Tennis shoes tax stamina for justice - a child denying himself the glory of name brand sneakers for a lesser brand that was probably not made by exploited children, exhibits the true spirit of justice - Brief Article - Column

National Catholic Reporter, Oct 31, 1997 by Angela A. Liston

A friend recently shared with me her resentment that this "justice thing" was being pushed down her throat. "Maybe," she said, "maybe the Holy Spirit is leading me somewhere else. Maybe I am not led to the work of justice." Maybe.

We are inundated with commands to do justice, be just, act justly and promote justice. We hear it from the pulpit and we hear it in our prayer groups, until the idea of"justice" becomes as commonplace as the idea of loving one's neighbor -- as commonplace but less understood. To love our neighbor we know we have to feed, clothe, house and visit them -- we think we understand the requirements.

But is "acting justly" part of loving our neighbor? Must not love manifest itself in the pursuit of justice? Would my friend say, "I'm tired of being told to love my neighbor! Maybe I'm not called to the work of loving others."

Isaiah didn't mince words telling what God requires of us: "This, rather, is the fasting that I wish: Releasing those bound unjustly, untying the thongs of the yoke; setting free the oppressed, breaking every yoke. Sharing your bread with the hungry, sheltering the oppressed and the homeless; clothing the naked when you see them and not turning your back on them."

But maybe Isaiah was wrong and my friend was right. If we take food to the food bank and blankets to the homeless shelter, isn't that enough? Do we really have to worry about whether the politicians we elect are legislating justly? Do we have to worry about whether the child who made our tennis shoes is receiving a just wage? Do we have to care that God is calling women to the ordained clergy and that some people deny the validity of that call? If we are not racists, do we have to confront those whose racism feeds injustice?

The questions go on relentlessly, and I am beginning to share my friend's aggravation. I'm suddenly tired just thinking about this "justice thing." In my youth, justice wasn't part of the equation -- and I felt smug in my child's eye view of my success at loving my neighbor. More important, my "neighbors" lived in my neighborhood, on my block. Back then, "doing justice" and "loving your neighbor" all seemed part of a manageable set of obligations.

Today my own child doesn't have the luxury of a child's eye view. In his global neighborhood, he is already inundated with the requirements of justice.

On a recent trip to purchase soccer shoes, he had a choice between an unknown brand (which may or may not have been made by oppressed workers) and a more famous brand that he knew had a track record of abuses in Third World factories. He desperately wanted the more attractive, the more famous, more hip brand of shoe -- a status symbol of tremendous importance among today's youth -- and he was torn.

I quietly said to him, "You must weigh this for yourself. You know that this company pays children $1.60 per day to make these shoes and that these children are sometimes physically punished. You must decide for yourself how important these shoes are to you. If you buy them, you buy them with this knowledge." He bought the lesser brand, and no more was said, but he was clearly proud of his decision.

On the one hand, I am terribly proud of him for putting his love of neighbor, this "justice thing," before his need to be cool -- a pretty strong need in a 10 year-old. On the other hand, if he must face the work of justice now, I wonder how weary he will be, by the time he is an adult, of being admonished to "do justice."

In answer to her question, I told my friend, "Of course the Holy Spirit is leading all of us to the work of justice," and I pray that I correctly understand the role of the Spirit. Our neighborhood has grown so large, its injustice so great that the strength and energy needed to pursue this "justice thing" is possible only with the grace of the Holy Spirit.

Angela A. Liston lives and writes in Eagle River, Alaska.