Sunday, March 24, 2019

Transforming Love


Scripture:        Genesis 45:3-11, 15                 Psalm 37:1-11, 39-40
I Corinthians 15:35-38, 42-50              Luke 6:27-38



Today’s Gospel reading gives us some of the most difficult of Jesus’ teachings:  to not only refuse to retaliate when someone hurts us, but to love that person and pray for them and even do good to them – to be willing to lend money without expectation of return – and to refuse to judge others.   These are the teachings that have caused many to walk away from Jesus, saying, “This would make me too weak and vulnerable.  People will take advantage of me.  They’ll treat me like a doormat.”
Jesus is not asking us to be doormats – and we can know this, because Jesus himself was not a doormat.  Jesus helped many people, but it was of his own will, not because of the coercion of others. 
We may ask – what is the purpose of these teachings of Jesus?  Why would he ask this of his disciples – and why does he ask this of us? What’s the point? 
Anger is a universal fact of human life.  Everybody without exception gets angry at one thing or another.  We  may be angry because someone directly attacked us or took advantage of us.  Or we may be angry with the many injustices of society – seeing people sleeping under bridges, for example, may make us angry.  Or we may not be able to pin down any particular reason for our anger – maybe anger from a number of different causes has been building up inside us, and at some point we can’t hold it in any longer. 
Anger, in and of itself, is not a bad thing.  In fact, in and of itself, anger is not bad or good, it just is.   It’s a sign that something is not right, in the world around us, or in the interior world we carry with us, or both.  Physical pain is a useful if unpleasant sign of illness or injury.  If we didn’t feel physical pain, we might walk around with infected teeth and infected limbs or heart disease or any number of life-threatening conditions, oblivious to the threat facing us.  So pain is like the body’s fire alarm or smoke detector, warning us of imminent danger.  Anger serves a similar “fire alarm” function as a sign of mental or emotional or spiritual illness or injury or threat.  And in the most primal part of our minds are instinctive responses to anger and pain – fight or flight.  These instincts kept our long-ago ancestors alive when chased by wild beasts or hostile tribes.  But they are not always useful in the world we live in, as they were not always useful in the world of Jesus’ day.
So I don’t believe Jesus was telling his disciples – or telling us – that we are never allowed to be angry.  To be incapable of anger would render us not divine, but would turn us into something less than human – the Old Testament prophets spoke of God’s anger at Israel over and over again, so even God gets angry.  By contrast, we have no way to measure whether plants and amoebas become angry. The point of Jesus’ teaching, then, is not about denying the existence of anger, but rather of telling us what to do with our anger, or more broadly with other forms of emotional pain, such as fear, or guilt – and that we may need to find ways to overcome our instincts to fight or flee from outside threats.
Anger exists in everyone, and like physical energy, anger won’t stay still in one place – inevitably it will go somewhere.  Kind of like the flow of water, which civil engineers take lots of courses to learn how to redirect around homes and roads or bridges or such.  Now, I’m not a civil engineer, nor do I play one on TV, but a close friend who works as a draftsman for PennDot tells me that dealing with water is one of his department’s main challenges.  He tells me that the civil engineers he works for don’t try to stop the flow of water, because it’s not possible to stop the flow of water entirely.  Water inevitably will go somewhere, eventually either to the sea or by evaporation into the atmosphere or under constant cold temperature into ice masses.  What civil engineers can do is block the water in certain directions and create channels in different directions, so that it flows in a direction that minimizes destruction.  And anger is like that – it inevitably will go somewhere, but we can direct it in destructive or constructive ways.  Or, perhaps, anger is more like the flow of electricity, which in its natural form such as lightning can be incredibly destructive, but which if it is generated under controlled conditions, channeled, and harnessed, will bless our lives in countless ways.
So Jesus was asking his followers to redirect their anger in ways that were beneficial or at least neutral rather than destructive.  The specific examples he gives – turning the other cheek, giving one’s shirt if asked for one’s cloak – in that culture could have functioned as forms of non-violent resistance, to embarrass the offender into reconsidering his actions.  For example, giving one’s shirt and one’s cloak would have left a person naked, perhaps embarrassing and shaming the person who took the cloak.  Backhanding someone across one side of the face was how persons of status treated slaves and others they considered underlings; to turn the other cheek would render a back of the hand slap less effective.  The specifics Jesus mentions may not be as important as the imperative to respond nonviolently if at all possible – and if possible creatively, seeking some way to call the offender back to their own humanity. 
