the art of justice

I recently ate at a buffet in Lynnwood and had to roll myself out of the double doors. Thinking back on it, I had to blame, if not myself, then the food. The food was just so good-looking and tasty.

Which got me thinking about basic necessities.

If someone who was poor was given everything he needed in order to survive--that is, food and shelter, even some company--but it did not include something called beauty, would his existence truly be human? If his food came to him in some paper bag, all mashed up into one blob of grub, yes, we could still say that he is being sustained, but would that be justice? We could give him a roof over his head and clothe him in the most holey of holeys, but would he have any standing among us?

In other words, justice and mercy cannot just mean the meanest of a livelihood, the bare scraps to scrape through the day. Justice is wedded to dignity and beauty--the opportunity to share. I think it unconscionable to practice the art of justice without the luscious brushstrokes of jubilee. Justice without beauty is like painting the rainbow with only black and white.