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Widows and Orphans
Doom to you who legislate evil, who make laws that make victims—laws that make misery for the poor, that rob people of dignity, exploiting defenseless widows, taking advantage of homeless children. Who will help you on Judgment Day? – Isaiah 10:1-3 abridged (MSG)
If you want, Microsoft Word will take care of widows and orphans for you. In fact, managing widows and orphans is the program’s default setting, which means Microsoft Word is caring for widows and orphans the whole world ‘round.
Who knew, right? Injustices against society’s most vulnerable—solved!
Not really, of course. The widows and orphans that Microsoft Word cares about are found in a page layout, not in your community. Typographically speaking, widows and orphans are bits of lonely text. An orphan can be two words looking isolated on the final line of a paragraph. A widow is the first or last line of a paragraph, separated from that paragraph and standing on its own at the top or bottom of a page.
It’s a pagination detail that Microsoft Word likes to solve. Just a touch of pre-programmed algorithm, and voilà! The widows are no longer stranded. The orphans are no longer alone.
If only social crises were so easy to solve. If only a pile of money, biased assumptions, and mercenary AI could be thrown at widows and orphans like a Microsoft Word program, so that the rest of us could be content in our apathy.
But the Bible doesn’t call us to care for widows and orphans—that is, for people whose health and homes, livelihoods and opportunities are insecure—through impersonal automations. We’re not called to care for immigrants by leaving them stranded in the grip of ICE. The prophets don’t rally us to care for prisoners by leaving them alone at the mercy of private corporations.
Microsoft Word gets one thing right: no one should be isolated from community.
The Bible calls us to do something about it.
Prayer: For the courage to be personally invested, we pray.
cross-posted with the UCC Daily Devotional
The Emperor’s Clothes
“But the emperor has no clothes!” cries the child in the crowd. And so cry we all, when our public leaders embrace an obvious scam without a trace of remorse, without a blush of embarrassment. “No kings,” we shout against unilateral political power. “No occupation,” we shout against military action in our own cities and neighborhoods. “No theocrats,” we shout against the imposition of puritanical laws.
Pointing our finger at naked hubris on parade takes childlike audacity.
Contending with our own naked hubris, however, takes maturity.
Those of us who are white American Christians have a very particular and blatant pretense to contend with, a twisted scam that has been run in the name of Jesus for centuries:
The belief that Christianity + whiteness = righteousness.
= authority.
= importance.
The impact of this historic and ongoing con is monstrous. Yet despite clear knowledge of our supremacy problem, white American Christianity as a whole continues to parade its pretense through the streets: uncompromising in our occupation of stolen lands; undeterred from our conviction that white American Christian values are best for the world (even as we fight amongst ourselves over which set of values that is); unashamed to view ourselves as exceptions to our own history. There are not enough protest posters in the world to make fig leaves that will adequately cover the extent of such hubris.
White American Christianity still seeks no king but itself, no occupation but its own, no values unless we approve. We are impressively naked, wrapped in the scam we’ve inherited and perpetuated. When our nakedness is pointed out, the white tears we cry do not veil our self-importance.
“Happy are those whose sin is covered,” observes the psalmist. “But when we hide our iniquities from our own awareness and before God, then we waste away.” (See Psalm 32:1-4.) Collective repentance, in liturgy and in life, is essential in our state of torment—not as an effort to cover the nakedness of white American Christianity but as a spiritual practice to strip it more completely of its long-running con.
Collective repentance requires our white American Christian theology to mature in its understanding of salvation. If indeed Jesus came to save us all, then Jesus is the Good Samaritan and we are the battered faith dying in a ditch. We are the lazy servant with our faith buried in the dirt of racism and fear. We are the hungry, the sick, and the imprisoned who so greatly resent a self-image of need that we built and still embrace social systems that force others into hunger, illness, and imprisonment. If indeed Jesus came to save us all, then our white American Christian theology cannot position us as salvation-bearers and eager-beaver-Jesus-helpers.
We cannot be disciples of a one-by-one savior, whether that’s a “personal Lord and Savior” or a “one-man justice act” called Jesus. Collective repentance of our supremacy sin needs a collective savior, and we white American Christians are no more and no less than those who need salvation.
cross-posted with the UCC “Witness for Justice” newsletter
Witnesses to Love
13,000. That’s how many Palestinian children have been killed in Israel’s ongoing military campaign against Hamas, as estimated by UNICEF this spring. 1,195,070. That’s how many deaths in the U.S. have been attributed to COVID-19 since the start of the pandemic,...
Good to Be Seen
Then Moses and Aaron, Nadab and Abihu, and seventy elders went up the mountain, and they saw the God of Israel. Under God’s feet there was something like a sapphire pavement, as clear and blue as the heavens. They beheld God, and they ate and drank. - Exodus 24:9-11...
Let There Be No Dew or Rain
David intoned this lamentation over Saul and his son Jonathan: “How the mighty have fallen! You mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew or rain upon you, nor bounteous fields! For there the shield of the mighty was defiled, anointed with oil no more.” - 2 Samuel...
Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes
The eye cannot say to the hand, “I have no need of you,” nor again the head to the feet, “I have no need of you.” - 1 Corinthians 12:21 (NRSV) Actually, the eye can say to the hand, “I have no need of you.” The eye can discern texture without the hand, after all, and...
Playing
O Wisdom, how diverse are your works! In the great sea alone, there are countless creeping critters and all sizes of living things! Humans build ships to cross it, but you form Leviathan to play in it. - Psalm 104:24-26 (adapted) I’m sitting at the end of a long...
Miracles
In every dawn veiled by silent fog, before the sun scatters its mystery; In every dark crevice of earth's womb, before the seed breaks open to root; In every gasp of the unknown, before certainty cements itself: a miracle of wild possibility.
How Shall I Receive You?
As an ass, playing the role of jester? As the outlandish actor in the scene, cast to make the comfortable laugh and the disenchanted daydream? As a stone, the unseen understudy? As the patient watcher in the wings, ready to leap up and shout one line if only the leads...
A Jar of Oil
The widow of one of the prophets cried to Elisha, “Your servant my husband is dead, and now creditors come to take my two children as slaves.” Elisha said to her, “Tell me, what do you have in the house?” She answered, “Nothing except a jar of oil.” (2 Kings 4:1-2,...
The Measure of Humanity
“The question, ‘What is man*?’ is one of the most important questions confronting any generation,” began Martin Luther King, Jr. “The whole political, social, and economic structure of a society is largely determined by its answer to this pressing question.” King was...
