We are living during a time where there are repeated calls for justice. That’s good, but it’s not enough. And I’m worried that the current emotional fervor will be wasted and the opportunity lost for real change. But I’m not just worried about other missing out, I’m worried I’ll miss out too. So, I write this post for myself most of all.
One of the key biblical passages for me when it comes to justice is toward the beginning of the Exodus story.
The Israelites groaned in their slavery and cried out, and their cry for help because of their slavery went up to God. God heard their groaning and he remembered his covenant with Abraham, with Isaac and with Jacob. So God looked on the Israelites and was concerned about them (Ex. 2:23-25, emphasis added).
The Hebrews do one thing — they express their pain, crying out. The text doesn’t say they prayed, though prayer can be implied. All is says is they simply cried out.
There are times when our anguish takes the form of focused prayers to God. But there are times when it is merely a groan or a shriek or a flow of tears or a brick thrown through a window.
Recently, there have been protests against racism in numerous big cities and even small towns throughout the United States and around the world. Many of these have been peaceful and some of them have been violent. All of them are cries, even the violent ones and maybe especially the violent ones.
If any steps toward justice are to be taken, I have to recognize when someone is crying, even if I don’t like the way they’re doing it. And frankly, most of the time I won’t like it. I’ll want to react against it.
However it happens, God has three responses to anguished cries and groans.
1. God hears.
No matter how the cries are expressed, God hears. Likewise, that’s to be my first response to the anguished cries and groans I witness around me.
I’m not to judge. I’m not to talk. I’m not to figure out. I’m not to fix. I’m not to tell people what to do. I’m not to be an expert. I’m not to be anything other than a listener.
Hearing — real hearing — must precede anything else. And hearing takes time. It takes personal silence, internally as well as externally. I need to hear with my eyes as well as my ears. I need a long and patient attentiveness. If I’m not willing to humbly and quietly and unanxiously take in what’s going on in others, everything else will miss the mark.
2. God remembers his covenant.
When the Scriptures say God “remembers,” the implication is not that he’s forgotten. Rather, it’s that he is putting it to the front of his attention. He’s focusing. And when he remembers his covenant, it’s a sign of solidarity. God has bound himself to a particular person or group of people by his covenant.
I love the word solidarity. I first heard of it with the Solidarity movement in Poland in the early 1980s which eventually led to the fall of the Iron Curtain and the Soviet Union’s grip on Eastern Europe.
Solidarity is union. It’s standing together. It’s withness. It’s not just linked hearts, but linked arms, linked lives. It’s a lasting bond.
God’s covenant is God’s solidarity with us. It’s his promise to never leave us or forsake us.
Likewise, when I have truly heard cries arising from injustice and have listened deeply, I take the step of solidarity. I tie myself with those who suffer. I stand with them. This may start with a protest march or sitting in a waiting room or going out for a cup of coffee and a long walk. But it doesn’t end there. It’s not an emotional flash in the pan. It’s launched by emotion, but it’s sustained by making a bond of love.
Recently, it’s been beautiful to see police officers join #BlackLivesMatter marchers, even breaching social distancing protocols to express their solidarity across racial barriers and other perceived barriers between the police and Black community. These are significant, iconic moments. But they mean nothing if they don’t establish lasting relationships. Because, let’s be honest, there have been far too many “tourist” protesters recently, people who showed up thinking that showing up is doing something. These tourists go back to their normal lives, patting themselves on the back but never doing anything more. They were there, but the offered no real, lasting solidarity.
But even then, hearing and solidarity aren’t enough. Substantive action must follow.
3. God is concerned.
Now concern isn’t just an emotion. Concern is the beginning of action. And in the Exodus story, God gets busy. He concerns himself with those he feels concern for.
Meeting with and sending Moses soon follows, as do plagues and sermons and Passover and the leaving of the land and the giving of the Torah. One action spills into another, each cascading and building momentum.
Likewise, those who are concerned with justice will listen, will tie themselves to the abused, and will then get busy on their behalf.
Marching isn’t enough. Posting on social media isn’t enough. Those kinds of things are aspects of solidarity not action. Real action for justice will unfold over years in many ways of many shapes and sizes. It is a long game that few join in.
To my shame, I’m included more among the tourists than among those who do justly as they walk humbly with their God. I know what to do. I know there are but three steps to take, but I look at myself and say, “Pete, do you have the courage and the energy and the patience to do this?” And I’m still waiting for a satisfactory answer.