I spoke of anger and other painful emotions – which I’ll put under the general heading of mental, emotional and spiritual pain – as a kind of energy, similar to electricity.  And before I go any further, I’ll stipulate that I’m also not an electrician, nor do I play one on TV – in fact, if you want an electrician, talk to Tim, not to me.  But from a layperson’s point of view:  Lightning in the atmosphere, if it strikes a building or a tree in a forest where there has been drought, can cause a fire that can quickly turn the building to rubble and a forest to ashes.  A very wise man named Benjamin Franklin got the idea of equipping buildings with lightning rods that channel the energy from lightning strikes in ways that keep the building intact.  Similarly, electricity in the wires of a building can follow the wiring and provide heat or light or any number of other wonderful things.  But if it is beyond the capacity of the wiring, it will create heat that can potentially burn down a building.  To prevent that, buildings are equipped with fuses and circuit breakers to cut off the overflow of electricity before it can cause harm.  A few weeks ago, when our oil burner wasn’t working and the temperature in our social hall was 42 degrees and falling, I panicked at the possibility of the temperature in the building dropping so low that the pipes might freeze.  And so I picked up three space heaters, and they were all plugged in to various outlets around the social hall.  And it wasn’t long before we discovered that the wiring in our church can’t handle three space heaters at one time.  One of the circuit breakers tripped, preventing our aging wiring from overheating.  Similarly, the transformers that are on electrical poles can, among other things step down the amount of electricity from the very strong currents in the electrical lines to the lower energy demands of light bulbs, refrigerators, air conditioners, and countless other labor-saving devices in our homes.
Franciscan priest Richard Rohr teaches that pain – emotional pain, spiritual pain – unless it is transformed, it will inevitably be transmitted.  That is to say, unless we find some other way to channel our pain, we will pass it on to others – perhaps back to the person who hurt us, or perhaps to some person we see as weaker than us – like the old cartoon of the boss who chews out his flunkee who then goes home and screams at his wife, who yells at her kid, who kicks the dog.  Pain, in the form of broken relationships, addictions, abuse, can be passed down through generations of a family, until someone finds it within themselves to say “No more!” and break the cycle of pain.   Jesus challenged his disciples – and challenges us – to act, not as transmitters, but as circuit breakers and transformers, ending the cycle of pain or channeling or transforming the pain into something harmless or even beneficial.  God’s love becomes the transformer that converts pain into blessing – if we let it.
What does this look like?  Joseph in our Old Testament reading is one example.  Joseph’s brothers, jealous that their father Jacob favored Joseph over his other brothers, threw him down a well, first intending that he die, and later that he be sold as a slave in Egypt.   They took their anger out on their brother Joseph.  Joseph goes through various adventures and eventually becomes a high official in Egypt, second only to Pharoah himself.   Later, there was a famine where Jacob and Joseph’s brothers lived, and they heard that there was grain in Egypt.  What they didn’t know was that it was Joseph who was in charge of the grain, who indeed had prepared for famine by storing enough grain to last for the seven years of the drought.  They came to Egypt seeking grain, and while Joseph toyed with them a bit, he eventually revealed himself to his brothers and saved his family from starvation.  He could just as easily held onto his anger and refused assistance to his brothers.  But Joseph saw God’s hand even in the actions of his brothers.  Later, after his father Jacob’s death, his brothers feared that Joseph might be holding a grudge, but Joseph reassured them: “What you meant for evil, God meant for good.” 
Since Black History month is drawing near to a close, we might also mention the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King and his followers who channeled their anger, responding with love to the hate and violence they experienced.  In a 1966 speech, just two years from the end of his life, King spoke these words about his program of nonviolent resistance:
“Somehow, we’ve lived with it at its best and been able to look into the face of our most violent opponent and say we will match your capacity to inflict suffering with our capacity to endure suffering. We will meet your physical force with soul force. Do to us what you will and we will still love you. We cannot in all good conscience obey your unjust laws because non-cooperation with evil is as much a moral obligation as is cooperation with good so throw us in jail and we will still love you. Threaten our children and bomb our churches and our homes and, as difficult as it is, we will still love you. Send your hooded perpetrators of violence into our communities at the midnight hour and drag us out on some wayside road and beat us and leave us half dead and we will still love you. But be assured we will wear you down with all the lashings that we suffer. One day we will win our freedom. We will not only win freedom for ourselves, we will so appeal to your heart and your conscience that we will win you in the process. And our victory will be a double victory.”
Finally, of course, we have the example of our Savior who experienced the full gamut of human emotion, including anger, to the point in one case of turning over tables and whipping money changers as they fled from the Temple.  But as Christians we believe that through his ministry, and on the cross, Jesus took upon himself all the sin, all the brokenness, all the basic ugliness and meanness of humanity, and responded with love.  In words from I Peter 2:23:    “When he was reviled, he reviled not again; when he suffered, he threatened not; but committed himself to him that judges righteously.”  Jesus not only spoke words about loving one’s enemies, he lived them.  This is the love that God has for us.  This is the love God asks of us for others.
In a few moments we’ll sing those famous words, “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me.  I once was lost but now am found, was blind, but now I see.”  This is the grace that God has shown us.  This is the grace God desires from us for others.  May we who are receivers of God’s grace be givers as well.  Amen.


