Reading Francis

It’s not a buffet.

The readings for the 22nd Sunday of Ordinary Time (which is this Sunday, Sept. 1) all point to what it means to be just, but they’re each a little more complicated than they might appear.

The Old Testament is from the Book of Deuteronomy, as Moses talks up God’s Law for Israel, telling the people that, if they listen to and keep the instructions God has for them, all the other nations will respect them, for two reasons: the people who follow this law will be wise and intelligent, and the existence of these instructions will point to their relationship with God. “For what great nation is there that has gods so close to it as the LORD, our God, is to us whenever we call upon him? Or what great nation has statutes and decrees that are as just as this whole law which I am setting before you today?” So justice lies in wise and complete laws, but also in the closeness of God.

Psalm 15 also ties justice to relationship: “The one who does justice will live in the presence of the LORD” is the response. A good list follows of to-dos and to-don’ts: think the truth, don’t slander, don’t harm your fellow person or fight the neighbors, don’t be a loan shark or take bribes.

I have mentioned James before, but this one line stands out: “Religion that is pure and undefiled before God and the Father is this: to care for orphans and widows in their affliction and to keep oneself unstained by the world.” (James 1:27). 

Mark 7 has Jesus taking it to the Pharisees for obsessing about the wrong things. In Deuteronomy, Moses talks about not adding or subtracting from the Law, and in Mark, Jesus accuses the Pharisees of doing both, adding a lot of hand hygiene and manners while subtracting, apparently, everything else. (He’s less explicit about the subtracting, though Matthew’s gospel elaborates in a string of “woe to you, Pharisees” claims in Matthew 23, which happen to have been in this week’s daily mass lineup.) Jesus’ punchline is that the stuff that sinks us doesn’t come from dirty hands but dirty hearts: “From within people, from their hearts, come evil thoughts, unchastity, theft, murder, adultery, greed, malice, deceit, licentiousness, envy, blasphemy, arrogance, folly.”

When confronted by a list of requirements that are all, as the word implies, required, a friend of mine likes to say “It’s not a buffet.” Anyone who has heard the term “cafeteria Catholic” knows what he means: we don’t get to pick the things we like and leave on the serving line those that we’d rather not have. 

So it seems to be with acting justly. The rules are important, and so are the relationships. It’s both/and, not either/or.

We tend to fall down on one side or the other when it comes to thinking about whether rules or relationships are central to justice. (If you’d like a deeper dive on that, may I suggest the Broadway classic Les Miserables?) And if we’re really honest, the rules folks like to pick and choose which ones really count, while the relationships folks do the same.

But it’s not a buffet.

In Deuteronomy, the rules are a sign of the relationship with God.

In the Psalm, you see justice in the way you relate to other people.

In James, while “unstained by the world” sounds like the result of following the Law, caring for the most marginalized (the widow and orphan) is pure religion because it ties love for God with love for the weakest among us.

And the Gospel list, when you look at it, is a catalog of ways we can break relationship with each other. We can all get behind being anti-murder, I hope, but some of the other stuff (greed and envy? Arrogance and slander? Unchastity and folly?) might make us squirm a little.

A lot of folks write off Christianity (and religion in general) because it fixates on enforcing a few rules and calling it justice. Maybe that’s fair, maybe it’s not. But it’s not a buffet. 

Maybe this week we could take time to reflect on how we could better testify to the ways that justice could show up in our relationships, especially to the overlooked among us. Or maybe we could sit uncomfortably with the rules that hit a little too close to home. Either way, we could all benefit from at least trying all the things on the plate of justice, because it’s not a buffet.