There is something really appealing about Old Testament justice, at least for me. It appeals to my sense of right and wrong in the world. An eye for an eye seems pretty fair. You don’t get to take a life if someone took your eye. You don’t get to break his arms and legs and throw him in a ditch. You get simple, even retribution. No extra tacked on for pain and suffering. Just simple, uncluttered justice.
And God did really well at covering His bases – gave very specific instruction. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, wound for wound, bruise for bruise, freedom for abuse of power, accidents forgiven, personal responsibility for negligence, compensation for distress and loss caused another by one’s own carelessness. It actually seems a lot like our modern system of justice – but without the lawyers, juries, media coverage or punitive damages.
The Old Testament version of justice makes sense to me. It doesn’t go overboard with harsh punishment, but it also doesn’t absolve people of personal responsibility. It’s logical. It shows common sense. We’ve lost some of our sense of common sense and personal responsibility in modern American society where we sue each other for everything.
Now, in case you are questioning my interpretation of modern day American justice, please know I am not a basher of my own country. I do love this country and am very grateful I get to live here. However, I offer the following short stories from my 2001 mission trip to Romania as evidence that we’ve lost a little something in the common sense and reasonable justice department:
First story: Tom Flynn, our trip leader, was walking up the steps of a public building with our translator. The steps were in disrepair with chunks of concrete missing and some loose gravelly places here and there. You had to be a little careful where you stepped. Tom said to Lorincz, “There’s a lawsuit waiting to happen.” Makes total sense to us – we understand that comment. Lorincz, however, was puzzled and asked for clarification. When Tom explained that in America the steps would have to be repaired or the businesses or agencies housed in the building could be sued if someone fell down and got injured. Lorincz laughed. He then explained what would happen if someone tried to sue someone in Romania under similar circumstances. If the person actually got as far as going before a judge, the judge would ask, “Were you looking where you were walking?” If the person said yes, the judge would explain that he should have seen the problem and walked around it. If the person said no, the judge would say he should have been watching where he was going. End of story. And so very logical and practical.
Second story: We’re on a bus driving through the Carpathian mountains. For those of you unfamiliar with driving through the Carpathian mountains in a bus in Romania, let me just say they are very high and very steep with narrow roads, no shoulders, and no guard rails. It’s a bit disconcerting. My friend Katy said to Lorincz that she noticed there were no guard rails. Then she asked what would happen if a bus or car went off the road. Lorincz looked at her with something like a cross between confusion and impatience and said, “It would fall down.” Yep. That about covers it. Makes loads of sense, too.
Both of these stories remain dear to me because they are so completely logical and simple and demonstrate how far afield we sometimes go. Now I know that sometimes there is a need for responsibility on the part of businesses and public facilities. I had a dear friend break her leg very severely when she stepped in a hole in a parking lot – a hole that was impossible to see because the whole lot was under a couple of inches of water and was not well lit. Should she have been more careful? Probably. But also the school should have repaired the parking lot or at least lit it well enough to see. My friend sued the school, which fought her tooth and nail. The case was not resolved by the time I left the area, but my friend was likely to receive a substantial settlement. But there is room for some debate in exactly where the lines of responsibility should be drawn. My friend should have probably used greater caution – like carrying a flashlight or at least a walking stick on a rainy night and the school should have put a traffic cone in the potholes or had someone to walk folks to their cars or something. That would have been fairer all the way around – at least in Old Testament justice.
New Testament justice? No worry about fairness there – each party should take total responsibility. Forget the eye for eye and tooth for tooth. According to the words of Jesus, if someone takes our eyes, we should probably give him a hug. After all, Jesus said, “But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also.” The responsibility is not divided in this case – it is borne solely by the follower of Christ. We are not to seek retribution or what is fair according to the standards of the world, but instead we are to hold our tempers in check and react with grace and generosity. In New Testament justice, my friend should probably have sent a thank you for your help after my clumsiness in falling note and the school should have insisted on giving her more than she was due plus flowers and candy. Hard to imagine, but that’s more like what Jesus says we are supposed to do.
In fact, Jesus said, “If anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your coat as well. If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles.” We aren’t supposed to trade eyes for eyes or anger for anger. We are supposed to react with generosity beyond what is asked of us when we deal with those who might seek to push us around.
