Uncommon Love
Saint Paul’s Cathedral, San Diego
5 Easter C; May 6, 2007
Scott Richardson +
Uncommon Love
Gracious God,
Let these words be more than words and give us the spirit of Jesus.
Amen.
This came via e-mail earlier in the week:
Dear Scott, I am trying again to convince you that we need to pray for our enemies. I know we do so indirectly, but I wish you would consider saying it straight out where we can’t ignore it. I believe we need to be reminded that the people who want to kill us and destroy our society are just like us… So long as we ignore the essential humanity of our “enemies” we strengthen a culture in which it is okay to encourage (politically, socially, economically) a dualistic view of the world… We need to acknowledge through corporate prayer that the other is in fact us. I think we need to pray corporately for the souls of those who wish us ill and for the strength to wipe thoughts of revenge and retribution from our hearts… You may not agree with my thesis. That would be a good and interesting reason for dialog.” She later adds a quote from Saint Thomas Aquinas: “We must love them both: those whose opinions we share and those whose opinions we reject. For both have labored in search for their truth and both have helped us in finding our own.”
You may or may not agree with the author’s thesis – some of it I concur with and some invites further inquiry (I don’t, for instance, believe the most zealous jihadist and I share the same values). That aside, let me tell you what I really appreciate about this note; the writer understands that Christian faith calls us to uncommon love. Jesus concludes today’s gospel with these words: “All will know that you are my disciples if you have love for one another.” This love, he makes clear in the Sermon on the Mount, is larger than we first assume. “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers and sisters, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.”
Now let’s be honest - this is challenging material. We might be philosophically inclined toward affection for our neighbor, but to love our enemy and to pray for those who persecute us is beyond our normal emotional register. A few have argued that this call to unhindered love is impossible to implement over time, that Jesus offered a beautiful but short-term relational ethic because he believed the world to be coming to a fast end. That’s one theory, unproven, but today’s reading from the Acts of the Apostles reveals that members of the early church frequently missed the point anyway. The anti-Jewish polemic in the text reflects their inability to live in harmony with those who didn’t share their spiritual views, especially in regard to the messianic identity of Jesus.
So this is tough sledding. Before we throw up our hands, however, and declare uncommon love a goal that cannot be approached, let’s return to the oldest strain of teaching offered this morning and reflect on the law code known as the Book of Leviticus. That book, by the way, doesn’t generally offer scintillating reading – at times it’s impenetrable and at other times scandalous, brutal. Today, however, it’s brilliant – it outlines neighbor love with such specificity that faithful readers can’t miss the point. When you harvest your land or your vineyard, you shall not reap to the border or strip it bare but you shall leave gleanings and fallen grapes for the poor and the sojourner, the resident alien in your land. Beyond this, there shall be no stealing, no lying, no profaning, no oppression, no false-dealing, no withholding of wages, no mockery, no injustice, no deference or partiality, no slander, no hatred, no vengeance, no grudges - only love.
God’s people are to be holy because God is holy, and God’s people are to reflect glory because God is glorious, but holiness and glory are not to be thought of as ethereal concerns; they have to do with social conscience, not pietistic posturing. The depth of your neighbor’s misery is God’s measure of you. The pang in his stomach or the ache in her heart is the scale God uses to weigh your commitment to the law of love. So go to church every day - that’s fine; say a thousand prayers a week - that’s good too; read all the spiritual literature you can get your hands on - brilliant; attend retreats and seminars and conferences until your ears fall off - golden; just don’t think you’ve fulfilled the divine call until your neighbor’s need has been met. Mahatma Gandhi insisted on living in voluntary poverty as long as any other person on the planet endured that state involuntarily; that’s a radical position (and not one shared by today’s preacher) but it points to the uncommon love that Christ commends.
And now back to my friend whose e-mail got this homily started. We do, of course, pray for our enemies but we may not do it with sufficient frequency. When Saddam Hussein was executed, we included his name in the Prayers of the People the following Sunday. Some people resonated with this addition, others resisted it. One very dear parishioner was taken aback by my decision, flabbergasted; her response invited further inquiry. How, she asked, could we pray for such a horrific sinner, a mass-murderer, a maniac? How could we not, I responded, especially in light of the gospel admonition to do just that? We don’t pray for people because they’re worthy of our prayers; we pray for people because, like us, they need God’s help and mercy. Saddam still had to face his Creator and account for his life, but we trust the old truth holds – his evil did not and could not trump God’s love.
And the same goes for us, right? Jesus calls us to be perfect even as his heavenly Father is perfect. Try as we might, we’re destined to fall short of the high calling. Our lapses vary in type and magnitude but they all have the same net effect – separation; from God’s glorious vision, from one another, and from our higher angels. Perhaps that’s the truth that finally dooms dualism; we are, none of us, special or blessed or exempt or beyond the fraying consequences of brokenness. As such, we are equal before God; that’s why we celebrate Easter every year and, indeed, every Sunday. We gather to remind ourselves that our brokenness has been healed and the children of God are raised up, not by their own power, but by the One who has all power. May we find him now and follow him forever. Amen
Saint Paul’s Cathedral, San Diego
5 Easter C; May 6, 2007
Scott Richardson +