“Grant Me Justice”
Nineteenth Sunday After Pentecost
October 19, 2025
Burnt Hills United Methodist Church
In his posthumously published book, Worldly Theology: The Hermeneutical Focus of an Historical Faith, twentieth century theologian and professor just down yonder at Drew Theological School Carl Michalson offers an exercise for folks trying to make sense of any one of Jesus’ parables.
Whenever you’re encountering one of his parables, ask yourself these questions: which character is Jesus? And which character are we?
Which character is Jesus? And which character are we?
Jesus’ parables can often be enigmatic and hard to decipher, so starting your interpretive work with these two questions offers solid footing to begin the hard work of unpacking those theologically dense short stories.
So if we were to ask that question for today’s parable, which character do we think would be Jesus, and which character do we think would be us?
Well the classical answer to that question would certainly be Jesus is the judge, and we are the widow, right? For starters, there’s always this reflexive impulse in the Western Church to identify Jesus with power and authority, and it’s clear that the judge is the one with power and authority in spades in this story. The judge receives and hears petitions. The judge grants reprieve and pardons. The judge is clearly the one in control of this situation and the widow is at his mercy.
So we, as the widow in this interpretation, are meant to be persistent in our faith. Keep on raising those petitions. Keep on showing up. Keep on keeping on. Eventually, we will have our justice. Eventually, our prayers will be heard and answered.
It’s certainly one way to interpret this parable. And look, if that’s the interpretation that inculcates holiness in you—if that’s the interpretation that draws you ever closer to a more complete love of God and love of neighbor—that’s great. I’m not out here trying to yuck anyone’s yum. Go and serve the Lord.
But maybe that’s not you, and that’s not your experience with this text. Maybe it doesn’t reflect your experience with God.
Because one of the most difficult things about this line of work is that question of why in the wake of tragedy.
I prayed; why did I get this diagnosis?
I prayed; why did I lose that job?
I prayed; why can’t they see my child in the way that I see my child?
I prayed and I prayed and I prayed; why did they have to die?
It’s a sad reality that we can never know what a day is going to bring. For any one of us, all it can take is one bad day for everything we know about ourselves and our place in the world to irrevocably change. And hearing a message along the lines of “just pray harder” rings a tad hollow.
In case you’re ever wondering, that’s the reason I always introduce our prayer time the way that I do. I don’t stand up here and promise that our prayers will be answered in the way that we want them. God is bigger than a vending machine and our prayers are bigger than the loose change we might use to buy a pack of gum. We serve and worship a God who is big enough to receive and hear all of our prayers. The prayers that we raise aloud, the prayers that we keep to ourselves, and the prayers that are known only to God and hide in the corners of our hearts. God receives all of them—the good, the bad, and the ugly—as the acts of faithful worship that they are.
Because in my experience, the person asking that why question isn’t looking for a drawn-out theological treatise on the nature of suffering and divine justice. Instead, that “why” reveals a deep longing and need to be seen and heard and understood. It reveals a yearning for empathetic solidarity.
But that’s the good news of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. In life, in death, and in life beyond death we are not alone. We have, each and every one of us, been given the greatest gift of all—we have been given the gift of each other.
But the wonderful thing about scripture is that it can contain a multiplicity of readings. There is more than one way to interpret and understand the text. So, perhaps, if the more classical interpretation leaves you feeling wanting this morning, we can take a step back and try our hand answering those two questions again.
Which character is Jesus? And which character are we?
How does our interpretation of this parable change if Jesus isn’t the judge, but the widow?
The widow who never relents in her pursuit of justice.
The widow who shows up again and again presenting her case to the judge, in spite of the judge’s hardness of heart.
And, for what it’s worth, that’s how our friend Michalson from earlier answers that question too.
Jesus is, he writes, “the importunate widow whose undeviating petition brings God’s kingdom into the present” (Carlson, 164).
Grant me justice, she cries out, and she never stops.
But if Jesus is the widow in this story, then that would have to make us the judge, right?
The unjust judge, who neither feared God nor had respect for his people.
The judge who heard the widow’s plea day after day after day, doing nothing.
The judge who only relented, not because he had a lasting transformation of heart or a desire to see justice done for the sake of justice itself, but because he grew tired and weary of the widow’s persistence.
If Jesus is the widow in this story, then that makes us the judge, and, I’m not going to lie, I don’t know if I like that interpretive lens so much either—not because I find it theologically harmful or problematic, but because I find it convicting.
Because I know that there are voices crying out for justice all over. Crying out for justice in our streets. Crying out for justice across our communities and our nation. And crying out for justice around the world.
All creation cries out for justice, if only we have ears to hear it.
And, while I know that I don’t have the power to bring about an end to all injustice by myself, I also know that I am not totally powerless either.
I do have agency. We all have agency to effect change in our own ways and in our own places, if only we have the will to use it.
And that’s what makes this parable so haunting.
Even though he did it for all the wrong reasons.
