Gospel Ethics

The Lo-Fi Gospel Minute

by

Feb. 26, 2025

Good morning from #RVA where the birds chirp and the coffee pot gurgles. My meds await me, but I have eaten the banana. No, that’s not a metaphor.

Writing is difficult this morning. My usual prompts aren’t…prompting. Instead, I’m just saddened by the amount of understandable despair on The Socials. I need to look elsewhere for inspiration.

But, as barometers go, The Socials are a telling measure of the sense of hopelessness among so many in the United States right now. In my algorithmic corner of Teh Intertubes, people are giving up. They see the GOP led Congress dismantling basic services. They see the President offering “gold cards” to would be oligarchs. Is there a word of hope in such times? Maybe Basil the Great has a word for us.

“When someone steals another’s clothes, we call them a thief. Should we not give the same name to one who would clothe the naked and does not? The bread in your cupboard belongs to the hungry; the coat hanging unused in your closet belongs to the one who needs it; the shoes rotting in your closet belong to the one who has no shoes; the money which you hoard up belongs to the poor.”

This word, though compelling, has never been popular. Even among Christians. It has always been a radical proclamation of Gospel ethics. And it would be easy to pick on millionaires and billionaires. They are obviously at odds with such sentiments. But, the real invitation Basil was offering was to all of us. We are to look in the mirror. What is simplicity? What is charity? What is enough?

This is the word of hope that I need this morning. The ethics of the Gospel have not been taken away from us. In fact, they are essential in such times as ours.

Isaiah 58 reads…

Is not this the fast that I choose:

    to loose the bonds of injustice,

    to undo the straps of the yoke,

to let the oppressed go free,

    and to break every yoke?

Is it not to share your bread with the hungry

    and bring the homeless poor into your house;

when you see the naked, to cover them

    and not to hide yourself from your own kin?

Then your light shall break forth like the dawn,

    and your healing shall spring up quickly;

your vindicator shall go before you;

    the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard.

Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer;

    you shall cry for help, and he will say, “Here I am.”

Lent approaches, and many of us will turn toward sackcloth and ashes. I know I want to. I want to sit in my sadness and deny myself. Liturgical sulking is what I call it. I love liturgical sulking. But this word from Isaiah is haunting me this morning. It continues.

If you remove the yoke from among you,

    the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil,

if you offer your food to the hungry

    and satisfy the needs of the afflicted,

then your light shall rise in the darkness

    and your gloom be like the noonday.

The Lord will guide you continually

    and satisfy your needs in parched places

    and make your bones strong,

and you shall be like a watered garden,

    like a spring of water

    whose waters never fail.

Your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt;

    you shall raise up the foundations of many generations;

you shall be called the repairer of the breach,

    the restorer of streets to live in.

This, I believe, is the only right response to times such as ours. We still live in a democracy. But democracy presents certain distractions of its own. Yes, we should speak out and call our representatives. Certainly. But the work we Christians are called to is the above.

So, I will lament. It is a true response. Yes. And I will work. This too is a true response to such times. I’ll start by looking in the mirror and making some changes in my own life.

Right. That.

Y’all be excellent to each other.

Tripp Hudgins writes "The Lo-Fi Gospel Minute" on Substack. This post is republished with permission. Click here to subscribe.