Affliction and Comfort



Scripture:        Jeremiah 17:5-10                    Psalm 1
I Corinthians 15:15-20             Luke 6:17-26



Today’s reading from Luke’s gospel gives us the beginning of what is called “the Sermon on the Plain,” Luke’s counterpart to Matthew’s much more famous Sermon on the Mount.    Matthew’s and Luke’s gospel, while containing a lot of material in common, were addressed to different audiences of early believers, who would have responded to different imagery.  Matthew’s gospel was written to a primarily Jewish group of early converts to the way of Jesus, and presents Jesus as a kind of second Moses, ascending a high mountain to bring commandments from God to the people.  Luke’s gospel, written to a predominantly Gentile audience, presents Jesus as having already come down from the mountain with this disciples to a level place to teach a crowd that had gathered, consisting of Jews from Jerusalem and Judea as well as Gentiles from Tyre and Sidon.   We can think of Luke’s description of a level place as indicating not only elevation, but also status.  That is to, before Jesus, everyone with him – disciples and not, Jews and Gentiles, rich and poor – are on a level playing field, with no one having more or less claim on Jesus’ favor than anyone else.  Also, we have echoes of the verses from Isaiah that were quoted in describing John the Baptist – hills brought low and valleys lifted up, rough places made plain.  A side note:  Luke says that before beginning to teach on this level plain, Jesus looked up at his disciples, and some have taken this description to indicate that perhaps Jesus was short of stature, a little guy, a shrimp.  This might explain how, earlier in Luke’s gospel, Jesus has avoided being thrown off a mountain by his townspeople – perhaps he was able to duck down and hide and crawl through the crowd without drawing notice.  Of course, this is just speculation, but I thought it was an interesting possibility.
Why has a crowd gathered?  They weren’t there just out of idle curiosity:  they had an agenda.  We’re told that they were there to hear Jesus and to be healed of their diseases.  We’re told that those troubled by unclean spirits were cured, and that everyone was trying to touch Jesus in hopes of being healed – we’re told that healing power went out from Jesus and cured all who were there.   What an amazing picture – this crowd of people with all manner of physical and mental illness converging on Jesus, and power going out from Jesus, and the crowd going on their way cured.  Sometimes I think we who have worked in the church for a long time can be a little hard on those who come to church primarily in hopes of getting material assistance – a meal or clothing or a SEPTA pass or some other kind of handout…and here I’m preaching to myself, because there are times when my stamina and emotional resources to deal with the needs of others run short, when I’m too exhausted to take one more phone call or hear one more tale of woe.  While we certainly want people to come to hear the good news and for their lives to be turned around so that they can support the church or pay the assistance forward to others, the reality is that the people who came to Jesus in today’s Gospel reading were there not only to hear Jesus’ gracious words, but to have their immediate need for healing met.   They literally came to Jesus with their hands out – they had their hands out to touch Jesus.  Often it is only when we are at our lowest point of desperate need that we are willing or even able to come inside the doors of the church to hear the good news of Jesus.  Of course, we want peoples lives to turn around, to change – and it can be exhausting being the ones called by Jesus to meet the needs around us - but we have to meet people where they are before we can lead them to where we think God wants them to be.
And then Jesus began to teach.  Remember that this passage parallel’s Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount from Matthew’s gospel.  In Matthew’s gospel, Jesus gives eight beatitudes or blessings – blessed are the poor in spirit, those who mourn, the meek, those who hunger and thirst after righteousness, the merciful, the pure of heart, the peacemakers, and the persecuted.   In Luke’s gospel, Jesus gives four blessings and four woes.  Here are the four blessings:
                Blessed are you who are poor, 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 when they exclude you, revile 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 their ancestors did to the prophets.

