Discipleship's High Bar

Luke 6:27-38

[Jesus said,] “… listen, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. Do to others as you would have them do to you.

“If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. If you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. If you lend to those from whom you hope to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to receive as much again. But love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return. Your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High; for he is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.

“Do not judge, and you will not be judged; do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven; give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap; for the measure you give will be the measure you get back.”

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Leo Correa/Hecht Museum staff via AP

“Please let that not be my child.”

That was the first thing that ran through the mind of Alex Geller, the father of three, who heard a loud crash while visiting the Hecht Museum, in Israel, with his family, this past summer. Much to his shock, surprise, shame, and embarrassment, his youngest son, a 4-year-old Ariel was, in fact, the culprit in the destruction of a 3,500 year-old, clay jar.

The jar – from the Bronze Age – had been on display at the museum for 35 years, and was one of the only containers of its size, from that period, that was discovered, completely intact. The precious, rare artifact dated back to something like 2200 BCE, until POOF, on a summer day last August, it was gone.

“Please let that not be my child.”

The beautiful thing about this story is that, despite the destruction he wrought, the museum curators asked little Ariel and his family to come back to help repair what he’d broken. AND they think it’s still important to keep these sorts of artifacts open and accessible to the public so that, even if it’s risky and even though accidents happen, people can learn by getting up close, to touch, feel, and interact with the history that’s on display in their museum.

And they think all of this could be a teachable moment, for the boy, they said. And I thought it might be a teachable moment for all of us, too.

I thought this story might be a funny, light-hearted, but meaningful way to wonder about the deeper, heavier invitations we hear from Jesus this morning…this stuff about forgiveness, about not condemning, about not judging. And this stuff about “Loving your enemies,” “Doing unto others,” and “Turning the other cheek,” too. All of this seem like pretty high standards of expectation – a high bar of discipleship and faithful living – to be honest.

I mean, does anyone actually do this anymore – love their enemies? I’m not even sure who my enemies are at the moment. Maybe I’m lucky that my enemies seem like far away, hypothetical, existential kinds of foes. I don’t contend with them daily, face-to-face, man-to-man, if you will, in ways that I’d actually have to make a choice, even, to fight them, let alone love them, as Jesus commands.

And what does it mean to “bless those who curse you?” I’m no good at that. Can any of us say we blessed the last person who really ticked us off – and that we meant it? Ignored them, maybe… Walked away from them, perhaps… Cursed them in return or muttered something under our breath, more likely… but blessed them? I don’t think so.

As for the rest of Jesus’ words today … I have driven past the beggar and looked the other way. I expect to get my stuff back when I loan it. I have withheld my coat and my shirt and more … my closets are packed and, frankly, I could use more hangers at the moment.

And what about, “praying for those who abuse you?” How crazy is that? I’ve never been abused in the ways that come to mind when I hear that word – physical, sexual, domestic kinds of abuse, I mean. Did you hear about the trio of miscreants who were arrested, just last month in Greenfield, for a litany of the most awful offenses against children? The sorts of prayers I’d pray this morning, if I were the family of whoever those victims may be, wouldn’t be kind or loving or full mercy and forgiveness, I can almost guarantee you that.

And, honestly, I believe all of this is okay, to some extent – that God understands, I mean. God knows this about me, already. And maybe God knows this about some of you, too – how stiff-necked and broken, how selfish and sinful, how vengeful and vindictive we can be a lot of the time.

What I’m saying is, I take these extreme statements from Jesus – this very high bar that he sets for his followers? – I take it all about as literally as I do some of the other things he says about plucking out our eyes if they cause us to sin, or chopping off our limbs if they cause us to stumble. That kind of stuff is holiness to the extreme – it sounds like crazy talk – it’s virtually impossible, for many of us – it’s really hard work when the rubber meets the road, to be sure.

Love your enemy … Bless those who curse you … Turn the other cheek …

But, as hard as it may be, that doesn’t mean we ignore Jesus’ words altogether – this invitation to forgiveness, to love, to turning, to blessing; it doesn’t mean we don’t strive to achieve those things – somehow … some way … in some measure of time … with God’s help and by Gods’ grace.

