Luke 6:37-42 · Judging Others
It's Not About Me
Luke 6:39-49
Sermon
by Susan R. Andrews
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In forty years of ordained ministry, I have never preached on this morning’s gospel text, which is a pretty good indication that I have been avoiding it. I have discovered over the years that the texts I ignore are the very ones that most describe me. And when it comes to specks and logs, I am an expert. But then most of us are.

These three parables at the end of Luke 6 are the very end of Jesus’ sermon on the plain — Luke’s version of the Sermon on the Mount. As you may remember in Matthew, Jesus’ most famous sermon takes place on a mountain far away from the crowd — hard and demanding words for just a few — the inner circle — the chosen twelve. But in Luke, this very same sermon is preached down on the plain in the midst of the crowds with equally hard and demanding words but meant for all of us who through the ages have tried to follow Jesus. And what Luke reminds us is that though the call of discipleship is pure gift and pure grace from God, the life of discipleship is hard work. Being Christian demands doing Christian — bearing good fruit, building strong foundations — and most of all connecting with people around us — whether we like them or not.

At the summer Presbytery Gathering at Camp Holmes, we began with open space conversation groups — discussion groups spontaneously created on the spot. About 20 of the 120 people gathered chose to pull their chairs together and talk about conflict in the church — specifically the vast difference of opinion that has occurred in some congregations following the PCUSA General Assembly in Detroit this past June. As you may know, this year’s General Assembly made the New York Times twice in one week. Not only did the 650 elected commissioners vote to make gay marriage an option, but this Assembly also voted to divest in three corporations whose products are used by Israel to carry out the occupation in the Palestinian territories. The gay marriage option passed by a two to one margin but the divestment vote was breathtakingly close — 310 to 303. And lest some of you are upset about either of these votes, rest assured that you don’t have to agree with them. The General Assembly speaks to the church, not for the church, so these public stances are guidance, not law. And yet, in a representative democracy, the majority gets to speak no matter how close the vote.

As is always the case, decisions made at this and other General Assemblies have caused a fallout across the church. In an open conversation, one of our pastors talked about the angry threats that some of his parishioners made following the gay marriage vote — threats to withhold money, threats to split the church, threats to leave. He was asking for wisdom from the other elders and pastors gathered about how to respond to the anger, to the judgment, and to the pain that he was hearing from some of his people.

The next 45 minutes were fascinating and very healing. A variety of folks talked about conflict and differences in their congregations and about how hard it is to be the church when people disagree. The consensus that emerged was that we are not called to agree and we are not called to be all alike. In fact, the very nature of the Body of Christ is diversity — diversity of opinion, diversity of gifts, diversity of identity. Unity is not about uniformity, but about covenant faithfulness to the same Lord we all serve. What makes the church the church is listening, hearing, understanding, and accepting — not judging, arguing, or insisting on our own way. In other words, in the church it is not about me — it is about we.

The pastor who started the conversation was encouraged to reach out and listen to the anger and the pain, but not to allow one or two angry voices to absorb all his attention or take up all of his time. Instead, differences about gay marriage, gun control, abortion, divestment, or whatever issue sparks controversy — these differences provide an opportunity, rather than a threat. These difficult moments offer an opportunity for education, an opportunity for conversation, and an opportunity for everyone to grow bigger in spirit by listening and learning from one another.

That brings us to specks and logs. Just before our morning verses in Luke we hear Jesus say: “Do not judge, and you will not be judged; do not condemn, and you will not be condemned... for the measure you give will be the measure you get back” (vv. 37, 38b). And then to illustrate, he talks about specks and logs: “Why do you see the speck in your neighbor’s eye, but do not notice the log in your own?” (v. 41).

In other words, friends, if you are like me the judgments we make about others are often totally obscured by our own prejudices, our own fears, and our own logs. Most likely, when we are particularly vehement in our judgment of others, we are avoiding a similar vice or fault in ourselves.