It’s interesting that while in Matthew’s gospel, Jesus speaks of the blessed groups in the third person – the poor, the meek etc – while in Luke’s gospel, Jesus is directly speaking to some in the crowd around him – blessed are you poor and hungry -  you who are right in front of me, you who might have received healing from me just a few minutes ago.   It’s also interesting that in Matthew’s gospel, some of the descriptions are spiritualized – the poor in spirit, those who hunger and thirst after righteousness, while in Luke’s gospel, Jesus speaks to those who are poor and hungry in material terms of lacking food, clothing, and shelter.  The Greek word translated as “the poor” is ptochos , meaning the destitute, those reduced to begging.  The Greek word translated as hungering is peinōntes, meaning “famished”.   Jesus’ words in Luke, “Blessed are  you who weep now, for you will laugh” is similar to Matthew’s “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” 

As I said, in Matthew’s gospel, Jesus offers eight beatitudes or blessings.  In Luke’s gospel, there are four blessings followed by four woes, and here are the woes:
                Woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation
                Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry
                Woe to you who laugh now, for you will mourn and weep.
                Woe to you when all speak well of you,
       for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets.

If you’re feeling a little uncomfortable just now, so am I – so you’re in good company, I guess -  and so would have many who were in the crowd with Jesus that day.  While I would hardly call myself rich, I’m certainly comfortable, with a roof over my head.  If I catch a nap on a church pew, as I have here from time to time after everyone has gone home from worship and I’ve dropped off all my riders, it’s because I’m exhausted and afraid of falling asleep at the wheel of my car, not because I have no home to go to.  You have only to look at my ever-expanding stomach to know that I don’t miss a lot of meals, and if I do miss a meal or two from time to time, as I sometimes do, it’s because I’m running on adrenaline and so busy that I forget to eat, not because I can’t afford to eat…..and what I miss during one meal I surely make up for during the next meal or the one after that.   Both weeping and laughing are a part of my life, so I find myself on both sides of Jesus’ blessings and woes.  Now, I can honestly say that I know what it is to have people offended at me for trying to speak and act as I think Jesus would want me to do.  I hate conflict with the burning passion of a thousand suns, and try very hard – probably try harder than I should - not to offend, but sometimes offense is unavoidable.  Winston Churchill is quoted as having said, “You have enemies?  Good.  That means you stood up for something, sometime in your life.”   There’s a quote among community organizers, the origin of which is unknown although it’s often attributed incorrectly to Gandhi:  “First they ignore you.  Then they laugh at you.  Then they fight you.  Then you win.”  Similarly, Frederick Douglass said that, “Those who profess to favor freedom and yet depreciate agitation, are people who want crops without ploughing the ground; they want rain without thunder and lightning; they want the ocean without the roar of its many waters. The struggle may be a moral one, or it may be a physical one, or it may be both. But it must be a struggle. Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will.”   So being within in the will of God, acting on the values of the reign of God as described by Jesus, doesn’t mean we won’t offend people –  if we are fighting oppression, we will assuredly offend oppressors.   Sometimes our reality check for the rightness or wrongness of our actions may come by observing who our words or actions offend.

