We have just started to see the light at the end of the pandemic tunnel only to find that a cost-of-living crisis is fast approaching. We seem to go out of the frying pan into the fire, driven by skyrocketing gas prices and inflation gathering momentum. Both Scottish and British governments have come up with their respective plans on how to ease the crunch for many households, inevitably drawing criticism from opposition parties, news commentators and ordinary people. The common factor of the governments’ plans as well as their critics is the desire to find any feasible solution to ease the pain. We take this kind of public discourse for granted but we are the lucky ones; in many parts of the world, such public discussions about social or economic issues come at a high price: persecution, violence, imprisonment or even death. People in power rarely happily accept being criticised; people with absolute power are absolutely impervious to it. Standing up to such people has virtually always required an unhealthy dose of bravery and superhuman resilience.
Today’s gospel can be seen as a political manifesto, addressed to the poverty-stricken masses by a revolutionary leader. It begins with praise of those in peril: the poor, hungry, weeping and oppressed. Condemnation follows; a sharp denunciation of the influential, the rich, the powerful. Unlike in the relatively rich “west”, the message of the gospel has been the driving force behind many social and economic justice movements; the most well-known was the liberation theology that developed in Latin America in the 1960s & 70s. This is not the right time or place to discuss its rights or wrongs, but it was certainly developed by people acutely aware of extreme poverty, inequality and abuses of power, and desperate to change that. Have they managed to do so? Judging by the economic situation of many Latin-American countries and the constant stream of migrants trying to get through to the USA we can have some serious doubts about that.
So, is today’s gospel a political manifesto that can be adopted by political movements as their own? Perhaps, in a perfect, simpler world, it could work in its literal sense. Sadly, our world is neither perfect nor simple. Any clear-cut criteria of good and evil that look good on paper get complicated when we try to apply them to real-life circumstances. The simplistic “black and white” moral approach to complicated situations and choices usually results in merciless, unsympathetic, even callous treatment of others – all that in the name of the “God who is love.” The main challenge for us is to balance our moral principles with charitable flexibility. The former are crucial to give us a moral spine, the latter is central to making it beneficial for others. We can see such a balanced approach throughout Jesus’ public ministry.
Firstly, Jesus’ teaching was always focused on the personal change of an individual. If society as a whole was to be transformed into a fairer one, it would be as a result of individual changes. In that respect, the community of the followers of Christ was to be a model of such a transformed society. Today’s gospel’s manifesto is far more spiritual than political. Jesus promised that the struggle for improvement will find its fulfilment while falling into a trap of short-term, shallow prosperity will eventually lead to unhappiness. Secondly, Jesus always rejected violence committed in any name, under any standard. Even the noblest of causes and best of intentions cannot justify oppression for the one-dimensionally perceived good of others. When “happiness” is forced upon those who don’t accept it, it becomes just a different kind of shackle and violation. History and present times offer us plenty of examples of how well-intentioned high-moral grounds can destroy human lives.
Today’s gospel is a manifesto of what our priorities ought to be. At the core of the social teaching of the Church lies the principle called “the preferential option for the poor”, which means that the most vulnerable must not be pushed to the margins, out of sight of those better-off. The ways we support such people – directly or indirectly – is the real-life test of our Christian commitment. Jesus summarised it in this well-known passage: “I was hungry, and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty, and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in” and so on. Of course, it raises the question of how to practice “the preferential option for the poor” in our individual lives. There’s no one-size-fits-all answer to that. Our response must be dynamic and flexible because that’s the social, economic and political environment in which we live. Thankfully, we have one basic criterium on which our choices should be based: “Love your neighbour as yourself” – no more but no less either.
Image by Arek Socha from Pixabay