loving our enemies (a sermon on Luke 6:27-38)

Our Gospel reading this week continues with Jesus’s Sermon on the Plain. Like with the Beatitudes last weekend, here we get even more examples of the upside-down nature of the kingdom of God. In particular, we get the instructions from Jesus to love our enemies, do good to those who hate us, bless those who curse us, and pray for those who abuse us. 

At first glance, the takeaway from this list might be that suffering is just an unfortunate by-product of being a Christian. “Well, we’re supposed to love everyone, and that must mean letting them take advantage of us.” 

Photo by Jan Tinneberg on Unsplash

While it’s true that baptism and following Jesus do not somehow protect us from misfortune or make us immune to suffering, it’s also true that we believe in a God who loves us and desires good things for us. We believe in a God who is moved by our pain and suffering; a God who created us for relationship, wholeness, and abundant life. 

Because of the way this text has sometimes been used by Christians, I want to be very clear that loving others as Jesus commands does not mean ignoring abuse, excusing bad behavior, or forgiving without consequences. Praying for those who abuse us is not meant as a way of ignoring harmful actions and allowing them to continue. 

So why, then, these instructions? Why love our enemies, do good to those who hate us, bless those who curse us, and pray for those who abuse us? I wonder if Jesus gives us these instructions not because he wants us to suffer, but rather because of God’s desire for us to experience a life of wholeness and flourishing. Perhaps Jesus knows that the resentment and bitterness that we often harbor against our enemies are harmful to us much more than they affect anyone else. 

We know from experience that responding to our enemies with hatred most often elicits more hatred; revenge very easily becomes a never-ending pattern. We think that revenge will make us feel better; that getting back at the person who has wronged us will somehow soothe the pain and hurt we feel. Most often, though, it leaves us feeling empty and unsatisfied.

I wonder if you can call to mind what resentment and anger and hatred feel like in your body. Perhaps it feels like a heavy backpack you have to drag everywhere with you, or a knot in the pit of your stomach. Perhaps you can feel the stress and tension in the muscles of your face, or your shoulders, or your clenched fists. Maybe your sleep is affected, or perhaps your creativity suffers because you’re constantly ruminating about how to get back at the person who has wronged you. 

Just naming all that feels exhausting, let alone living it! I don’t think that any of us would choose that pain and burden and isolation for ourselves. But how do we let go?

What we find with the instructions Jesus gives is that responding in an unexpected way serves to disrupt the typical cycle of violence and anger and resentment. Forgiveness doesn’t mean that what our enemy or abuser did was right, or that it wasn’t painful or difficult for us. Showing love and goodness in response to hatred, offering a blessing in response to a curse, and praying for those who do us harm are actions that serve to release us from the burden of bitterness and resentment and the impossible job of meting out judgment or keeping track of wrongs.  Responding in this way frees us from the burden and isolation of resentment and hatred, instead freeing us for love, wholeness, and life. 

On Tuesday morning, a group of us gathered in the sanctuary to watch “Mission: Joy - Finding Happiness in Troubled Times.” It is a documentary based on a book, both about the lives of Archbishop Desmond Tutu and His Holiness the Dalai Lama and the joy and friendship they shared. The film was filled with their infectious laughter, gentle teasing, and deep love for one another. 

Though they were joyful, each had experienced profound suffering in his life. The film recounted stories of an abusive parent, the loss of a country, arrest and imprisonment, the violence of racism, the pain of isolation and exile. How was it that each man was able to be so joyful even in the face of so much disruption, heartache, and suffering?

Both men named the value of turning outward. Joy, they said, is found in practicing compassion, caring for others, and spreading goodness. They pointed to the inner strength cultivated through the practice of prayer and meditation. This strength allowed them to take a step back, reframe, and transform the suffering they received. This inner work made it possible for them to focus not on resentment or vengeance for what they had suffered, but rather on the gift of a life lived with and for others. 

Forgiveness, love of enemies - none of it is about being a doormat, or showing weakness. Instead, forgiveness provides a doorway to the possibility of wholeness, reconciliation, and abundant life. Now, it may be that you are each better off with the boundary of a closed door. At other times, though, offering compassion and grace and love in the face of their opposites slowly, slowly work in us and in our enemies to soften our hearts, heal our pain, and build a road back to one another.

Of course, all of this is made possible by God’s love and God’s forgiveness and God’s mercy that we have received first - abundant and overflowing, a good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over. 

We give thanks for a God whose love for us is unending, a God who shows us blessing and grace and goodness even when we don’t deserve it, a God who forgives us and strengthens us for life together. 


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