Jesus’ words, as described in Luke’s gospel, are very hard on many of us who live in relative comfort, and I count myself in that number.  We should remember that Luke himself was a physician, highly educated for his day, and his writing style is very polished.  Luke himself almost certainly was not begging in the streets.  But Luke, following in the way of Jesus, had a real passion for helping the poor and marginalized of his society, and it comes through over and over again in his gospel.   For Luke, I suspect, the challenge of wealth was what to do with it.  Luke’s gospel – and the sequel to his gospel, the book of Acts - gives examples of good and bad uses of wealth.   Zacchaeus, the wealthy tax collector who promised to give half his goods to the poor and to refund fourfold any wealth he had taken dishonestly, was an example of a good use of wealth.  The same can be said of the early Christians who sold their possessions and pooled the proceeds to help the poor.  By contrast, the rich man in Jesus’ parable who ignored the beggar Lazarus at his gate was a negative example, a poster child for what not to do with wealth – and in Jesus’ parable, in the end it was the rich man who was begging Lazarus for a drop of water, while Lazarus was in comfort at last.  Jesus’ parable of the rich man and Lazarus shows us what Jesus’ words in today’s gospel reading look like in action.

The earliest Christians, the early church, functioned as a kind of alternative extended family, as people referred to one another as sisters and brothers.  And, even with all our struggles and limitations here at Emanuel, I think we’ve developing a similar sense of extended family, as I see you all checking in on one another on Facebook during the week, offering prayers, advice, and assistance.  The challenge of living out that level of deep community, in Jesus’ day and in our own time, is that it connects us to the deep pain of our sisters and brothers.  In the words of the old hymn, “We share our mutual woes/Our mutual burdens bear/And often for each other flows the sympathizing tear.”  That sense of extended family won’t let us just cuddle up in our cocoon of comfort.  And so we may find it difficult to sit down comfortably to eat a big dinner if we know that a sister or brother is looking for food in the trash, may find it difficult to sleep comfortably in our soft bed if someone we know is sleeping on the street.  Last Sunday, when we didn’t have heat in the church, for an hour or so we got a tiny glimpse of what life is like for those who don’t have a roof over their heads, or who don’t have heat in their homes.  Of course there are limits to what any of us can do, especially if we live at a distance from the church…I know for myself that I can’t drive in from Conshohocken at all hours of the day and night….but I do try to make myself available on some regular basis, usually toward the weekend, and I know other members contact me regularly to ask where to find and how to help our struggling members. When our last newsletter went out, one of our readers – a longtime friend of the church – gently chided me because an article about the winter break in our homeless street outreach was on the same page as the article about our upcoming dinner church.  She thought we were feasting while others starved.  Of course, I assured her that far from abandoning our commitment to the homeless, the dinner church is a key part of our homeless outreach, in that our homeless members and friends are almost always at dinner with us, and I purposely try to order in more food than we can possibly eat at one sitting so that we can send food home with our members who are hungry, so they have something to eat the next day – the overflow of food at the dinner church is intentional, an attempt at a picture, a bare glimpse, of the heavenly banquet promised first by Isaiah and later by Jesus, where there’s always plenty of food and drink and no one ever goes hungry.

Jesus’ words in our Gospel comforted the afflicted and afflicted the comfortable – and we too may variously feel afflicted or comforted by Jesus’ words.   May the comfort of Jesus’ words lead us to gratitude, and may the affliction found in Jesus’ words lead us to change.  May our hearts be open to the challenge of Jesus’ words and the pain of our sisters and brothers’ lives.  And may God’s power go forth from our lives to bring  healing to a hurting world. Amen.