The Parable of the Soils of Justice

And again, the speaker stood up on the podium and behind the microphone, and his words burst forth in a voice unlike any had heard. He spoke with a furrowed brow and with resonance and emotion in his voice and the words rolled off his tongue as if he had said them before.

“Listen carefully to these words. The justice worker went out to spread the word of righteousness across the land, how people should be treating other people regardless of skin color, addressing the depth of the breadth of institutional racism, unfair lending laws, the costs of segregation, inequalities in the health care industry and health disparities, unfair practices at the county level for home and operating loans for black or Indian or women or Hispanic farmers, and a myriad of other ills that have befallen the countryside and the city. 

Some of justice worker’s words fell on hearts that were unprepared or unwilling
to hear and inner voices of ‘not me,’ ‘not my people,’ or the subtler, ‘if he’s right I’m wrong and I’ll have to sacrifice all that I’ve built,’ and the words of the world of whiteness stifled out the words and sentiments of justice. Some of words of the justice worker fell on ears that seemed to want to hear and hearts that seemed open and in those moments of the conference hall there were signs of agreement, but once the person stood back out into the sun of her life and felt the harsh glare of family and friends and society and church saying, ‘not so, too much effort, too much, too much,’ and ‘besides, we’re all good people,’ and ‘I have friends of color, so she’s not talking about me’ and she went on her way untouched and unmoved.

Some of the justice worker’s words fell upon hearts that took it in, at least on the surface, but unbeknownst to all, beliefs and attitudes and practices and family and friends choked the words and sentiments away. Years and years and years off white supremacy, decades and decades of wealth based upon skin color, centuries and centuries of living within systems that profit one set of people and kick to the curb other people groups simply could not be altered, so ideas of change were quickly, very, very quickly starved out, even before the people and their hearts reached home.

However, the justice worker’s words fell upon other hearts who took it in, pondered the truthfulness of things gone very, very wrong for some people and gone very, very right for other people. He realized that slavery and ownership of human beings had permeated the soil and the hearts and soils of all around, and had so for centuries. He said to himself, ‘these things shall not be so in my world and in my family, and I will do all that I can to address them and make for change. I will create space within my own heart and life and church and neighborhood so that all people are treated fairly and justly regardless of skin color because all are God’s children, every color dark or light. I will listen to stories of marginalization and I will encourage others to do the same. I will work to create equality and opportunities and communities that promote change. And I will teach my children to treat people well and they will teach their children. We will march, we will write, we will protest, and we will write songs and sing them in the public square. We will walk the halls of state congressional buildings and we will do the same for national congressional buildings and we will knock on the door of change-makers and rule-breakers for changes in the laws and policies of our country. And one day, we will notice that justice does rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream.” And it was so.