It only takes
about two sentences of Jesus’ preaching this morning to get me riled up and
mad. Of course, that’s Jesus for you: Never
content with the status quo, always poking at it for more generous justice,
more abundant relationship, more God and less us….
He’s a pain in
the neck because he keeps wanting to reinvent the rules and customs that we live by.
So my reaction
is probably very much what a lot of people felt that same day that Jesus first
said this. And I’ll bet I’m not the only
one in the centuries since then to be upset about it.
I like to think
I’m a big fan of the kingdom
of God
But then today
he says,
Do not resist an
evildoer.
Turn the other
cheek. Go the extra mile.
Give to
everyone, love your enemies.
Most of it
sounds nice and generous, but it’s dangerous stuff.
Loaded with
dynamite.
Over two hundred
centuries, how many abused women, slaves, and minorities have had “turn the
other cheek” preached to them as a lesson not to rock the boat, to accept the
abuser and the oppressor as holy and right?
I shudder to
think.
“Go the extra
mile” and “love your enemies” can be just as dangerous when preached and
applied to the powerless. And it boggles
my mind to think of God’s living Word announcing that we should “not resist an
evildoer.”
So I’m mad.
I want to march
up to Jesus and demand to know why we’re supposed to let evildoers run rampant.
After all,
that’s already the way of the world we live in – think North Korea, the recent
abuse of stand your ground laws, West Virginia’s water supply (or, rather lack
of safe water!), Wall Street bailouts – you could probably name more.
All of those
result from a long unspoken policy of not resisting evildoers. In fact, for the most part, we don’t even use
the word evil to describe the actions that produce these things.
This is
dangerous stuff, what Jesus says today.
I’ll readily
admit it has its benefits, too.
The advice about
exaggeratedly generous responses to physical violence, aggressive lawsuits, and
conscription has inspired some incredibly powerful non-violent resistance that
has changed our world for the better, over and over.
Even more
effective would be learning to love our enemies – not like them, but love them,
so that we genuinely want what’s best for them – learning that could transform
our individual lives and our entire political world in ways that lead to peace
and mutual respect.
But I can’t get
over that idea of not resisting evildoers; and the vast unrewarded generosity
that Jesus is preaching makes me a little uneasy considering that last week,
thanks to Judy, we thought about making “yes” really mean Yes! with all our hearts, and saying a real “no” to the things that
drain and destroy us.
Although, as I
think about it, that might be part of the answer I’m looking for.
Saying “no”, and
meaning NO, to the things that drain
and destroy does mean saying no to actions or even dreams of revenge,
saying no to
things that escalate violence or division,
saying no to
anger with our enemies and indifference to those outside our safe communities.
Jesus is
preaching a real “Yes!” to generosity, a Yes fueled by the inspiration of God’s
own holiness, God’s unprejudiced generosity, God’s desire for relationships of
love instead of hate or fear.
It’s a tall
order to be perfect as God is perfect, even with careful scholarship to point
out that perfect doesn’t mean flawless, here, but deeply whole and true to
one’s self and purpose. (Perfect has
always been dangerous language, too, but that isn’t Jesus’ fault, just the
translators.)
But still that’s
our call from God, the foundation upon which all of Jesus’ preaching is
built.
We are
completed, whole, and true to ourselves most of all when we take seriously the
truth of our creation in the image of God, the identity in relationship to God
that God gives us in creation and in baptism.
How often do you
take time to care for that image of God in your soul and body?
How clearly do
you see that self that God has made in wonder and joy?
Do you look for
that lovely, holy image in strangers and friends?
If you don’t do
and see those things now, please, please,
please,
make the time to pray with your reflection in the mirror – read Psalm 139 to
your reflected self.
Please give
yourself the grace of looking for God’s image in your own heart and in the
faces of others.
Please spend
intentional time with the people who see God in you and reflect it back. Seek them out if you don’t know them yet.
And that may, in
the end, be something of what Jesus means in telling us not to resist the
evildoer.
Not to submit to
abuse, or accept oppression, but to be true to the self God calls us to be. To remember that in spite of insults and
abuse, we are wholly worthy of and responsible for bearing the image of God in
our bodies and selves.
Abuse and
oppression create the terrible belief that the victim has brought the violence
or injustice on themselves. The perfect
image of God within us denies that dangerous and powerful delusion with the
loudest possible voice, calling out that we are holy and worthy of respect and
care.
Resistance –
violence for violence, revenge for insult – warps our souls into the image of
the evildoer, and plays in to the evildoer’s power. Knowing ourselves as the
perfect, whole and healthy image of God calls us out of the evildoer’s power
with dignity and grace – a painful, long, long,
difficult and often dangerous process, but the only way to healing.
Love of the
evildoer, of corporate leaders driven to soulless action by culture and
commerce, of unsettled majorities made violent by fear, even of dictators and
oppressors, may even transform the painful contortions of our culture and
generation.
After all, love
leads to urgent action for healthy change, not regulation and resignation.
Such a tall
order, but one that accelerates our world into the kingdom of God
I’m still a
little mad at Jesus.
And oh, how I
wish he’d never said to not resist the evildoer.
Because if
they’re cut loose from the heart and spirit of God, those are still such
dangerous, even appalling words.
But when they
resonate with the awesome image of God within and among us, they’re a holy risk
and challenge, one we face together, not alone.
We have each
other to call out and respect the image of God in us,
and in our
enemies,
and we have the
abundant generosity of God to fuel us on the long and uphill road away from
abuse and oppression, hate and fear, violence and division,
in our world and
in our lives.
It’s a long
road, but I’m in. Are you?
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