When Wisdom and Love Bond

Epiphany 7A; Lev. 19:1-2, 9-18; Matt. 5:38-48; St. Paul’s, Smithfield, NC 2/19/17

Jim Melnyk: “When Wisdom and Love Bond”

The story is told how “in a [certain] ancient eastern country, there was a tradition that the estate of the family would be divided among the children in a specific way: one half to the eldest child; one third to the second child; and one ninth to the youngest child. 

There was a man who owned seventeen camels. When he died, there was much bickering among his children.  How would they divide the camels among them? The math is difficult, not to mention what splitting might do to the camels! 

Finally, in desperation, the three children went to the local priest. The wise old priest quietly said, “I have one camel. Why don’t you take it?” And he gave them his camel. 

So now, with eighteen camels, the oldest child took one half, or nine. The second child took one third, or six. And the youngest child took one ninth, or two. To the family’s amazement, the sum was seventeen.  Gratefully, they took the eighteenth camel back to the priest” (Synthesis, 2/19/2017).

A colleague who shared this story writes, “When wisdom and love bond together, there is no stronger force” (ibid).

Today’s portion of the Sermon on the Mount includes some of Jesus’ toughest teachings – teachings which require a great deal of wisdom and love on our part if we’re to try to follow them.  As was noted in last week’s sermon, modern day Christians do some rather incredible theological acrobatics to avoid taking much of what we just heard read too seriously – or too literally.  “You want me to love who, Jesus?”  But the fact that the early Church of the late first century did nothing to water down these challenging words is a strong indication of their authenticity; and how much we are meant to at least attempt living them out as they have been received.  Meaning these teachings by Jesus are certainly not for the faint of heart – and that they are most likely offered with the knowledge that we will all too often fail miserably at living up to them.  Perhaps that’s one reason why Jesus will go on to teach what has become one of our most meaningful prayers – a prayer that includes the line: forgive us our trespasses – our sins – as we forgive those who trespass – or who sin – against us.

The late theologian Ronald Goetz once wrote, “The Sermon on the Mount is nothing more or less than the manifesto of the reckless love of God. It is a cloudburst of blessing. It washes away our sins and our need to judge ourselves or others. It opens up a new standard of living, a new way to calculate our profits and losses. It offers us a vision of a new landscape washed clean, made green and glorious by the rain of God” (Synthesis Today, 2/13/2017). 

To be fair, we’ve saddled Jesus with at least one incredibly terrible English translation of the ancient texts.  The text doesn’t actually say, “Do not resist an evil doer.”  A much better translation would be, “Do not repay evil with evil.”  Theologian Walter Wink (Engaging the Powers) expounded upon that by saying, “Do not repay violence with violence,” similar to the words we often hear in our closing blessing on Sundays – “render to no one evil for evil.”  Yet Jesus wasn’t proposing some form of doormat theology.  Wink points out that in his call for us to turn the other cheek, or to give up our cloak, or to go the extra mile “Jesus is offering a way for poor, humiliated people to take the initiative against their oppressors, allowing them to restore a sense of dignity while putting their oppressors off balance—and at the same time offering them opportunities for conversion” (Jim Rice, Sojourners Preaching the Word, 2/23/14).  To me it is Jesus offering us a way to say to the one who seeks to hurt or offend me, “I choose to respond to you as someone who lives in the kingdom of heaven.”

           

When Jesus says, “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love you neighbor and hate your enemy,’ he isn’t quoting Hebrew Scripture – hating your enemy just isn’t in there.  His command to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us was a challenge to those who took the passage in Leviticus, “you shall love your neighbor as yourself,” too lightly.  It’s easier – most of the time – to love our kin, or to love our neighbors who present themselves as people who think, look, act, and speak just like us.  It seems more difficult for many in today’s climate of fear to love the stranger – the sojourner – the alien – among us, and to treat them as we would a fellow citizen, as God goes on to command just a few verses beyond today’s lesson from Leviticus.  It’s easy to love those who love us, and who wish us well.  It’s much more difficult to love those who don’t – especially those who wish us harm.  That’s where the “reckless love of God” steps in and transforms us at the core.

Eighteenth century Anglican priest William Law once said, “There is nothing that makes us love a [person] so much as praying for [them]” (Synthesis Today, 2/17/2017).  Indeed, that’s the whole purpose in praying for our enemy – not so much to transform them, though we would certainly rejoice in the reversal of their animosity towards us.  We pray for our enemy that we might be transformed – that our anger or fear be transformed into the strength and love that might lead us toward reconciliation.

The Good News in all of this is that our faith stories tell us we can choose to follow the commands of Jesus – we can choose to follow God’s commands – God’s hopes and dreams for us.  Remember our lesson from Sirach last week?  In it the author reminded us, “If you choose, you can keep the commandments, and to act faithfully is a matter of your own choice” (Sirach 15:15).  In last week’s alternative lesson from Deuteronomy Moses tells his people, “Choose life so that you and your descendants may live, loving the Lord your God, obeying him, and holding fast to him; for that means life to you and length of days…” (Deut. 30:20).  We get to choose love over hate for ourselves.  Choosing love may not change an adversary’s heart or mind – but we’re not in charge of changing anyone else’s hearts – only our own. 

In Leviticus God tells us to be holy as God is holy.  Why would God tell us to do or be something we could not possibly be?  In Matthew Jesus tells us to be perfect – that is to be whole or complete – even as God is perfect.  Why would Jesus tell us to do or be something we could not possibly be?

More Good News: We are not told to be sure the person in the pew next to us is holy or perfect.  We are not told to be sure the person living across the street, or in the classroom across the hall, or the cubicle in the next building at work, is perfect or holy. 

We’re not told to make sure the person fleeing for her life from halfway across the world is perfect or holy.  We don’t carry the burden of holiness for our families or our friends, for our neighbors, for strangers, or even for our enemies.  Thank God we’re only called to work those things out just for ourselves, and to leave the rest to God.  And if Moses, Jesus, and God say that’s possible for each of us – well, I’m inclined to believe them – and I have to believe that that’s Good News indeed.

I’m more than willing to bet none of us will ever be called to settle a question on how to best divide herd of camels among surviving children; but I am also willing to bet we will always wrestle with the challenge of how we are to live together in community – and perhaps tempted to water down or ignore those commands we find hardest to follow.  But, as it has been said before, “When wisdom and love bond together, there is no stronger force.”  When wisdom and love bond together, we can choose to follow Jesus.