How often do we see a smug politician condemning others for sexual immorality, only to discover that this same politician is having a secret affair? How many anti-homosexual activists are secretly afraid that they, or one of their children, are gay? Or how many parents judge their adult children for behaviors or values that they secretly despise in themselves? The apple seldom falls far from the tree. As one writer puts it. “The problem is not other people. The problem is people — and I am one of those people.” We are all part of the problem, and we all need to be part of the solution.

The situation unfolding in Israel and Gaza just becomes more horrifying by the day. And this is the third time in eight years that Arabs and Jews have destroyed each other in that tiny strip of arid land on the Mediterranean coast. Thousands of years of hatred and religious strife and geographic rivalry have planted huge logs in the eyes of the Israelis and in the eyes of Hamas. And yet their feelings, needs, and fears are the same — as is their yearning for security in a land of their own, with freedom and prosperity and a future for their families. And yet the death toll just continues to grow. The vast majority of them are innocent civilians and a horrifying number of them children. The conflict is so bitter and the hatred is so deep that any chance of resolution seems impossible. And it is impossible as long as each side fixates on the speck in the other side’s eyes instead of taking the enormous logs out of their own.

What the Middle East needs and what our contentious congregations need is a good dose of Jesus. It is what bickering families need. It is what we all need. Not a doctrinal — I’m saved and your not — Jesus, but the earthy, tough, transforming Jesus we hear about today. The unique power of the Christian faith is not what we do but how we do it. The teachings of Jesus offer an alternative vision and a countercultural ethic that turns conventional wisdom on its ear. Not war, but peace. Not judgment, but respect. Not one-upmanship, but community. Not either/or — either my way or your way — but both/and — a third way that respects our differences and embraces our diversity. We need a new way that loves enemies, endures pain, and transforms suffering — a both/and way that creates a world together that is better than anyone of us can create alone.

Several years ago, the two Presbyterian churches in Middletown, New York, faced a tough decision. Located one block from each other, both churches were struggling with aging buildings, diminishing resources, and older memberships. It slowly dawned on them that two churches so close together made no sense, and their struggles to survive were preventing each congregation from serving the needs of their impoverished neighborhood. With presbytery help, they muddled through five years of joint Session meetings, joint planning, and joint worship but neither of them wanted to give up their building. Finally, they voted to merge without resolving the building issue. They just kept struggling with bills they could not pay.

And then, in a moment of courage and wisdom, the new Session took a leap of faith. They voted to put both buildings on the market and give up the building that sold first. By removing logs of judgment about those “other” people, they became clear eyed enough to see a vision of re-energized ministry within the community around them. It was a vision realizing that flesh and blood was more important than bricks and mortar.

The newer of the two buildings was eagerly purchased by a thriving Latino-Pentecostal congregation. The older building has been spruced up and become home to a blended congregation of renewed Presbyterians, who have learned to love each other. But much more importantly, their newly opened Thrift Shop and Food Pantry is transforming the neighborhood around the church. Conflict has been transformed into community, and judgment has been transformed into justice and joy. Thanks be to God!

A few years ago, I heard one of our Presbyterian mission workers tell a story about his work in Africa. He was serving in a sub-Saharan country that was in conflict with one of its neighbors. The fight, as it usually is, was over land, resources, and tribal rivalries that pitted one country against the other. This mission worker remembered one particularly violent clash where soldiers and rebels were massacring each other in growing numbers. But in the midst of it all, there was a tableau of peace and understanding, of human contact and human love.

At the border of these two countries a small number of mothers from each rival nation were standing, facing each other through a crude fence. As gunfire erupted all around them, these mothers were quietly passing their babies through the fence, and they were nursing each other’s children. Somehow, these women were able to take the logs out of their own eyes and see the specks of light in their enemy’s eyes. And with the very milk of kindness they were nourishing hope for their children’s future.

Friends in Christ, with God’s help and with a strong foundation of community and gospel values, we Jesus people are called to bear rich fruit in our communities and around the world. Let us continue to clean out the specks and logs from our eyes so that the light of Christ can be seen clearly in who we are and what we do.

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