It is all too easy to hide behind the structures and rituals of religion, allowing oneself to be lulled into the illusion that all is right with God. The prophets recognized that rather than assent to a creed, true religion was dynamic and active on behalf of others. Faith is as faith does. In language that resonates with the final judgment scene in Matthew 25, Isaiah reminded his people that justice, compassion and generosity are the essential foundation stones of religious faith and worship. The words of this prophetic passage bear careful and close reading. It is only after the oppressed have been freed, the hungry fed and the naked clothed that God responds to our prayers and labours on our behalf. Justice is not optional or something that we can think about after everything else is done. Without it — or at least honest, serious, efforts in that direction — genuine religion cannot exist.
A recent right-wing commentator referred to Pope Francis as a Marxist for focusing attention on justice for the poor. That individual would do well to read both the Old and New Testaments with special attention on the prophets and the teachings of Jesus. It is shocking and dismaying that taking biblical teachings about justice, mercy and care for the poor and weak still strikes many as political or “not spiritual.” Isaiah had a special zinger for our own time — he singled out for particular condemnation “the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil.” As the political arena, the media and even the Church becomes more and more poisoned by uncivil, vitriolic, accusatory and uncharitable speech, perhaps it is time to stop and ask ourselves if we are behaving in a godly manner of serving the common good.
As far as Paul was concerned, human “wisdom” was a major part of the world’s problems and he didn’t want any part of it. So much of what passes for wisdom is based on fear, selfishness, competition and the lust for power. The cross that Paul used as the symbol of his message symbolized all that people feared and loathed: weakness, suffering and shame. Paul himself suffered from a lack of flashier gifts that impressed people, such as “presence,” visible brilliance and oratory eloquence. Paul saw all this as further proof of his message: it’s all about God. God’s power, God’s love, God’s grace, rather than bungling human attempts to set things right is what will save all of us. This cannot happen unless we stop attempting to be God and allow God to work in and through us.
Disciples of Jesus — and every believer is called to be one — have a great responsibility and mission. Jesus insisted that they are the salt of the earth. Salt was the symbol of both preservation and purification. If disciples “lose their saltiness” there are grave consequences for the world. A Christian religion without real disciples — like the stale salt — is not of much use to anyone. There is more: disciples are the light of the world. They are meant to inspire and give hope to everyone. Light that is hidden is not light at all, as in the case of a hyper-personal “me and Jesus” mentality or an obsessive concern with one’s own salvation, without an outward expression of this faith in the form of love and service.
Jesus was adamant: what is not shared is wasted. These and similar verses underscore a continuous theme in the New Testament: our faith in Jesus Christ is not meant to be a free ride, and God is not coming to fix the world for us. To be sure, we rely on God’s grace, without which our efforts would be useless. But God calls us to respond to this grace by being co-workers with Jesus in the redemption of our world. A life of faith is not just about ourselves — it is also lived on behalf of countless others.