The sun shines on both the evil and the good? God sends rain on both the righteous and unrighteous? What?! One response might well be that longstanding complaint of children everywhere, for indeed we are all children of God. It’s just not fair! But wait, it gets much worse. Did you really listen to Psalm 73.

Let me use another version, Eugene Peterson’s modern paraphrase in The Message). It begins: "No doubt about it! God is good–good to good people, good to the good-hearted." Here’s one of the oldest, traditional teachings about God. God is good… especially, God is good to good people. But… and it’s a big "but"… that’s not how the world seems to work. Listen as Peterson’s paraphrase continues…

But I nearly missed it, missed seeing [God’s] goodness.

I was looking the other way, looking up to people

At the top, envying the wicked who have it made,

Who have nothing to worry about, not a care in the whole wide world.

Pretentious with arrogance, they wear the latest fashions in violence.

Pampered and overfed, decked out in silk bows of silliness.

They jeer, using words to kill; they bully their way with words.

They’re full of hot air, loudmouths disturbing the peace.

People actually listen to them–can you believe it?

Like thirsty puppies, [people] lap up their words.

What’s going on here? Is god out to lunch? Nobody’s tending the store.

The wicked get by with everything; they have it made, piling up riches. [Ps 73:2-12]

Why do the wicked seem to win so often? There are no guarantees for the pure in heart, but the wicked… They seem to have it made. The psalm offers an honest look at the world… and an honest expression of envy as the psalmist looks upon the wicked in the midst of their successes. It’s just not fair they are also the beautiful people, so free from everyday troubles. It’s just not fair they are so full of themselves. It’s just not fair they are so popular, so praised in their success, so at ease in the "lifestyles of the rich and famous."

The old teaching is true–God is good to the upright. But we must not be naive about how the world works. At times we Christians are too simplistic in our theology. Bad things do indeed happen to good people, and good things do indeed happen to bad people. And it doesn’t matter how often we’ve been told "Fairness has nothing to do with it," or how often we’ve told our children, "The world isn’t fair." There’s a real question here that must be addressed for that old teaching about God to be whole and complete. And the psalmist has it right that envy lies at the heart of the almost visceral reaction we have when things aren’t fair. It starts early when we’re kids. Listen to the voice of a young girl speaking in a children’s book by Charlotte Zolotow titled It’s Not Fair [N. Y.: Harper Row, 1973].

It’s not fair that Martha has long black hair that shines and swings when she moves her head… and mine is curly and tight.

It’s not fair that she sings in perfect key… and I can’t carry a tune at all.

It’s not fair that she never gets freckles in the sun… like I do,

or that she can eat all the ice cream she wants without getting fat.

It’s not fair that she gets all the prizes… when I’m the one who helps her with her homework.

It’s not fair that Martha’s homeroom teacher is funny and lets them talk… but Miss Moyer wants Absolute Silence all the time.

It’s not fair that Martha’s house is easy to play in. You can do anything and it’s all right. But my house is full of fancy furniture and things that break, and everyone has to be careful.

It’s not fair that Martha’s mother likes rock and roll… but mine likes opera and Beethoven. Or that her grandmother lives down the block and makes great candied apples… and mine lives far away and is a lawyer. [continued]

The girl in the story is filled with envy. So is the psalmist. But whereas the book makes it clear that the girl and Martha are friends, the psalmist envies the wicked. And it almost makes him give up. His prayer continues:

I’ve been stupid to play by the rules; what has it gotten me?

A long run of bad luck, that’s what–a slap in the face every time I walk out the door.

If I’d have given in and talked like this, I would have betrayed your dear children.

[Ps 73:13-15]

"When wickedness wins, what’s the point of being good?" the psalmist asks himself. But then he stops. He feels a tug back to another way of seeing, another way of reacting. That tug comes out of his connection to the living community of faith. To keep on complaining–he says–would mean betraying God’s dear children. There’s an important and powerful truth here… that at its best the church, the worshipping community, fosters and maintains the values of God. The psalmist realizes he doesn’t stand alone. His community offers wisdom… and supports him. But even so, he needs something more. Understanding is hard. He still has questions. So he takes continues his prayer to God…

Still, when I tried to figure it out, all I got was a splitting headache…

until I entered the sanctuary of God. Then I saw the whole picture:

The slippery road you’ve put them on, with final crash in a ditch of delusions.

