I often hope that today will be the day I finally “take that long walk” or “end the war.” We have a tendency to speak to ourselves in these grand, sweeping terms, but when our dreams are untethered from reality, they often wither before the sun sets.
Perhaps the path to justice doesn’t begin with a marathon, but with a simple observation of the world immediately surrounding us. I should wake up asking whether that is a cherry tree or a dogwood in the neighbor’s yard and then actually walk outside to check it out. It is in these small, grounded moments that we reconnect with the humanity we are trying to save.
Instead of exhausting my spirit trying to change the mind of a President or solve a geopolitical crisis from my living room, I should look for ways to support the victims of those very conflicts who live right next door. I think of my friend who immigrated from Iran. He has been a proud U.S. citizen for many years, but in the shadow of current events, I find myself wondering what he carries in silence. Perhaps the most radical act of justice I can perform today isn’t a protest, but a phone call—inviting him to lunch just to listen to how this conflict affects his soul.
There is a wonderful, hilarious wisdom in the movie What About Bob? Bill Murray’s character is famously counseled to take “baby steps” to overcome his paralyzing fears. While the film is a comedy, the underlying principle is a powerful truth: we have a much better chance of overcoming injustice by taking small, deliberate steps rather than trying to sprint toward a finish line that feels a thousand miles away.
Lent is not about achieving perfection in forty days; it is about the discipline of turning. If we spend the season waiting for the opportunity to perform a “grand gesture” for humanity, we may miss the quiet, suffering Christ standing right in front of us. By choosing the “baby step” of a shared meal or a neighborly conversation, we trade the ego of the “great reformer” for the humility of the “faithful friend.” Justice, after all, isn’t just a policy to be changed—it is a relationship to be restored. This Lent, may we have the courage to stop staring at the horizon and start looking at the person across the table.
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