Even though he did it only to preserve his own comfort.
The unjust judge did, eventually, relent.
And yet, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?
Faith that hears the widow’s petitions in our own lives and contexts and responds, not by doing what we can to make our own lives more easy and more comfortable, but by joining our voices with hers in a relentless pursuit for justice? Faith that sees and hears and understands her in her plight—that enters into empathetic solidarity with her?
Is that the kind of faith the Son of Man will find on earth?
It’s opportune that the lectionary offers up this Gospel passage today, because this week our partners in ministry over at the General Board of Church and Society of the United Methodist Church are calling on United Methodists to participate in the seventeenth annual Congo Week, a week of activities that commemorates the millions of lives lost in the Congo conflict while celebrating the enormous human and natural potential that exists in the country.
Because the sound of Jesus’ persistent petition for justice can be heard from voices all around the world, but for too long too many of us have failed to hear it coming from the voices of our siblings across the Democratic Republic of the Congo.
That’s why I encourage you to take some time today and this week to go to congoweek.org, and read through some of their resources. We’ll post some of them on our own Facebook and Instagram pages too. You’ll find stories that lift up the Congo.
Stories that lift up its people.
Stories that lift up its heroes.
Stories that tell of its natural resources.
Stories that tell of its tragedies and histories of exploitation.
And stories that tell of its resilience.
Learn about how European powers carved the continent of Africa up.
Learn about how Belgium’s King Leopold II extracted vast personal and political wealth from the Congo’s rubber trees in a cruel campaign of forced labor.
Learn about how that same history of extraction is repeating itself today with the mining of minerals like cobalt and coltan—essential components of everything electrical that powers our lives from our smartphones and computers to our electric cars.
Learn about how, in 1961 Patrice Emery Lumumba, Congo’s first democratically elected Prime Minister’s, rule lasted only months before he was overthrown and assassinated by Western economic powers.
Learn about how coalitions of women and youth are coming together to build and maintain the DRC’s future.
Learn about how the world’s second largest rainforest is in the Congo and how it is vital in the fight against climate change.
Learn about how some of the most vibrant and transformational United Methodist ministry contexts are throughout the DRC.
Hear the widow’s petitions for justice coming from our siblings in the Congo, and then act.
Our own Congressional Representative Paul Tonko and Senator Kirsten Gillibrand have legislative committee assignments that deal directly with energy, the environment, and federal spending. As we, God willing, continue to transition to a green economy, access to the minerals in the Congo already has fueled the tremendous loss of Congolese lives. Join your voices with the voices of Christ coming from the Congo and tell Congressman Tonko and Senator Gillibrand that the sovereignty and integrity of the DRC and its people must be respected and maintained during this economic transition. Tell them that the DRC needs our foreign aid—that the Congo is the heart of the African continent and our own national and global security in the twenty-first century will depend on the welfare of the Congo.
Or grab a buddy and do the same. Host a letter writing party. Break the silence.
And tell them that you’re doing this because you’re a United Methodist and that this is a direct ask from the people of the United Methodist Church. Because that language comes straight from our own United Methodist Book of Resolutions’ Resolution on the Democratic Republic of the Congo: Hope for a Radiant Future.
Because we Methodists are a praying people and a people who turn our prayers into action. That’s who we’ve always been as a movement.
And to close us out, I reached out to one of my own friends and partners in ministry, Michel, and asked him to prepare this video for us. Michel is a graduate of Africa University and is a clergy member of the South Congo Annual Conference, currently serving as a chaplain at the Center of Excellence for HIV/AIDS Care at the University of Lubumbashi in the DRC. I asked him to offer up a prayer of intercession for his country and his people for us to hear and join in on. I left some copies of a transcription of his prayer in the back. So come, let us join our hearts together in prayer with Michel to the God who hears and receives all prayers.
The prayers that we voice aloud.
The prayers that we keep to ourselves.
And the prayers that are heard by nobody else.
Michel Tshinyama, I am clergy member in the South Congo Annual Conference in the Democratic Republic of Congo. A former student of Africa University and a student assistant chaplain at Africa University. Currently, I am on study leave.
The General Board of Church and Society advertised that October, 19. 2025 is the start of a week focused on advocacy for peace in The Democratic Republic of Congo.
Here is my intercession prayers:
God, out of your love, you created human being in your own imagine and likeness, in your wisdom and through divine word, the rest of creation came to be, you placed everything and every creation in the world with a right to exist, therefore, I pray that you grant us wisdom, humility, and love for each other in order to live in harmony, peace and justice. I pray for your Providence grace to enable us to safe-guard the dignity of each person and creation. I pray for the Democratic Republic of Congo and Africa. May the churches in the Democratic Republic of Congo and Africa proclaim the word of your truth in love even to those in power, those causing conflicts and suffering to your people and creation. I pray for those who are affected, those in distress and needs. I pray for those in power and for a mutual collaborative working relationship with the churches, for the sake of our communities and all the people.
Amen.
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