2 Timothy 3.14 - 4.5; Luke 18. 1-8
The Christian imagination has a deeply paradoxical vision of the world when it comes to the subject of justice.
On the one hand, the gospel calls for a radical commitment to this world as the object of God’s infinite love. The earth is the focus of his redeeming work, the place where, at the end of this age, the kingdom will be revealed in all of its fullness, and Christ will reign as the Lord of love forever.
Therefore, Jesus calls his followers to take up the cause of justice with urgency and compassion. We are to imitate our Lord, who healed the sick, lifted up the lowly, set the captives free, and preached good news to the poor. And so, throughout the ages, the Church has been at the forefront in the provision of healthcare and education, as it is also, in our own day, at the forefront in the running of foodbanks, and other similar initiatives in our communities.
And yet, the Christian vision has a certain ambivalence about the world, insofar as it has fallen
from its original goodness. In the many denials of justice and betrayals of love that we see in the chances and changes of this fleeting world, we are to discern, not simply a series of unfortunate events – which might have been avoided, if only people could learn to be a bit more decent – but rather, a certain inevitability and predictability, by which the world repeatedly shows itself to be not quite what it should be.
This is why, for Jesus, the Roman Empire was not the target that many wanted it to be for anyone who would lay claim to the title of Messiah. In other words, Christ came not to bring about a regime change, where one political order might replace another, as if justice could be established upon the earth by progressively making things better and better, little by little.
Instead, the Empire ought to be seen as just one symptom, the latest manifestation, of a much more fundamental disease, which continues to rear its ugly head throughout human history. I am talking, of course, about the problem of sin.
As St Paul describes it so insightfully, in the seventh chapter of his epistle to the Romans, we all know that God’s holy ways are spiritual and good, but we find that we do not do the good that we want to do, but instead the very things that we hate. And so, as Paul puts it, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me, for we are sold into slavery under sin, so that there is a war within ourselves.
Therefore, the Christian vision of the world is not surprised when justice is repeatedly and infuriatingly denied, over and over again. And so, it does not aim at a political revolution within the immanent processes of world history, as if everything could be made a bit better with a nice smattering of liberal democracy.
But this is not fatalism. For the paradoxical nature of our faith declares something much better, something much more captivating. It declares the promise of a new world, a different kind of kingdom. Since Christ’s defeat of the powers of sin and death, this kingdom is already on the horizon of world history, breaking into the present in glimpses, as the first rays of sunlight begin to rise at dawn. But it’s full arrival will be a sudden one. It will be a gift, and not something of our own making.
And what is more, we are not simply to sit around, and to tell people to patiently wait for this future age. No. The work for justice in the present age is urgent, because it is a sign and foretaste of God’s new world which is to come.
This is the dynamic that is at the heart of our readings this morning.
As St Luke explains, Jesus gives the Parable of the Unjust Judge so that his disciples may not lose heart, but pray always. In this part of the gospel, Jesus is preparing the twelve for his departure, and so he begins to speak to them about his return at the end of the age.
As he begins to prepare their hearts for the hope and faith that will be expected of them, it is crucial to understand that the unjust judge is certainly not presented as a model. This man is only moved to grant justice because he is worn out by the persistent supplications of the widow. There is no sense at all that Jesus is trying to say that, if his disciples pray persistently enough, then God will be worn down, change his mind, and grant them justice. That is not how prayer works, and that is not how God works.
We do not pray in order to change God. We pray so that we might be changed.
But will God grant justice? Does he delay in sending help? We might look around at the world and think that we really do not see the justice that we desire. But this is not because we haven’t been persistent enough in order to change God’s mind.
We can often think that our prayer is about asking God to make lots of tweaks to this world, to make it better and better, as if the kingdom can come through a gradual process of improvement.
Instead, Christ teaches in the gospel this morning, God will certainly grant justice, and quickly, but – and here’s the nub of the matter – when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?
I think our Lord is trying to assure his disciples that, when God acts, it will be swift and sudden, and not because he has been worn out by our persistent pleading, and has finally given in to our demands. Instead, the day of justice will come when, in his infinite wisdom and mercy, the Father chooses to send Christ to the earth in glory to establish his kingdom. But when he does, will he find faith? Will we have lived in the meantime as those who have pointed to this glorious future age?
And so, we are to be persistent in prayer so that we can constantly come back into contact with the God of this promise. We are not to lose heart. We must keep faith, keep hope, be patient, and trust that God’s kingdom will come. And part of our keeping faith is our working for justice now, as signs of the coming kingdom. As St Paul says, ‘Be persistent whether the time is favourable or unfavourable’.
It might be tempting to say that we’re living through a time of particular political turbulence and uncertainty. But aren’t we always? Our age, like all, has its own injustices.
On the one hand, we ought not to be surprised by this. We certainly should not lose heart, and think that God has abandoned the world. God’s promises of redemption for all things are unshakeable, and if our prayer aims at anything, then it aims at a deeper sense of the trustworthiness of that divine promise.
On the other hand, we must work for justice in the present – no matter on how small a scale – not because the job of changing the world rests upon humanity’s shoulders, but because, by doing so, we are telling a better story than any other on offer in the world, about the ultimate destiny of all things.