Photo courtesy of James Coleman, Unsplash.
It’s officially fair season, and I feel like I must admit that I have not actually attended the State Fair of Texas yet. I am a pandemic transplant, so I’m still catching up on all the must-dos after arriving when so many things were shut down. I did, however, stand in a too-long line in the parking lot of Lakewood Village shopping center soon after I arrived here to try one of those Fletcher’s corny dogs that I kept hearing about. And I have been here long enough to witness the fair frenzy that overtakes our city as professionals take off work to go to the fair, children obsess over the various rides, and restaurants roll out themed menus. It is quite the spectacle to an outsider.
Justice begins with the question “who is suffering?”
As the fair frenzy descends on us yet again, I can’t help but wonder if another kind of fair frenzy has captivated our nation. The last months have been chock-full of broad legislation and rulings that have reaffirmed the polarization of our nation. And as opposing sides respond to the myriad of issues, the concept of fairness echoes loudly through arguments. “It’s not fair,” opposition usually begins, as if fairness were the value by which we measure all else. Is our nation in its own “fair” season, albeit void of corny dogs but still just as frenzied?
When fairness is at the center of arguments, I hear a desire for objectivity and neutrality and a hope for policies that relieve populations equally. As a middle child, I am well acquainted with the love of fairness. I spent my childhood proclaiming “that’s not fair” and offering my own suggestions about how my parents could create fairness. My faith has cured me of that love, though, and replaced it with a love of justice. Fairness and justice are related but not the same.
The Bible is filled with scriptures about justice. The prophets, who are usually the ones calling for justice, don’t care much for the objectivity and neutrality we associate with fairness. Instead, they are driven by compassion for those who are suffering. They seek out those who are hurting and compel communities to offer hope. Justice can’t be neutral because it begins not with an objective concept or an idea, but with a person or a group of people. Justice begins with the question “who is suffering?”
I wonder what could happen in our neighborhood and in our city if we begin asking “who is suffering” and “where does it hurt?” How would our conversations change? And how would it change our response to things that don’t seem fair? In my experience, knowing the suffering of others is the best starting point for more generous and compassionate relationships, and who doesn’t want to live in a neighborhood defined by those things?