In the blink of an eye, disaster! A blind curve in the dark, and–nightmare!

We wake up and rub our eyes… Nothing. There’s nothing to them.

And there never was. [Ps 73:16-20]

In the sanctuary of God–in God’s presence–the psalmist gets a new perspective on the wicked, and he perceives that regardless of their successes, the wicked too will die. No amount of wealth will prevent that end, and perhaps it will even make it worse. For the wealthy have so much more to lose, so much farther to fall. Who can know what terrors sweep through their lives? From God’s perspective even the richest of the "rich and famous" are as nothing, as fleeting and insubstantial as a dream after you wake up.

Like the psalmist, the girl in Charlotte Zolotow’s book also looks at things from a new perspective as she adds to her long litany of "It’s not fair"–

[It’s Not Fair, continued] It’s not fair that Martha tells me she wants curly hair and freckles… and Miss Moyer for homeroom… and a beautiful house… and a grandmother who is a lawyer not a cook… and a mother who likes classical music.

Maybe she’s just saying this to make me feel better.

But if it’s true, for both of us… it’s just not fair.

The girl is still caught up in the "unfairness" of it all, albeit at a new level involving some degree of empathy. The psalmist moves a little farther along and is led into confession–acknowledging his own envy and his limited perception and understanding. He concludes his prayer…

When I was beleaguered and bitter, totally consumed by envy,

I was totally ignorant, a dumb ox in your very presence.

I’m still in your presence, but you’ve taken my [right] hand.

You wisely and tenderly lead me, and then you bless me.

You’re all I want in heaven! You’re all I want on earth.

When my skin sags and my bones get brittle, God is rock-firm and faithful.

Look! Those who left you are falling apart! Deserters, they’ll never be

heard from again.

But I’m in the very presence of God–oh, how refreshing it is!

I’ve made Lord God my home. God, I’m telling the world what you do. [Ps 73:21-28]

As the psalmist makes his confession, he comes to the realization that even when he was being faithless, full of envy and bitterness, God stayed faithful to him. He was with God, but not because of his own efforts. Rather he is continually with God, for God holds his right hand. God reaches out and takes hold of his hand… and I picture a father taking the hand of his child as they walk through a crowd, or a mother taking her child’s hand as they cross the street. There’s protection here and guidance and caring. The psalmist realizes that God is indeed good to the upright–and good to him. But it’s not because of anything they have or have not done. God is good to them because they are God’s children. Despite his envy of the wicked and his profound ignorance, the psalmist realizes that God has been continually present, holding his hand. For that’s the way God is, ever faithful and abiding in steadfast love for the children of God.

The psalmist’s understanding, however, is still incomplete. He grasps that God remains faithful to him despite his faithlessness. Yet as for the wicked he says, "Look! Those who left you are falling apart! Deserters, they’ll never be heard from again." But what about the psalmist’s own faithlessness, his own desertion? Well, God did not let him go, did not put an end to him. And are not the wicked also children of God?

Here, we need to turn to Jesus’ words. "Love your enemies," he says. Do this so you will know you are God’s children and that they, too, are God’s children. For God blessings of sun and rain are for all of God’s children–whether we are evil or good, whether we are righteous or unrighteous. It’s just the way God is.

Pastor Martin Niemöller, who spent almost eight years imprisoned in the Nazi concentration camp at Dachau, declared sometime after his release: "I do believe that it has been the greatest lesson of my life to learn that God is not the enemy of my enemies. God is not even the enemy of His own enemies." God is not even the enemy of his own enemies. This is the great mystery of God’s justice and grace, united and working together for the salvation of all. We may not understand it, but we all benefit from it nonetheless. We do not get what we deserve. And that’s… just not fair. But fairness has nothing to do with it, thank God. For God’s saving love is gracious, not fair. God’s saving love is just, not fair. Note the comma. It’s just… not fair. Thanks be to God. Amen and amen.