Justice: it's not fair!

Justice In the Bible the book of Job presents a profound commentary on human life’s most vexing philosophical issue—why do good people suffer so much injustice? This question never goes away. Most of us find this troubling our minds all too frequently. What is justice, anyway? Socrates argues about this with Thrasymachus—a man who concedes the brute fact that if you are stronger you come out on top. That’s just the way it is. More muscle, more money, more craftiness makes you a winner. The rest are losers. Justice, then, is whatever promotes the interest of the winners. Socrates will not cave into this cynicism. Justice arises when each person does what he or she is suited for—for the good of the whole. Butcher, baker, candlestick maker; lawyer, doctor, teacher—do your job well for the good of the whole rather than for selfish advancement. Do it even though you are misunderstood and suffer for it. Hence the parallel between the death of Socrates and of Jesus—the good get punished while the bad prosper. Job maintains his innocence—so why is God punishing him by taking away his family, his enormous wealth, and even his health? His pals say he must be hiding sin, since God does not punish good people. In the end God speaks. But God does not really give an answer, asking us to trust that he knows what he is doing—that everything will be fair in the end and that there will be amazing surprises that will delight us. There is a mystery afoot in the world. Wait and see. Do not give up no matter how bad things get. There is meanwhile the deep turmoil of the sufferer. As adults we echo our childhood complaint—it’s not fair! And God does not come to rescue us. It is not over yet. So hang on. Socrates said virtue (suffering evil rather than committing evil) is its own reward. Your inner conscience is intact—and that is a satisfaction. Socrates accepted death rather than caving in to save himself. Jesus took it a step further. He walked boldly to execution. He did not just keep his integrity intact. He did more than make a heroic statement. He took on himself the cynicism of Thrasymachus, the stubbornness of Socrates, and the quiet desperation of mankind. Jesus brought the philosophical issue of Job and Plato to its gritty end by embracing the cruelty of injustice. He died, as St. Paul says, the just for the unjust. The glorious result is that we expect an end commensurate with the means. In fact, the end will be more glorious than that. We will forget all of the trauma as we are swept into the glorious redemption God has in store. As he drank the cup of poison Socrates comforted himself that he had not compromised his convictions. For Jesus the outcome is infinitely more profound, for Jesus saw the transformation of all existence through his travail. The writer of Hebrews puts it this way. Jesus, ”for the joy that was set before him, endured the cross, despising the pain.” Everything that has gone wrong on the planet will not only be made right but will be made glorious beyond our craziest imagination. Job’s comforter, Elihu, reminds his friends of the wonders of God’s creation. God is great and we should come clean and confess our wrongdoing. In the end, God does not contradict this. But God reserves to himself the final word. That word is that what he has in mind cannot be fathomed by our minds. We are living in between. Between things we think we know and things that cannot be known in our present condition. Between things that crush us with perplexity and things that will explode our categories of understanding. Between the things we know all too well and the things that eye has not seen nor ear heard—that we cannot even imagine about what God has in store for those who love him. And all this converges into the man on the cross and explodes from the man whose tomb could not constrain him nor the universe contain him. Socrates died for his principles. Justice denied. Jesus died for the world. Justice for Job. Justice for all.