Photo by Theo Crazzolara

By April Yamasaki

“Fiat justitia, ruat caelum” – Let justice be done though the heavens fall.

When my husband was in law school, this Latin quote was prominently displayed at the front door of the university’s law school building. The ancient roots of this quotation are unclear, but the meaning is unmistakable: Justice is to be done whatever the consequences, even if the heavens should fall.

In the 1930s in Alabama, Judge James Edward Horton made a controversial judgement to overturn the conviction of an African American teenager who had been found guilty and condemned to death for raping a white woman. Well into his second six-year term as a judge, Horton had a reputation for being fair-minded, and in this case his careful consideration of the evidence led him to overturn the conviction and order a new trial — even though he knew his decision might end his judicial career.

When Horton lost the next election, he was asked about the impact of his earlier judgement, and he replied with this phrase: “Fiat justitia, ruat caelum” – Let justice be done though the heavens fall. In terms of his own situation, let justice be done though his judicial career might be over. Let justice be done in spite of the personal and professional cost.

Yet the sad history of this case belies the high-mindedness of the quote. For although Horton had done what he could as a judge, the young defendant was re-tried, re-convicted, and re-sentenced to death. After a number of appeals he was sentenced instead to 75 years in prison, but died of cancer just a few months before his fortieth birthday. It would be many more years until his wrongful conviction would be recognized, and he was posthumously pardoned in 2013.

In this case, justice was not done, and the heavens did not fall. Though Horton had tried to do justice, his decision was only one decision in a larger system of racial injustice. Though he lost his position as judge, there were plenty of other judges to take his place.

Today we still wait for justice — for the end of racial bias, for just judgements in the courts, for people to be treated fairly. Many are doing what they can, just as Judge James Edward Horton did. But the justice we long for is not yet fully realized. With the prophet Amos, we might well lament, “Ah, you that turn justice to wormwood, and bring righteousness to the ground!” (5:7).

Yet along with his lament, Amos also offers a vision of hope: “But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream” (5:24). We’re not there yet, but may we do what we can to “hate evil and love good, and establish justice in the gate” (5:15).

April Yamasaki is an ordained minister with twenty-five years of pastoral ministry experience, and the author of Four Gifts: Seeking Self-care for Heart, Soul, Mind, and Strength; Sacred Pauses: Spiritual Practices for Personal Renewal; and other books on Christian living. She currently serves as Resident Author with Valley CrossWay Church in Abbotsford, British Columbia, and as Editor of Purpose, a monthly magazine of everyday inspiration. For more information, see aprilyamasaki.com and WhenYouWorkfortheChurch.com.