Tenacity is a virtue, in general. We admire those who have
what we call “stick-to-itiveness,” who hang in there. Our stories are full of
those who hang in there and keep pressing until their task is done. Nelson
Mandela, who spent decades imprisoned on Robbin Island as a result of his fight
against apartheid. Winston Churchill, whose parents thought he was mentally
slow, and who faced political triumphs and reversals throughout his career.
Olympic medalist Wilma Rudolph, who suffered from polio as a child but
triumphed in track and field.
We laud these people who persevered.
And then there is the widow in our Gospel reading this
morning.
Yes, she’s tenacious.
Yes, she has “stick-to-itiveness.”
But she is also a royal pain, especially to the judge.
Sometimes tenacity doesn’t feel so noble.
And we would laugh at the story and the miserable old widow
who pestered the judge, and that would be the end of the story.
But it isn’t about the widow, this story, as much as she
seems to be the center of the tale.
It’s something very different.
It’s all about the judge.
The judge, whom Jesus describes as “a judge who neither
feared God nor had respect for people.” Not a very nice person, despite his
power and fine robes and position in the community. Who knows what measure he
uses to define justice? He doesn’t look to God. He doesn’t respect people. He
has no one except himself. And his decision in the case of this annoying old
woman is a prime example of this. He doesn’t decide in her favor because he
thinks she is right. He doesn’t decide in her favor because it is required by
Torah. He decides in her favor simply because she is a pain in his tuchus and he wants her to go away.
Not a very righteous giver of justice, even though justice
is served.
So if we focus on the judge and see him as something less
than a good judge, does that change our view of the widow. Widows were the
bottom rung of the ladder in terms of status and power. If we want an example
of someone who needs all the tenacity in their being simply to survive, the
widow is it. Does she know that tenacity is the only way she can get justice?
Is she a prophetic voice, much as the widow Anna was when Jesus was brought to
the temple as a newborn? Is she, in fact, free to use her voice because she
doesn’t have a husband saying “go back home and fix dinner?” Might she, in her
annoying tenacity, be doing precisely what she is supposed to do, seeking
justice for those who do not have justice?
So why does Jesus tell this story? What is he trying to
illustrate? He’s a smart teacher, and knows that a funny story, using an
aggravating old woman, a common comedy archetype, will draw his listeners in. And he’s telling the story to remind his
followers to keep praying and not lose hope.
Lose hope for what? The story certainly seems to be about
justice, about respect, about fairness. Jesus’ followers – all the people of Israel,
in fact – are oppressed by the Roman overlords. Jesus’ followers in particular
are disrespected by the Jewish leadership. It is logical that Jesus’ followers
would hope that things might be different, that they might be treated with
respect, that they might escape the pressure of being the hated ones in a
society where there were levels upon levels of hatred of those who were
different.
So Jesus tells them this slightly silly story. Slightly
silly, but mostly deadly serious. Because she wouldn’t let go. She wouldn’t
stop asking for what she needed. She wouldn’t stop praying, even though her
pestering of the judge might not look like praying.
Jesus does something unusual as he tells this parable. Most
often, when Jesus tells a parable, he lets the story stand for itself and doesn’t
explain it, and sometimes the disciples have to ask him what he means. But
here, He finishes the story by telling
the followers the moral of the tale. He thinks it is important enough that he
wants to make absolutely clear what he means. “Will not God grant justice to
his chosen ones who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long in helping
them? I tell you, he will quickly grant justice to them. And yet, when the Son
of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?"
Here’s the emphasis on persistent prayer…those who cry to
him day and night. And there is also the promise of relief, God quickly
granting justice to them. But then there is a poignant coda: When the Son of
Man comes, will he find faith on earth?
This is not about perseverance alone, although perseverance
is important. This is not about prayer alone, although we are encouraged to
pray without ceasing. This is not about justice, although we will have it at
some point, perhaps sooner than later.
It is about faith.
Faith is what causes us to pray. Without faith, there would
be no point to prayer. Faith is what inspires us to believe that justice will
be served. Without faith, justice is a mere whim or legalism. Faith is what
reminds us that some day, the Son of Man will return.
Are we tenacious enough to keep praying for justice for all?
Can we persevere and be patient until the time when the Son of Man returns? Can
we have faith enough to expect that God will hear us, respond to us, comfort
us, teach us, until that day comes?
Let us pray:
Gracious God, the one who offers eternal justice, give us
the faith to pray and keep praying until your reign on earth is realized. Keep
us faithful and prayerful, and keep us looking forward to the day when the Son
of Man returns and finds us still faithful, still praying, still serving, as
you would have us serve.
Amen.
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