What Jesus does today is call us toward a better way, however difficult that might be to achieve. I think Jesus is always inviting us to love, even when it seems impossible; to bless others, even when it’s really hard. I think Jesus is always calling us to mercy and forgiveness even when it goes against our first instinct; or our natural, sinful, selfish inclinations; or even when it goes against what the world would have us do under the same circumstances; and even if we never get all the way there.

I think that’s what life in the kingdom is supposed to look like – something more like the way the museum curators treated Ariel and his family after that accident with the vase.

It’s risky to be alive in the world. Sometimes we’re the ones who are broken and sometimes we’re the ones who do the breaking. And no matter what, God doesn’t have the luxury that Ariel’s dad had – to hope, even for just a second, “Please don’t let that be my child.”

It’s always God’s children who are being broken. It’s always God’s children who are doing the breaking. And it’s always God inviting us to live and to love in ways God’s self – in the person of Jesus – was willing to live and to love – because God knows we’ll be blessed – and because the world will be changed when we do.

So, we can pray for bullies on the playground, in the classroom, and in the cafeteria. We can try to forgive that jerk at the office. We can work at loving those people in our lives who make it so hard sometimes. We can be slower to condemn those with whom we disagree. We can be generous, even if we don’t think someone deserves it. We can practice humility when we want so badly to prove how right we are. We can muster a blessing and mean it.

We can show and receive mercy. We can forgive and receive forgiveness. We can love and be loved, in spite of ourselves.

Because in the end God is merciful, even when we can’t be. God is loving, even when we’re not. God’s grace is more than we can give and always more than we deserve: a good measure, for sure, pressed down, shaken together, running over – for you, for me, and for the world, until we get it right.

Amen

Blessings, Woes, and Wawa

Luke 6:17-26

[Jesus] went down with them and stood on a level place, with a great crowd of his disciples and a great multitude of people from all Judea, Jerusalem, and the coasts of Tyre and Sidon. They came out to hear and to be healed of their diseases, and all those who were troubled by unclean spirits were cured. All in the crowd were trying to touch Jesus, because power came out of him and healed all of them.

Then Jesus looked up to his disciples and said, “Blessed are you who are poor now, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled. Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh. Blessed are you when people hate you and exclude you and persecute you and defame you on account of the Son of Man, rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven. For that is what your ancestors did to the prophets.

But woe to you who are rich now, for you have receive your consolation. And woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry. Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep. And woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is what your ancestors did to the false prophets.

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Pastor Cogan confirmed a rumor we’ve heard about that new construction going on at the southeast corner of U.S. 40 and Mt. Comfort Road these days. Apparently, it’s going to be a WaWa – another convenience store/gas station out of Philadelphia. WaWa also has food, with enough of a menu that you can get breakfast, lunch, and dinner, as part of your gas station experience. But that’s also true of the Speedway across the street and the Leo’s just up the road on your way to Greenfield. (I was hoping for a restaurant NOT attached to a gas station and something without a drive-thru, but no one asked me.)

But did you know there’s some marketing and social science behind the decision to put a gas station across the street from another gas station? That there’s a logic to the capitalistic tendency to put a Lowe’s hardware store very near to a Home Depot; to build a CVS kitty corner from a Walgreen’s; to put a Burger King next to a McDonald’s, next to a Wendy’s, next to a Taco Bell, next to a Chik-fil-A?

The logic, as I understand it, is that it changes the questions that potential consumers ask themselves as they drive around town. When only one potential option presents itself, the question is simply, “Do I need gas, or something from the hardware store, or something to eat?” Those are simple, yes/no questions and easier, cut-and-dry decisions to make.

But when there are similar options available to us, our minds are more inclined to engage the nuance of the potential decision before us. We no longer wonder so much about WHETHER we want or need a particular thing – a simple yes/no question. Instead, we wonder WHICH ONE of the available options is more appealing, and are more inclined to choose SOMETHING, accordingly, whether we need it or not. Sneaky, right? Clever, don’t you think?

It could very well be just me – and my struggle with the Beatitudes whenever they show up – but I feel like Jesus might be up to something similar with this portion of his “Sermon on the Plain,” today, and all of his talk about “Blessings” and “Woes.”

