Luke 6:27-36 · Love for Enemies
God’s Absurd Answer
Luke 6:27-38
Sermon
by Susan R. Andrews
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In a stunning biblical slap in the face, our gospel reading for this morning also served as the lectionary text ten days after 9/11 — ten days after Ground Zero became a devastating reality in our nation’s history. Love our enemies? Offer forgiveness? God, you have to be kidding!

That first week after 9/11 — after the terror struck — after our world changed forever — I kept reading about other ministers who were preaching about forgiveness. “How can they do that?” I asked myself. You see, I simply was not there. At that point, all I could do was grieve, cry, and worry — and rage in aimless ways at the monsters who did this. Now, years later, with feelings more modulated, with a nation transformed and reshaped in a way we could not have imagined, and with the shadows of terrorism still assaulting our world, I find myself drawn to the impossible teachings of our faith. In Luke’s ancient words, and with God’s sobering wisdom, we are being called to figure out what forgiveness and what loving our enemies means. We are called to figure what it means today, while bodies are still being blown up all over the world.

It is an ugly thing when religion turns violent, and it is a sad thing. God is twisted into a grotesque caricature — a demagogue feeding the bloodthirsty anger of narrow minds — a cosmic fanatic creating human fanatics here on earth. Fanatical Christians roaming around abortion clinics and calling homosexuals demeaning names. Fanatical Jews pulverizing Palestinian homes built on land owned by Arabs for generations and killing children who are only throwing rocks. Fanatical Muslims using innocent passengers as ammunition for horrendous death, killing teenagers in Jerusalem, and teaching their children to hate Jews and destroy Israel. Isn’t it strange that the three world religions who claim Abraham as their father should all have the same problem? All three religions have spawned ideological fanatics who have somehow forgotten that according to scripture, Abraham was not allowed to kill Isaac? Why? Because a good and gracious God intervened.

It’s so easy to decide that as Christians we are better than the Muslims or Jews. After all, they keep waging “holy war” and proclaiming that God vanquishes evil through the sacrifice of soldiers and martyrs. But my friends, sit down and read the Old Testament. Sit down and read the Passion Story in the New Testament and you will find enough blood and guts to last you a lifetime. Chapter after chapter in Kings and Judges, in the prophets and the psalms talk about God slaughtering the enemy through the bravery of the Israelites — tens of thousands at a time. And then there is that awful verse in Psalm 137 when the exiled people of God are lamenting their devastating lives and they dream about revenge. They dream about how happy they will be when they take the babies of their enemies and dash them against the rock. Quite simply in all religious history there is a wide spectrum of human emotion and action. Again and again, we see “holy” scripture being used to feed human hatred. Because God is often described through the perspective and experience of sinful people, we find primitive and partial interpretations of God portraying the holy one as bloody and violent.

And yet we are learning that violence is not the main message of the Koran. Nor is it the main lesson of the Bible. In many of the psalms, in the lyric poetry of Isaiah, in the patient wisdom of Job, in the stories of Moses, David, Hannah, and Miriam, and in the earth-shattering story of Jesus, we meet a different God. We meet a more mature God who refuses to let death ever be the answer for life. If we get stuck in the primitive, violent portraits of God we will be primitive and violent in our contemporary actions. But if we look at the whole biblical story and if we accept the moral and historic evolution of God and God’s people, we will learn different ways of responding to the evil in our world. The foundation of the Christian answer to evil, hatred, violence, and unspeakable destruction is — believe it or not — love and forgiveness, reconciliation and restoration. It is a resurrected sense of human community arising out of the fragmented ashes of a violent world. Yes, according to our crucified and resurrected Lord, the best way to honor those who have been destroyed through war and terrorism is to love our enemies, do good to those who hate us, bless those who curse us, to refrain from judgment and retaliation, and to honor the dead by refusing to hate or abuse those who killed them. It isn’t easy to be a follower of Jesus.

