Justice Denied? Micah 6: 1 - 8

Nearly one year ago, on a bright and sunny April afternoon, our home was robbed. My wife and I walked through the house, afraid of each discovery of something missing that we had not noticed before. The sight of the broken kitchen door, the confused look on the face of our cat who had just become a resident of our home the week before, the empty spaces where computers and radios had been just that morning, the vacant dresser-top where the wedding bands for our daughter's upcoming wedding had rested - it was almost too much to take in. Several weeks later the culprits were caught while robbing another home in the area. None of our possessions were recovered, but we had the chance to come face to face with our adversaries recently. Over a year after their crime spree began, the two men responsible for the string of robberies appeared in court for a preliminary hearing to determine if they should be bound over for trial. They were made to sit and listen as each of us who had been robbed gave testimony as to how we discovered the robberies and recounted what had been taken. I discovered that some individuals lost much more than we did, some of them also experiencing the death of spouses immediately before, or after, the burglaries. The defense attorneys each asked me if I had ever seen his client before. I looked each middle-aged man in the eyes, and one of them began to smile at me, and then, thinking better, perhaps, he dropped his gaze. No, I had never seen either one of them before that day in court. After the hearing, the men were bound over for jury trial, unless they plead out first.
While reflecting on this difficult year, my eyes came across the very familiar and beloved passage from the prophet Micah. "What does the Lord require of you, but to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God?" If one reads the verses that come before this final passage, one understands that Micah was not offering a harmless platitude here. His meaning is clear: God wants justice, not worship. God wants justice, not oppression. God wants us to love seriously, which is fair to the meaning of hesed, the elusive word in the Hebrew Scriptures that may be translated as steadfast love. If one loves seriously, justice will be served. Justice will be real when it is achieved for those for whom justice has always been denied. Looking into the eyes of our burglars, I could not help but try to imagine each as a young child, when he was innocent and looked at each day with wonder. What happened to change them? Was this crime spree a way of life, a lark, an act of desperation? Will the sentence meted out result in justice? I have no doubt that, for those of us who were robbed, there will be some sense of satisfaction and closure. But, for me, it will be a troubled peace, to be sure. Our penal system will not rehabilitate these men, but make them harder and more determined to be more careful next time. Our system of justice in this country is predicated on punishment, not reform. We will not "do justice" to them, for to do so would mean to forgive each man and work with him so that he will have a better and more productive and honest life in the future. Instead, as individuals, we will trust the system to deal with each man. We will worship, we will try to love others, and we will move on. And justice, I am afraid, will not be served. At least, not in the way Micah had envisioned.

Where is God?

Whenever a tragedy occurs, it is inevitable among people of faith that the question will arise, "Where is God?" I would think that those who are skeptical of religion in general would also be asking that question right about now.Most of the victims of the shooting in Tuscon were active in their communities of faith. Should that not offer some form of protection? Should we just say to the families of those who were killed, "Well, God loves you." Even worse, folks will utter the blasphemous phrase, "It was God's will."
We have a need to make sense of tragedy. That is a normal response. Trouble is, sometimes we cannot make sense of tragedy, no matter what we say, or think, or do. and the shootings in Tuscon will never make sense to the families of those who died, or were injured. So, what can people of faith say at such a time? May I suggest that we take the example of Job's friends during the first week of his suffering. They sat in silence while he wailed and protested his innocence. When people are suffering and asking why something happened, do we think that they really want an answer? Does explaining the mental illness of the shooter really help make the event more palatable for the families and victims who survive? Will they be mollified by us explaining the ridiculous gun registration laws in Arizona? Does standing up and defending God to them make any sense? I would say no, it does not. God does not need us to act as defense attorneys. Job's friends ceased to be friends when they began to speak as to the reasons for his suffering. When tragedy occurs, what is needed is a love and silence that envelopes the suffering to let them know that they are not alone. The crazies from Westboro Baptist church have announced that they will picket the funerals of the victims of the shootings. Citizens in Tuscon have responded by planning an "angel action" whereby the families and attendees at the funerals will be shielded from the protesters by a phalanx of persons dressed in angels wings that are large enough to abscond the view of the protesters. Silent, prayerful presence is what they will offer. And that may be exactly what the families need right now, as they try to formulate their own questions. Let us be vigilant, prayerful and in awe of the reality that God will not abandon those who suffer, and never has. That does not mean that all questions are answered. After all, Job never did get answers to his questions or his protests of innocence. What he got, instead, was God. Could he have asked for more? Can we?