Blessed are you who are poor, who are hungry, who are weeping …

If Jesus ONLY gave us the blessings to wonder about, it would be easy for each of us to see ourselves as recipients of the healing, hope, comfort, joy, and favor, he promises. Who among us doesn’t or hasn’t wished for “more,” to the point that, without some perspective we might think we know what “poor” feels like? And who among us doesn’t know what it is to weep, or to hunger for something other than food, or to be left out, excluded, and misunderstood where faith – or something else may be concerned?

I’ll take that blessing every time and I’ll live in that hope whenever and wherever I can find it, thank you very much.

But Jesus gives us more than one option to think about – more than one perspective to consider – this morning, doesn’t he? To use my gas station example, Jesus sets up this little shop of BLESSINGS right next door to this little factory of WOES, does he not? He proposes this litany of BLESSINGS right across the proverbial street from that other list of WOES so that it’s harder to just drive on by, encouraging us to think more deeply about how they show up in our lives – whether we may want to go there, or not.

And, truth be told, I’m equally – if not more – convicted by the woes than the blessings in Jesus’ beatitudes. I’m not wealthy by the standards of many, but I am rich in ways most of the world cannot fathom. (Woe to me.) I am filled to overflowing – literally and figuratively – and have never known the kind of hunger – literal and figurative – with which so many struggle. (Woe to me.) I find opportunities for joy and light and laughter in this world, even though there is so much to be dismayed about and despairing over, for sure. (Woe to me. And to most of you, too, from what I can tell.)

So, again, if Jesus merely presented us with the WOES as he lays them out today, I could easily wallow in that shame, guilt and sadness, like a pig in slop. Woe, is me.

But, again, Jesus builds this house of WOES, right next door to this little gift shop of BLESSINGS, and inspires me to do more than just drive on by, or to say “yes” or “no” to my first instinct or inclination about how they apply to my life and faith in this world.

And it’s important to notice that this is a conversation and that these are choices meant and made, very specifically, for Jesus’ disciples. Yes, there were multitudes there from all over Judea, from the big city of Jerusalem, and from the coasts of Tyre and Sidon. But when Jesus looked up and started saying these things in particular, we’re told he was speaking directly to his disciples – to those who wanted to follow in his footsteps, to do his bidding, to walk in his ways.

And that’s you and me on our best days, right?

Our lives are a swirl of blessings and woes so extreme that they can be difficult to reconcile – and God knows that. And God knows, too, that we find ourselves on either end of the spectrum of these blessings and woes, depending on what day or minute or moment we decide to take a good, hard look, as Jesus invites us to do, today.

How can we look at the world around us and not wonder who are the rich and privileged? (Global Refuge, which used to be Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Services, had 97% of their funding frozen in the last week or two, leaving refugees stranded instead of saved, as planned. They’ve laid off ¼ of their staff and couldn’t make payroll this week, either so it’s not getting better anytime soon.)

How can we see the poverty of food and the scarcity of resources that exist for so many and not wonder how we might pray and advocate for something better? (The recent halt to USAID funding will impact everything from AIDS testing and education to contraceptive healthcare to food and medical assistance for some of the most vulnerable people on the planet – including our friends in Haiti.)

And how can we see the weeping and mourning of others and not do whatever we can to provide comfort, peace, and hope in its place? (This is why we plan things like advocacy training workshops around here so that we might make a difference on behalf of people without homes in our own neck of the woods.)

See, I think Jesus lays out these two competing realities – these blessings and woes – side by side before us, as he does – so that we won’t just go about our lives of faith asking simple “yes” and “no” questions, like blind, happy capitalists, on our way to the gas station, or the drive-thru, or the voting booth, or even to church on Sunday morning.

I think Jesus knows and wants us to assume that most of us will have blessings and woes aplenty in this life. And he wants us to wonder about how our blessings impact the woes of others, and vice versa, so that we will see our wants and needs, our blessings and woes, in the context of and in connection with the multitudes of neighbors – all children of God – in the wide world around us.

And I think Jesus wants us to ask better questions. Not merely IF or WHETHER we’ll step up and step out in faith to love our one another, for God’s sake, but WHEN and WHERE and HOW. And he wants to watch us do something to turn the tables – to create more blessings where there seem only to be woes – for us and for others, on this side of heaven, in his name.

Amen