Christians must accept that charity is not justice, GoFundMe is not healthcare reform

The Bible readings for Lent in this lectionary year lean heavily on Luke. In the fourth chapter, Jesus famously proclaims that he has been sent: to set the oppressed free, to proclaim good news to the poor and freedom for prisoners, and to bring recovery of sight to the blind.

For anyone who has ever sincerely wondered what Jesus would do, this is one of those moments when he tells us precisely.

Such messages are abundant throughout the New Testament for those willing to receive them. Love God and one another. Care for each other. Don’t get caught up in accumulating power and money. Do justice. Love mercy. Walk humbly.

As imperfect humans, we all fall short at times. In a recently released survey by the Episcopal Church and market research firm Ipsos, the resonance of those shortcomings is sharply apparent.

While majorities of mainline and other Protestants and Evangelicals consider Christians compassionate, only 15% of those surveyed from non-Christian religions and 12% who identify as non-religious agree. One characteristic that a majority of non-religious respondents see in Christians is hypocrisy.

Information in the survey, conducted among more than 3,000 Americans in late 2021, is fascinating, reflecting similarities, differences and some pretty substantial disconnects.

In the third Lent of this pandemic, issues of mortality and morality are broadly displayed; the opportunities for transformation are abundant. Considering the to-do list that Jesus left for those of us who claim to follow him, some challenges are clear.

We must stop denigrating what we want to avoid as mere politics.

It seems almost reflexive for some to quickly dismiss difficult or controversial topics as political. That quells potential disagreement when we want pleasantries. Walking group and book club can proceed uninterrupted.

But within those cordoned-off issues exist suffering and needs that are discounted or misunderstood. Ignoring them reinforces that there are particular aspects of the status quo working for some of us — at least enough that we prefer our comfort flow undisrupted by their mention. It also ignores the inherently political nature of Jesus’ life and death.

Every conversation does not need to result in confrontation, and there are relationships worth trying to preserve by working through disagreements. But there are also people, equally beloved of God, for whom the outcome of the unspeakable is more than theoretical. It’s about how, or if, they live.

We must understand that charity is not justice.

GoFundMe is not health care reform. Along with feeding programs that don’t address food insecurity, homeless ministries that don’t pinpoint a lack of affordable housing, and donation drives for flood victims that don’t acknowledge climate change, it’s applying pressure to a torn artery. As an emergency measure, it might sustain life in the moment; that’s crucial. But absent genuine repair, the bleeding is still life threatening.

Why are people sick, hungry, unhoused and drowning, and what are we doing about that?

Supporting nonprofit organizations that provide vital services is important, but liberative solutions require systemic change, through voice, vote, and advocacy for just policies and opportunities that offer a chance at new life. Locally, I have engaged through our church with ONE Wake and its coalition-based work on issues like affordable housing. Avenues for such grassroots discipleship abound.

Jesus preached true compassion. He also raged against hypocrisy. Google “Jesus” “temple.” In the weeks before we celebrate his resurrection, those of us who claim Christianity again have reason to reconsider our behavior and whether we are answering Christ’s call.

Aleta Payne writes about the intersection of faith, justice, and equity. She lives in Cary and can be reached at aletajpayne@gmail.com .