It was a warm summer night in Washington, DC. There were eight friends gathered around a backyard dinner table. They were toasting family and friendship. And everybody was having a good time. Michael, one of the friends, described it in this way: “Kind of one of those great evenings - lots of awesome food and French wine. And it was like a magical night.” Michael was there with his wife and his 14-year-old daughter. And he says it was getting late, maybe around 10 p.m., when it happened.
Michael was standing beside his wife, and saw this arm with a long barrel gun come between them. He said it was like everything was in slow motion, and suddenly got quiet. The man with the gun raised it and held it first to the head of Michael's friend, Christina, and then to the head of Michael's wife, and said, “‘Give me your money.’ Kept repeating, ‘give me your money. Or I'm going to start shooting.’” And they believed him.
But there was a problem. No one had any money. So they started talking, grasping for some way to dissuade the man. They started with guilt. “What would your mother think of you?” And he said something like, I don't have a mother.”
It didn’t look good. Michael was convinced that someone was going to get hurt.
But then one of the women at the table, this woman Christina, pipes up. She has an offer for the man. She said, you know, we're here celebrating. Why don't you have a glass of wine?
And it was like a switch. All of a sudden, Michael says, the look on the man's face changed. The man tasted the wine - and just said to Michael, that's a really good glass of wine. They had some cheese there, too. And so the man he reached down for the cheese. And then he put the gun in his pocket.
The man drank his wine, ate his cheese. And then he said something that no one expected. “I think I've come to the wrong place.” And the friends were all like, hey, I understand.
For a moment, they all sat there together, the stars overhead twinkling, the sound of chirping insects in the night air. And then the man said something just so strange - just said, can I get a hug? Michael’s wife hugged him. And then their friend hugged him. Then he said, can we have a group hug? And so everyone got up and formed a circle around the man. Michael said, “I can't tell you how strange that was. But we all did come around him and hug him. And he said, he was sorry. And he walked out with a glass of wine out the gate.”
Later that evening, after everything had calmed down, they would find the glass neatly placed on the sidewalk by their alley - not thrown, not carelessly discarded - placed. But that was later. At the time, all they could think to do was run into the house and cry in gratitude. Michael said, “It was like a miracle.”
[This story is from the NPR podcast "Invisibilia" - listen to this story and the rest of the episode here.]
It’s not difficult to imagine how this story might have ended differently. What if the friends around the table had yelled or threatened back? What if they humiliated or laughed at the man? What if they responded violently, or if one of them had a gun?
So many terrible endings, and none of them would have been surprising. After all, it’s human nature to mirror the behavior we see, to respond in kind to the actions and attitudes that are shown to us. If someone yells at you, it’s natural to yell back. When someone smiles, you smile. Our emotions and reactions are so in sync with those of the people around us.
Which is why what actually happened was so surprising. And why Jesus’ instructions in today’s Gospel reading are so surprising, and so difficult. “Love your enemies,” he says, “do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you.”
It’s certainly hard to do, but giving the opposite response of what is deserved does more than make us feel good about ourselves for following Jesus’ command. Love, doing good, blessing, and prayer are transformative actions. They can transform the people who receive them from us, but, more importantly, they can transform us.
The more I learn about people, and about myself, the more I’ve come to think that all bad behavior is rooted in something deeper. Why do people behave badly? It would be easy to say it’s because they’re terrible people, or evil, or ignorant, or angry. But the truth is more complicated than that. I think in most cases, people behave badly because we’re hurting - grief, pain, fear, jealousy - and we don’t know how to deal with it in a healthy way and it comes out sideways.
Which is not to say that this behavior is okay. It’s not. We are the only ones responsible for our actions. There are consequences for the things we say and do, and these consequences don’t magically disappear because we have unresolved issues that explain our behavior or because we have asked for and received forgiveness.
But this realization can help us respond from a place of compassion, to work for healing and reconciliation rather than retribution and punishment. It can help us as we seek to build bridges and make connections, rather than becoming further isolated and separated from those around us.
Jesus is in the business of wholeness, community, relationships. And you don’t get there by feeding into the never-ending cycle of hatred, curses, and abuse. Instead, we can do the opposite, the unexpected, and disrupt the cycle. Love and kind actions instead of hatred. Blessings instead of curses. Prayer instead of violence.
Martin Luther King, Jr. said it this way, “The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy, instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it…Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”
Jesus knew this, of course. (And Jesus was where MLK got it from.) Jesus lived this. Faced with the realization that he had been betrayed by a close friend, knowing that he was going to die, Jesus shared a meal with his friends. Even Judas. He offered some bread and some wine, and showed them in the meal and on the cross and in the resurrection that his kingdom was all about the upside-down, the unexpected, the disruption experienced in love for enemies, doing good to those who hate you, blessing those who curse you, and praying for those who abuse you.
He keeps doing it, too. Even knowing that we are angry, hurting, selfish, and sinful, Jesus shares a meal with us. He offers some bread and some wine - his very body and blood - and invites us to celebrate his radical grace, welcome, forgiveness, and love. He offers it to us, and to everyone. Looking around this table of grace, we find that it is a meal even for our enemies. The body of Christ, given for you. The blood of Christ, shed for you. With this love, this good deed, this blessing, this prayer we are transformed.
