• Home
• Events
  • Google Calendar
  • Subscribe
• Cohorts
  • Find a Cohort
  • Contact Cohort Support
  • Cohort Blogs
• Groups
• About
  • FAQs
  • Values and Practices
  • Support
  • Leadership
  • Emergent Worldwide
  • Publishing Partners
• • weblog
  • podcast
  • press kit
  • donate
  • Feeds (RSS)

The Uncertainty of Justice

Posted Sep 2, 05:06 PM | 6 comments | by Editor | Link

By Greg Newton:

Recognizing injustice is often much easier than learning to act justly. If our postmodern sensibilities led us to question the anemic gospel of personal salvation, helping us rediscover the importance of pursuing justice in the world, then they should also call for the rigorous examination of our own attempts at practicing justice!

As we have been suspect of our imaginations of Jesus, of unquestioned readings of scripture, or of claims that anyone has domesticated the absolutes, we cannot afford to be certain of what it means for there to be justice. Epistemological humility is as necessary in our practice of justice as it is in our doctrinal formulations.

Today as I write, in the children’s classroom across from my office my friend is dying. Actually, we all are, but he knows it in a way most of us do not. In his case, the way to respond is easy to determine, and I feel somewhat certain about how to do what is just.

He showed up at our building a few months ago, destitute, having heard that perhaps we would help. A perfect storm of financial problems had left him without a home, car, and little income from selling mortgage insurance. He had no family to turn to for help, so he moved temporarily into one of the classrooms in this building we rent. Within a few weeks he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, and we all realized that he would not be “getting back on his feet” as we had once thought.

To act justly in this situation is easy even though, in this case, my friend is not the victim of injustice or oppression. To care and help is the right action, and we have gained a friend and he a family of believers. But what is just is not always so easy to discern even when an injustice is obvious.

When I was living in East Africa I saw daily the plight of desperate people, and plenty of injustice, both systemic and personal. With some of these situations the way to be concerned for justice was fairly obvious. But let me demonstrate the complexity of seeking to act justly with a couple less clear situations.

When the rains were light, food was scarce. Some of this shortage was due to people planting cash crops rather than sufficient food crops, and people trying to grow crops that require more water rather than keeping a field of cassava, which was the traditional hedge against poor rainfall. When food was in short supply, an influx of donated “free” food would mean that the farmers who planned well, planted smart, and diversified their fields, saw prices plummet. Responsible farming became pointless.

Discouraged, many farmers would choose to gamble on planting more cotton for profit rather than plenty of food for their families, assuming that free food would be given if yields were low. Giving food often solved an immediate need but had unintended negative results, making the situation worse in the future. Was donating food a just response?

Consider the impact of a medical mission trip that comes into an area to offer free medicine and treatment. What about those who make a living through providing that same care? The medical mission may severely hurt those who provide those same services on a regular basis. If a medical mission provides care not available locally, that is one thing, but, when it replicates for free the care provided by local people, it may actually destroy the meager medical services the people depend on regularly.

Certainly I am not suggesting that we should not feed the hungry or care for the sick. I do believe that we must question thoroughly our attempts to do what is just. The need or injustice may be obvious, but sometimes the just response may be difficult to find. When we choose how we intend to pursue justice in a situation, our epistemological humility ought to invite rigorous deconstruction of our actions for the sake of justice itself. We should recognize the limits of our attempts to practice justice, and readily admit that our particular responses are imperfect. As we are suspect of anyone who claims theological finality, we should not make a similar claim about our pursuit of justice.

The youth of our congregation have spent the summer thinking about matters of social justice. One of the matters they looked at had to do about the clothes they wear. We know the injustice of sweatshops and the exploitation of workers in other countries, but what is the response that embodies justice? What would those workers ask us to do? I can think of a variety of ways to respond which seek justice, but no response is justice itself. There are no easy answers, only imperfect ones.

Derrida would warn us, I believe, that though justice cannot be deconstructed, any attempt toward justice can be deconstructed. Since we know not to confuse our ideas of God with God, we know our actions toward justice will never be justice itself. The same humility that chastens our theological conclusions and invites questions, needs to chasten our practice of social justice and welcome critique.

Photo by Mike Todd

---

Greg Newton and his wife, Marsha, have two children. They were missionaries in Tanzania among the Sukuma people, and now minister with Disciples’ Fellowship in Birmingham, AL.

Bookmark this article using Remarkable!