Reflection on Amos 1:1–2; 5:14–15; 5:21–24

Building a Community of Justice and Beloved Belonging

The book of Amos opens with a thunderclap: “The Lord roars from Zion.” (Amos 1:2)

This image of a roaring God is not one of quiet comfort but of divine urgency. Amos, a shepherd and dresser of sycamore trees, steps out of obscurity with a prophetic message that shakes the complacent hearts of Israel’s privileged. 

The roar from Zion is not a sound of destruction for destruction’s sake. This roar is a response to humanity's wail. These words echo the cry of a God who will not remain silent in the face of exploitation and indifference. God’s voice, fierce as a lion’s, calls a community that has lost its moral bearings back to the covenant of justice and mercy.

Amos 5:14–15 moves from judgment to invitation:

“Seek good and not evil, that you may live… Hate evil and love good, and establish justice in the gate.”

Here, “the gate” refers to the center of public life. This is the place where decisions are made are enacted. For Amos, justice is not an abstract ideal or a personal virtue; it is a public practice. It lives or dies in the way a community treats its most vulnerable members. To “seek good” is to align one’s daily life with God’s dream for the world, to let love shape our politics, our economics, and our relationships.

Then comes the thunderous heart of the book:

“I hate, I despise your festivals… take away from me the noise of your songs… But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.” (Amos 5:21–24)

These are among the most radical words in Scripture. They reveal a God who refuses empty worship. God does not need songs without substance or prayers without compassion. In Amos’s vision, authentic worship is inseparable from social justice. The temple liturgy is judged not by its beauty but by its fruits: do the poor eat? Do the widows have shelter? Do the marginalized find dignity? If not, even the most glorious hymn becomes noise in God’s ears. Once again, as SNAP benefits are at the heart of a national debate, this is a verse that feels very relevant to consider at this moment.

Amos’s voice roars across the centuries. It reminds us that faith cannot retreat into private spirituality or polite charity. The prophet calls us into the hard, holy work of transforming the structures that perpetuate inequality. Justice is not a project for a few activists; it is the lifeblood of a community we are all struggling for that dares to embody God’s love in public.

When Amos declares, “Seek good and not evil, that you may live,” he is pointing us toward abundant life, not merely an existential survival, but communal flourishing. God’s vision is not punitive but restorative: to create a society where everyone belongs, where peace and fairness flow like an endless river.

The task before us, then, is both spiritual and systemic. To pray is to act; to worship is to work for change. Every community of faith is called to become a “justice gate”. We long for a place where decisions honor human dignity. When will the poor be lifted up? When will mercy and righteousness embrace?

May we, like Amos, hear the roar of divine compassion in our own time.
May we let that roar awaken us to the truth that the holiest offering we can bring to God is not merely incense or song, but a people living together in righteousness and justice that flows without end.