Friends, as we look back over the last fifteen years, it is clear that we are still struggling to live out a Christian response to the violence and evil that exploded on 9/11. Though our military strength has routed out the leaders of Al Queda, the cost of two wars has ripped the fabric of our national life to shreds. Though there is more interfaith conversation and exploration than ever before, we still see fear and misunderstanding of our Muslim and Jewish neighbors restricting the fullness of our lives. And in the midst of major economic, political, and environmental crises, we are pulling apart rather than working together as the universal family of God’s people. Perhaps the best way we can remember the victims of irrational terrorism is to recommit ourselves to model a different way of living — to be merciful as God in heaven is merciful — to do the hard work of reconciliation, re-creation, and resurrection in a world still steeped in death. We need to do this not just as citizens on a national level, but as Christians on a local level.

Within our contemporary Protestant American world, conflict, anger, and tension is causing deep divisions within the Body of Christ. In the Presbyterian church, our thirty-year struggle to understand and fully welcome the gay and lesbian community has led to the departure of dozens of congregations and incensed brothers and sisters who can’t believe that gay ordination and gay marriage is now a choice for those pastors, sessions, and congregations who understand God’s grace to be all inclusive. How can Presbyterians read the same scripture in two such opposite ways? How can we interpret sin so differently? The financial and emotional brokenness that these decisions have brought about has torn asunder the Christian community. But, my friends, disruption, conflict, and confusion are nothing new within the Christian church — starting with those early followers of Jesus.

Jesus’ words this morning confront us in the midst of our divisions, suspicions, and brokenness. In his most famous sermon, Jesus beseeches us to: “love our enemies, do good to those who hate us... pray for those who abuse us... be merciful as our Father in heaven is merciful.” My friends, let us remember what “love” means in the New Testament. It does not mean affection, respect, or a warm, fuzzy feeling. No, in the gospel of Jesus Christ, love — agape — is a moral choice. It is an act of the will. It is the resolute and gut-based decision to will and wish the best for the other no matter what. Love is the decision to find the image of God in our enemy and respond gracefully to that image for the sake of God and for the sake of life. And whether we like it or not, whether we understand it or not, love and forgiveness are God’s absurd answer to the devastation of these days.

Two contrasting experiences in my own life have helped me understand the difference today’s gospel lesson can make.

In the mid 1990s — in between the First and Second Intifada in Israel/Palestine — I took a trip to the Holy Land with a small group of Christians. We worked through the Middle East Council of Churches to set up a balanced trip, with a Palestinian Christian as our guide. We visited Yad Vashem, the Holocaust Museum in Jerusalem then talked with leaders of a Jewish settlement and with leaders from the Knesset. The second half of the trip we traveled through the West Bank, living with Palestinian Christians and visiting unrecognized villages where Palestinian homes and olive groves had been illegally destroyed by Israeli soldiers. It saddened our small group to see the mutual hatred and anger brewing between these two peoples.

One day we went to Hebron and visited a holy site that is sacred to both Muslims and Jews — one half of the sanctuary has become a mosque and the other half is a Jewish synagogue. Our Arab guide went to speak to the Israeli soldier guarding the entrance to the synagogue in order to gain entry to the space. Soon an argument broke out between the two of them as the soldier resisted our visit, distrusting our Palestinian guide. As they shouted at each other with bitter anger in their voices, I couldn’t help notice that with their dark Semitic hair and skin, these two “enemies” looked like twins. In a modern twist on the Cain and Abel story, I began to understand how so much hatred had grown between two peoples who are so much alike.

However, a contrasting experience ten years later has given me some hope. Several years after 9/11, I attended an interfaith peace conference in Washington DC. It began with a powerful worship service that involved the participation of Muslims, Christians, and Jews. The service concluded with a candle lighting ritual. The mother of one of the 9/11 terrorists and the mother of one of the 9/11 victims stood side by side and read a litany of forgiveness and peace. Then each of them took an individual lighted candle and together lit one central candle — a clear sign that life is victorious over death and love is victorious over hate.

Following Jesus is difficult and asks us to take our deepest emotions and put them at the service of God’s mercy and love. The good news of Jesus Christ is often hard news. Friends, let us believe and may God help our unbelief.

May it be so. Amen.

CSS Publishing Co., Inc., God with skin on: Cycle C sermons for Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany based on the gospel texts, by Susan R. Andrews