Jesus disrupts the cycle of shame, anger, hatred, and fear by offering us himself. Filled with the Holy Spirit and overflowing with the abundance of God’s love, we can show love. Having been forgiven, we can forgive. It’s not easy. It takes practice. It doesn’t always work out the way we plan. It doesn’t always have a happy ending. Even so, God’s transformative welcome and love for us never fail.
Michael was standing beside his wife, and saw this arm with a long barrel gun come between them. He said it was like everything was in slow motion, and suddenly got quiet. The man with the gun raised it and held it first to the head of Michael's friend, Christina, and then to the head of Michael's wife, and said, “‘Give me your money.’ Kept repeating, ‘give me your money. Or I'm going to start shooting.’” And they believed him.
But there was a problem. No one had any money. So they started talking, grasping for some way to dissuade the man. They started with guilt. “What would your mother think of you?” And he said something like, I don't have a mother.”
It didn’t look good. Michael was convinced that someone was going to get hurt.
But then one of the women at the table, this woman Christina, pipes up. She has an offer for the man. She said, you know, we're here celebrating. Why don't you have a glass of wine?
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| Photo by rawpixel.com from Pexels |
The man drank his wine, ate his cheese. And then he said something that no one expected. “I think I've come to the wrong place.” And the friends were all like, hey, I understand.
For a moment, they all sat there together, the stars overhead twinkling, the sound of chirping insects in the night air. And then the man said something just so strange - just said, can I get a hug? Michael’s wife hugged him. And then their friend hugged him. Then he said, can we have a group hug? And so everyone got up and formed a circle around the man. Michael said, “I can't tell you how strange that was. But we all did come around him and hug him. And he said, he was sorry. And he walked out with a glass of wine out the gate.”
Later that evening, after everything had calmed down, they would find the glass neatly placed on the sidewalk by their alley - not thrown, not carelessly discarded - placed. But that was later. At the time, all they could think to do was run into the house and cry in gratitude. Michael said, “It was like a miracle.”
[This story is from the NPR podcast "Invisibilia" - listen to this story and the rest of the episode here.]
It’s not difficult to imagine how this story might have ended differently. What if the friends around the table had yelled or threatened back? What if they humiliated or laughed at the man? What if they responded violently, or if one of them had a gun?
So many terrible endings, and none of them would have been surprising. After all, it’s human nature to mirror the behavior we see, to respond in kind to the actions and attitudes that are shown to us. If someone yells at you, it’s natural to yell back. When someone smiles, you smile. Our emotions and reactions are so in sync with those of the people around us.
Which is why what actually happened was so surprising. And why Jesus’ instructions in today’s Gospel reading are so surprising, and so difficult. “Love your enemies,” he says, “do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you.”
It’s certainly hard to do, but giving the opposite response of what is deserved does more than make us feel good about ourselves for following Jesus’ command. Love, doing good, blessing, and prayer are transformative actions. They can transform the people who receive them from us, but, more importantly, they can transform us.
The more I learn about people, and about myself, the more I’ve come to think that all bad behavior is rooted in something deeper. Why do people behave badly? It would be easy to say it’s because they’re terrible people, or evil, or ignorant, or angry. But the truth is more complicated than that. I think in most cases, people behave badly because we’re hurting - grief, pain, fear, jealousy - and we don’t know how to deal with it in a healthy way and it comes out sideways.
Which is not to say that this behavior is okay. It’s not. We are the only ones responsible for our actions. There are consequences for the things we say and do, and these consequences don’t magically disappear because we have unresolved issues that explain our behavior or because we have asked for and received forgiveness.
But this realization can help us respond from a place of compassion, to work for healing and reconciliation rather than retribution and punishment. It can help us as we seek to build bridges and make connections, rather than becoming further isolated and separated from those around us.
Jesus is in the business of wholeness, community, relationships. And you don’t get there by feeding into the never-ending cycle of hatred, curses, and abuse. Instead, we can do the opposite, the unexpected, and disrupt the cycle. Love and kind actions instead of hatred. Blessings instead of curses. Prayer instead of violence.
Martin Luther King, Jr. said it this way, “The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy, instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it…Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”
Jesus knew this, of course. (And Jesus was where MLK got it from.) Jesus lived this. Faced with the realization that he had been betrayed by a close friend, knowing that he was going to die, Jesus shared a meal with his friends. Even Judas. He offered some bread and some wine, and showed them in the meal and on the cross and in the resurrection that his kingdom was all about the upside-down, the unexpected, the disruption experienced in love for enemies, doing good to those who hate you, blessing those who curse you, and praying for those who abuse you.
He keeps doing it, too. Even knowing that we are angry, hurting, selfish, and sinful, Jesus shares a meal with us. He offers some bread and some wine - his very body and blood - and invites us to celebrate his radical grace, welcome, forgiveness, and love. He offers it to us, and to everyone. Looking around this table of grace, we find that it is a meal even for our enemies. The body of Christ, given for you. The blood of Christ, shed for you. With this love, this good deed, this blessing, this prayer we are transformed.
Jesus disrupts the cycle of shame, anger, hatred, and fear by offering us himself. Filled with the Holy Spirit and overflowing with the abundance of God’s love, we can show love. Having been forgiven, we can forgive. It’s not easy. It takes practice. It doesn’t always work out the way we plan. It doesn’t always have a happy ending. Even so, God’s transformative welcome and love for us never fail.
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