Nevertheless we persist

Luke 18: 1-8
New Ark United Church of Christ, Newark, DE
October 20, 2019

Lady Justice, Frankfurt, Germany

Neither the widow nor the judge in this parable are people of likeable or moral character. They are not stereotypes; they are individuals. We assume the widow is the victim in this story, or at least that she has no agency and thus needs the help of the judge. Perhaps that is because the translation softens her words. What she says is more scrappy: “Give me vengeance or avenge me against my adversary!” She might have been wronged but she is not powerless or without agency. She keeps after him, this judge who has neither regard for God or for humankind. He’s not exactly unjust; more like unwise for having no regard for God and perhaps irascible when it comes to human beings. His words are softened too. He gives her justice not only because she is annoyingly persistent but because “she keeps giving me work so I will give her vengeance so that she will not beat me up and give me a black eye”.

Luke uses this parable of Jesus as a means of urging his listeners to be persistent in prayer. At the time Luke wrote this gospel the Second Temple had been destroyed, God’s people were dispersed and actively persecuted, both Jews and followers of the Way – remember Saul breathing threats and murder in the book of Acts. They were anxious for Jesus to return, longing for the wholeness and the justice he would bring—the Beloved Community on earth. So if a judge, who cares not one whit about people, let alone widows as he should, grants justice to a widow who will visit him with violence, how much more will God who is compassionate and just grant justice to God’s people?

God’s people were commanded to care for the widow, the orphan and the stranger. The Hebrew word for ‘widow’ has its roots in the words for ‘forsaken’ and ‘mute’. These outsiders are the voiceless among us – those who are marginalized and criminalized because of who they are. We are to pray not only in the manner of those who have no power – to give the powers that be the work they should be doing – but to be the voice for those whose voices have been silenced.

Earlier this week, Atatiana Jefferson of Fort Worth, TX, was shot by police in her own home after a neighbor called the police for a welfare check on her house. It was 2:30 a.m. She and her 8 year old nephew were playing a video game when she heard noises outside. Within four seconds of the officer seeing Tay through the window she was dead. After the shooting, in an effort to defend the actions of the police officer who shot her, it was revealed that she owned a handgun and had pointed it at the window, a handgun that she legally owned. To defend herself at 2:30 in the morning when she hears noises outside of her house.



At a town hall meeting after the shooting, Courtney Miller, a criminal defense attorney in Fort Worth, TX, became the voice for one who was silenced, so that Atatiana might have justice.







“If I were a black woman in this city, my fear would be ‘what if they shot me’."  Ms. Miller went on to say, "And that’s reality. I stand with you and I commend you for wanting to have a police oversight committee. What I ask of you is that you have a criminal defense attorney present on that committee. We watch body cams all day. We can tell you what’s going on and we can name names.” This is privilege spent on justice. This is prayer with its boots on. 

Rabbi Heschel in the Selma march (2nd from right)

Though this is a parable about persistence in prayer and God’s justice, our prayer needs to be lived out in our bodies, in our lives, and in our life together. After Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel returned from marching from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama, someone asked him if he found much time to pray. Heschel replied, “I prayed with my feet”. Civil rights leader Fannie Lou Hamer said, “You can pray until you faint but unless you get up and try to do something, God is not going to put it in your lap.”

And so when we give, we are praying.

• When we march for others to exist in safe space, we are praying.
• When we sit in silence and quiet our minds, we are praying.
• When we vote, we are praying.
• When we get our flu shot, we are praying.
• When we engage our senators and representatives, we are praying.
• When we plant seeds, we are praying.
• When we speak up on behalf of the voiceless, we are praying.
• When we make their problems our problems, we are praying.
• When we take care of our bodies with rest and good food, we are praying.
• When we do the hard inner work of facing our privilege, we are praying.
• When we listen, we are praying.
• When we cry and mourn and acknowledge our grief, we are praying.
• When we forgive ourselves and others, we are praying.
• When we feed the hungry, we are praying.
• When we invest in the future of all children, we are praying.
• When water is left in the desert for migrants, we are praying.
• When we follow the money and put pressure on those who benefit from the suffering of others, we are praying.
• When we insist and annoy and rattle our leaders into leading, we are praying.

We may or may not see results of the effort of these prayers.

Nevertheless we persist.



We can pray until we faint but unless we get up and try to do something, God is not going to put it in our laps.



Amen.