But it gets more troublesome, still. “Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you.” Now that’s a challenge when we get so many solicitations to donate to various organizations and is even more of a challenge when we are faced with a homeless person begging or a friend or relative who wants to borrow but who isn’t so good about or is incapable of returning. That’s a hard pill to swallow.
When I lived in Pittsburgh and commuted through downtown, each evening I would end up in line at the traffic light where the traffic from the Parkway North fed into the traffic from the Boulevard of the Allies and came together to cross the Liberty Bridge. Never once did I make that light when it was green. And always there was at least one homeless man there, begging for help. He was dirty and wore clothes that looked like they’d not been washed in months. He had a scraggly beard and mustache with long wild hair, all coming together to basically obscure his face except his eyes. He had kind eyes, but they always had such a look of defeat. I was pretty broke during those years, but I always tried to find something to give him. If I’d been paid recently, I’d give him a book of McDonald’s gift certificates – enough to get a couple of hot meals. I knew there was a McDonald’s not too far a walk and that they’d have to let him in from the cold to use the certificates. I don’t know that anything I did made a real difference, and I didn’t go the second mile to try to help by doing more than just giving him what I could out my car window. I often wonder what Jesus thinks of how I dealt with that man, whether He’s disappointed I didn’t do more or pleased that at least I made some effort. I wish I’d been brave enough to do more; at the very least to ask his name. But I didn’t. I remember that guy, and to this day I wonder if he’s still there, living under the 7th street bridge and making do with whatever change commuters are willing to spare.
After telling us we are supposed to give more than we are asked in doing justice, Jesus tells us how we are to understand real justice. He says, “You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you….” Wow. Talk about a tall order. It’s hard enough to love our neighbors, how in the world are we supposed to love our enemies? I don’t have a good answer for that. After all, Jesus doesn’t give the same kind of explicit instruction as those found in Exodus and Leviticus and Deuteronomy. He simply says we are to love both our neighbors and our enemies. I really struggle with that. Not that I have tons of enemies, but I think about historic enemies – Osama Bin Laden, politicians in general and especially those of the opposing political party (which ever side you’re on), the Green Bay Packers who beat my Steelers (although Rothlisberger did a great job of loving his enemies – he even threw them the ball repeatedly!), or the worst enemy I can think of: Hitler. How am I supposed to get past my humanity to love even Hitler? Yet Jesus said to love our enemies. Not necessarily approve of their actions or support their causes, but to love them. But how and why?
Well, Jesus does tell us the why, though He’s awfully silent on the how. The why is all the stuff that comes after the love your enemies bit. Why? “That you may be children of your Father in heaven.” That seems like a very good reason. I want to be a child of my Father in heaven. So I guess I’d better keep trying to love my enemies, even if I’m not very good at it yet.
Then Jesus points out that God created all of us, and grants blessings to all, in some form. He says of the Father, “He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.” Well, if God doesn’t withhold the sun and the rain from even the evil people, who are we to withhold love? It’s a tough thing to really do, but this is where the idea of loving the sinner while hating the sin comes in. Even Hitler was a child of God and if God chooses, God is capable of forgiving even such a one as Hitler. I’m not, but God is. I’m sure glad I’m not God!
Finally Jesus gets to the logical argument – the part that makes sense to me. “If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that?” Ooh. That stings a little. That’s loving selfishly, keeping the love and grace and salvation we’ve found in Christ to ourselves. That’s not what we’re supposed to do. We’re supposed to spread the Gospel to the ends of the earth and leave it to God to sort out who accepts it in his heart and who does not. If we love only those who love us, then we are treating love like a commodity and expecting some return for our investment of love. A return on such an investment is nice, but it shouldn’t be the reason for loving. And we’re not to keep the good news just for ourselves and those who look like us, speak like us, live like us. The good news is for the homeless man under the 7th street bridge at least as much as it’s for me. It’s for anyone who will accept it, not just for those we choose to let in on the secret.
In truth, we aren’t really capable of the kind of justice Jesus calls us to. We aren’t good enough to live up to New Testament justice anymore than we are able to live up to the last words of this section, “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” We aren’t perfect. We can’t be. Perhaps that’s why Old Testament justice holds such appeal. But Jesus call us to strive for perfection. He taught us a new way of doing things and at the very least we should be trying to remember to trade not eyes for eyes, but hugs. Even when it seems impossible. After all, by doing so, we get to be children of our Father in heaven. And Amen.