“Balancing”
The Seventh Sunday after
the Epiphany
23 February 2014
Saint Francis
Lutheran Church
San Francisco,
California
Leviticus 19:1-2, 9-18
Psalm 119:33-40
I Corinthians 3:10-11,16-23
St. Matthew 5:38-48
INI
Hatred given for
hatred
I presided at a wedding last evening – a marvelous affair at
which I represented the Christian tradition and a Cantor represented the Jewish
tradition. Afterwards seated at
the sit down dinner, I was speaking with an Episcopal Deacon seated next to me. “Have you been watching the Olympics?”
she asked, opening a break from what we had been talking about. (And here I had sort of an
Out-of-the-Body experience as I watched and listened to my words behaviors in a
somewhat surprised mode) “No!” I
exclaimed. “No, I don’t watch the
Olympics.” (There was a pause, and
I went on to explain with no small bit of passion.) “I moved here in 1981,
right around the time of the first gay Olympics, and I saw what the U.S.
Olympic Committee did to the men and women who had organized the games,
specifically the suit that involved Dr. Tom Waddell, who lost his house, and I
think his life as a result.” As a
lesbian she understood and the topic was dropped. I, for one, was stunned at my on-going emotions about this.
So, I won’t be going to Arizona any time soon, unless the
governor of that state sees the light.
I won’t eat at Chik-fil-a, nor order a Domino’s Pizza. I won’t shop at Lowe’s, or was it Home
Depot, nor at Target (what did they do again)? I do this with the same fervor with which I refused Shell
gasoline over apartheid, and Denny’s over racism. I once convinced a national board that I chaired not to have
a major convention in Virginia, and I’d do it again. I wonder if my anger has turned into madness? Into the heart of my anger and my
frustration about the world in which we live – into that heart God speaks:
“You shall not
hate in your heart anyone of your kin; you shall reprove your neighbor, or you
will incur guilt yourself. You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge
against any of your people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself: I am
the LORD.”
My kin? My neighbor? My people? It is quite explicit isn’t it – my kin, my neighbor, my
people. Where is the “they” that I
like to rail against so much. For
Leviticus (how ironic) there is no “they”, no “them”, only kin, neighbor, and
people. In an ancient world of
blood vengeance and feuds, we still live with the results of these ancient
insults and responses and an unending hatred.
At the root of
things
In the Gospel for today, Jesus is a true radical. He wants to get at the root, the radix, of things. He tells old stories of hatred and
reprisal. “You have heard it
said,” he reports and then goes on to completely radicalize the Law upon which
ancient hatreds were based. This
was a world of the lex talionis, of
an “eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.” And we need to understand that even in this harsh
environment there was an attempt at balance. It was an eye, only an eye for an eye, not a death, or a
life of slavery. It was a world of
enemies and friends, and you hated the enemy. But Jesus says something different. “Love your enemies.” Again, ironically, Leviticus weighs in
again noting how we are to actually treat those that are different from
us. They are not to be driven
outside of our communities, but rather invited in. They, the poor, the alien, the “not one of us”, the people
different from us, the outside – these are invited to the same field from which
draw our sustenance and invited to share the gleanings, the parts left over,
for them.
And here, based on these biblical examples, my angry heart wants to
deliver a blistering attack about the bankruptcy of our national policy on
immigration, or how the poor are treated, or how I ignore the homeless, oh, the
list goes on. However, it is I who
need to hear Jesus’ words. “Love
your enemies.”
Recall the rhetoric, which we often used to describe those who were
against us as we fought discrimination in the Church. They were benighted, they were not fully involved with what
the Gospel required, they were missing the point, they were wrong.
In Jesus’ demand, “turn the other cheek”, he does not ask us to walk
away from the fray and to assume a disinterested stance. No, he would have us meet the situation
with love, unreserved love. Nor is
it a love that cannot speak, not only its name but its objections as well. Jesus calls us to reprove those who do
our society a great wrong, “with justice you shall judge your neighbor.”
It calls for a balancing, doesn’t it? It calls for some wisdom, some understanding. It calls for something outside of our selves.
Holiness
In the third century, Tertullian observed something that pagans were
saying about Christians. “See how
they love one another,” he reported.
On Maundy Thursday, at the Last Supper, Jesus models a different kind of
rabbinic behavior when he teaches by getting on his knees and washing the feet
of his students, and then he says something about what he has just modeled,
“I give you a new commandment: love one another. As I have loved you, so you also should
love one another. This is how all will know that you
are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”
If there is a behavior that describes the Christian it is
this behavior of loving the other.
It is a love that is not limited by the belief or the behavior of the
other. It is love given as once
given first to us, and it is given to any and all. So then the question becomes, how do I balance my reproof of
my neighbor when he or she is doing wrong, with my love of them? Hard, isn’t it? Perhaps Leviticus has another answer
for us.
Leviticus calls us to live in holiness. The author unequivocally states, “God
is holy – therefore you must be holy as well.” Holiness talk always sets Lutherans on edge. It smacks of the semi-Pelagian attitude
that allows that we might participate in our own salvation. Holiness is a gift of God, not
something that we might obtain on our own, yet. Here the Bible clearly calls us to holiness.
And what is God’s holiness? Recall with me the young lawyer who wonders, “What must I do
to be saved?” Jesus quickly
responds with the Great Shema of Israel:
You shall love the
Lord your God with all your strength and might, and you shall love your
neighbor, as you love yourself.
There’s that pesky neighbor again, requiring our attention
and our prayer. And there is that
pesky “self” as well, requiring an equal amount of love and respect. Ah, people of the reformation,
understand the forgiveness that you once released to the world, and understand
the forgiveness that is (as Saint Paul calls it in the second reading) a
foundation in Christ.
Will I travel to Arizona? Maybe. Will I
eat a Chick-fil-a? Probably
not. I am reminded of a story that
keeps coming into my mind. I was
walking down the street in Berkeley, when I noticed that the ACLU was doing
some street work, asking people to donate money for work on LGBTQ issues. I had my collar on, and as I caught the
eye of one of the woman polling the street, she quickly looked away. I walked on, but quickly realized that
I had to go back. “You don’t want
to talk to me, do you?” I asked
her. “No,” she said, “I’ve had
enough hatred for one day.” And
then she related how another clergyman had derided her for the work she was
doing that day and consigning her to hell. So I talked with her, shared my story, and asked her to give
any other people who might give her trouble a second chance - a chance to tell
her story. I had to turn around
and go back. I couldn’t
avoid. I had to speak to the
situation.
Some questions:
Can you accept the forgiveness that allows you to appear in holiness
before the God who loves you? Can
you accept the holiness and forgiveness that is given by God to those who don’t
agree with you? Hard, isn’t it? Let us forgive ourselves, as Christ has
forgiven us, and let us keep up the words that make for Good News telling. Those words may not always be heard,
but someday they will. Those words
of grace are the cheek that we turn, our response to an ungracious world. Remember, my kin, my neighbor, my people.
SDG
