poor. The historical context betrays the disappointment of failures, such as when the return from the exile was supposed to initiate a new era of vindication after decades of expatriation and suffering, only to continue under the rule of the Persian Empire with very little improvement of the economic conditions of life. Such limited post-exilic social, economic, and religious redemption and the reconstruction of the temple, unfortunately unfold the crude reality of oppression and inequality prevailing, which the prophet calls wickedness. A clear example of the prophetic preaching of Third Isaiah—truly reforming—is found in chapter 56 where he announces that God says “… to the eunuchs who keep my Sabbaths, who choose the things that please me… I will give, in my house and within my walls, a monument and a name better than sons and daughters; I will give them an everlasting name that shall not be cut off” (Isaiah 56:4-5, NRSV). Third Isaiah reveals how undoing injustice requires breaking the structures that perpetuate it.

The prophet is called to “shout out” and denounce the harsh reality of how the sin and transgression of the people affect the social and religious life of the nation and need to be addressed. They are supposedly seeking God and they desire to “know” God's ways as if their spiritual seeking were a deep conviction of the soul, that is, rooted in a relationship of closeness with God as if they understood the intrinsic relation between a life with God and the practice of justice. And the people lift their voices and cry, “Why do we fast, but you don’t see? Why humble ourselves, but you do not notice?” (Isaiah 58:3a). The apparently deep, existential, “spiritual” question receives a simple, practical answer, “Look, you serve your own interest on your fast day, and oppress all your workers” (58:3b). It does not matter how much the religious observance of the people shows their commitment to worship; the enacted exhibition of humbleness by lying in “sackcloth and ashes” can only unveil their foolishness. Such worship is not acceptable to God for the simple reason that without the practice of justice there is no true worship.

God has a clear, concrete, and, again, practical way of declaring God’s welcoming and embracing worship, prayer, and closeness, which is expressed in the form of a rhetorical question that strengthens the emphasis: "… loose the bonds of injustice… undo the thongs of the yoke… let the oppressed go free… break every yoke…”(58:6) Justice here is liberation; the undoing of injustice (wickedness), which is not limited to the benevolent an merciful acts of sharing the bread with the hungry, bringing the homeless “into your house,” and covering the naked, restoring lives, what Walter Brueggemann calls rehabilitative justice. It takes the breaking of the yoke, a metaphor for tyranny, domination, and enslavement that reveals, in my view, that all structures of oppression must be undone, and enslaving systems must be torn down. Doing justice is creating the conditions where all human needs are met and the possibilities of the flourishing of life are sought. Such affirmation does not come without ambiguities; building a new world, a different reality, a realm where the sacredness of life, of life in the collective, of life for every sentient being is a supreme value fall, for many, into the category of utopia. Nevertheless, Third Isaiah foresees the utopia of the God of life; the “year of the Lord’s favor” is in the future, not as the end but as the beginning of true justice, and of what Isaiah of Jerusalem pictured as the “peaceable kingdom."

Unfortunately, the people, according to Third Isaiah, are trapped in their own structures of injustice, believing that their worship brings them to a righteous relationship with God. It is safe to assume that many are honest; others, perhaps simply go through the motions. Yet, the prophet reveals what happens even in the Sabbath; they quarrel, they fight, there is finger pointing —possibly threats, and all related to violence because they “strike with a wicked fist” (58:4a). Violence permeates a post-exilic society perhaps because violence, as Rene Girard asserts, is at the foundation of human culture. This does not mean there is no other option to violence in spite of its endemic and enduring influence. The practice of justice, of doing good in the seemingly limited understanding of taking the side of the poor, the oppressed, and the downtrodden is the starting point to discern what is justice before beginning—or continuing—to engage in philosophical speculation about its meaning. Again, such practice, or action, or praxis, will still betray ambiguities. Yet, meeting human needs for abundant life is a necessary undertaking that begins to reveal what justice is. As Gustavo Gutierrez articulates his thought about the value of life, God is the Creator of life and God does justice because God is Holy; God is the God of life. The dimension of the specific action I am calling for is overwhelming. Yet, if Christians are going to contribute to the transformation of the world a historical praxis for life is the narrow path to follow. Black lives matter!

It is obvious that in this day and age the odds of beginning to do justice in a systemic way, of actively undoing injustice, and deconstructing structures of oppression, may seem overwhelming. As Michel Foucault has figured power, it is a ubiquitous set of relations with no center or poles; power is everywhere. Though there might be nodes of concentration of power, it is primarily diffused and can be exerted in many directions. Limited power can be used creatively and, the exercise of power implies resistance. This has become a buzzword in contemporary thought, in popular and academic circles. The beauty of the notion is that encourages praxis; action that is political, aesthetic, and ethical. Foci of resistance can grow and exercise power in the framework of power relations to deconstruct o transform structures from the inside out. This kind of resistance, however, must be peaceful. The narrow path of the concrete action of meeting human needs, of doing justice, of promoting quality of life for every sentient being, can create a clear conscience in human beings of how necessary it is to act at every level. It will not come without losses; in the protection of life very often life is lost. Nevertheless, justice is about life, redeemed, saved, whether human or otherwise; it is the life of the biosphere, of the whole creation, which is eagerly groaning and waiting for God’s redemption. 

Horacio Da Valle