A Reading from the Gospel of Luke.
Jesus said, “I say to you that 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.(Luke 6:27-38)
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This sermon in Luke’s Gospel, which Jesus preached is one of the toughest for Christians to follow. Love your enemy. Turn the other cheek. He preaches the Golden Rule. But with a difference.
Hillel, the great Jewish rabbi was asked by someone to teach the whole Jewish law while standing on one leg. He answered,” What is hateful to thee, do not do to another. That is the whole law, and all else is explanation.”
Philo, the Alexandrian philosopher, said something similar, “What you hate to suffer, do not do to anyone else.” The Stoics had as one of their rules, “What you do not wish to be done to you, do not do to any other.”
And Confucius, when asked for one word that would serve as a rule of practice for all one’s life, answered,” Is not Reciprocity, one such word? What you do not want done to you, don’t do to others.”
The difference in Jesus’s teaching is that he is positive, rather than negative. Instead of ‘do not’ he says, ‘do’. Do bless anyone who curses you. Do pray for someone who is cruel to you. Do give to someone who asks of you. Don’t just look the other way. Do go out of your way to show love.
Here is a true story, told by Terry Dobson, and published in one of the Chicken Soup books that illustrates how that doctrine should be applied.
Terry tells it like this: The train clanked and rattled through the suburbs of Tokyo on a drowsy spring afternoon. Our car was comparatively empty – a few housewives with their kids in tow, some old folks going shopping. I gazed absently as the drab houses and dusty hedgerows went by my window.
At one station, the doors opened and suddenly the afternoon quiet was shattered by a man bellowing violent, incomprehensible curses. The man staggered into our car. He wore dirty laborer’s clothing and was big, drunk and dirty. Screaming, he swung at a woman holding a baby. The blow sent her spinning into the lap of an elderly couple. It was a miracle that the baby was unharmed.
Terrified, the couple jumped up and scrambled toward the other end of the car. The laborer aimed a kick at the retreating back of the old woman but missed as she scuttled to safety. This so enraged the drunk that he grabbed the metal pole in the centre of the car and tried to wrench it out of its stanchion. I could see that his hand was cut and bleeding. The train lurched ahead, the passengers frozen with fear.
I stood up.
I was young then, some twenty years ago, and in pretty good shape. I’d been putting in a solid eight hours of Aikido training nearly every day for the past three years. I liked to throw and grapple. I thought I was tough. The trouble was, my martial skill was untested in actual combat. As students of Aikido, we were not allowed to fight.
“Aikido,” my teacher had said again and again, “is the art of reconciliation. Whoever has in mind to fight has broken his communication with the universe. If you try to dominate people, you’re already defeated. We study how to resolve conflict, not how to start it.”
I listened to his words. I tried hard. I even went so far as to cross the street to avoid the ‘chimpira’ the pinball punks who lounged around the train station. My forbearance exalted me. I felt both tough and holy. In my heart however, I wanted an absolutely legitimate opportunity whereby I might save the innocent by destroying the guilty.
“This is it,” I said to myself as I got to my feet.” People are in danger. If I don’t do something fast somebody will probably get hurt.”
Seeing me stand up, the drunk recognised a chance to focus his rage. ”Aha, “ he roared, “A foreigner! You need a lesson in Japanese manners!”
I held on lightly to the commuter strap overhead and gave him a slow look of disgust and dismissal. I planned to take this turkey apart. But he had to make the first move. I wanted him mad, so I pursed my lips and blew him an insolent kiss.
“All right,” he hollered, “You’re gonna get a lesson!” He gathered himself for a rush at me.
A fraction of a second before he could move, someone shouted, “Hey!” It was earsplitting. But I remember the strangely joyous, lilting quality of it – as though you and a friend had been searching diligently for something, and he had suddenly stumbled upon it. ”Hey!”
I wheeled to my left; the drunk spun to his right. We both stared down at a little old Japanese man. He must have been well into his seventies, this tiny gentleman, sitting there immaculate in his kimono. He took no notice of me, but beamed delightedly at the laborer as though he had a most welcome secret to share.
“C’mere, “the old man said in an easy vernacular, beckoning to the drunk. ”C’mere and talk with me.” He waved his hands lightly.
The big man followed as if on a string. He planted his feet belligerently in front of the old gentleman and roared above the clacking wheels,” Why the hell should I talk to you?” The drunk now had his back to me. If his elbow so much as moved a millimeter, I’d drop him in his socks.
The old man continued to beam at the laborer. ”Whatcha been drinking?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with interest. “I been drinkin’ sake.” The laborer bellowed back, “And it’s none of your business.” Flecks of spittle spattered the old man.
“Oh, that’s wonderful, the old man said, “ absolutely wonderful! You see, I love sake too. Every night, me and my wife (she’s 76 you know) we warm up a little bottle of sake and take it out into the garden, and we sit on an old wooden bench.
“We watch the sun go down, and we look to see how our persimmon tree is doing. My great grandfather planted that tree and we worry about whether it will recover from those ice storms we had last winter.
“Our tree has done better than I expected, though, especially when you consider the poor quality of the soil. It is gratifying to watch when we take our sake and go out to enjoy the evening – even when it rains!” He looked up to the laborer, eyes twinkling.
As he struggled to follow the old man, his face began to soften. His fists slowly became unclenched. ”Yeah,” he said, “I love persimmons, too…” and his voice trailed off.
“Yes,” said the old man smiling, “ and I am sure you have a wonderful wife.”
“No.” replied the laborer. “My wife died.” And very gently, swaying with the movement of the train, the big man began to sob. “I don’t got no wife. I don’t got no home. I don’t got no job. I’m so ashamed of myself.” Tears rolled down his cheeks, as spasms of despair rippled through his body.
As I stood there in my well-scrubbed youthful innocence, my make-the-world-safe-for-democracy righteousness, I felt dirtier than he was.
Then the train arrived at my stop. As the doors opened, I heard the old man cluck sympathetically. ”My, my,” he said, “that is a difficult predicament indeed. Sit down here and tell me about it.”
I turned my head for one last look. The laborer was sprawled on the seat with his head in the old man’s lap. The old man was softly stroking the filthy matted hair.
As the train pulled away, I sat down on a bench in the station. What I had wanted to do with muscle, had been accomplished with kind words. I had just seen Aikido in action, and the very essence of it was love.
Jesus tells us that this is how we must be. Why? Because it makes us just like God. That is the way He acts. God sends his rain on the just and the unjust. He is kind to the one who brings him joy and equally kind to the one who grieves His heart.
God’s love embraces saint and sinner alike. It is the love that we must copy.
If we too can seek even our enemy’s highest good, then we will in truth be children of God.
The heart of Jesus’ sermon is just that. He stresses that we, his followers, must love the unlovely as well as those who appeal to us.
There were several words for love in Greek. Jesus was not asking for storge, natural affection. Nor was he asking for eros, romantic love. He wasn’t asking for philia, the love of friendship.
He was speaking of agape which means love even of the unlovely; love which is not drawn out of merit in the beloved, but which comes from the fact that the lover chooses to be a loving person.
The lover chooses to be a loving person!
Cherie Carter-Scott says that others are merely mirrors of ourselves. She says, “You cannot love or hate something about another person unless it reflects something you love or hate about yourself.”
That bears repeating: “You cannot love or hate something about another person unless it reflects something you love or hate about yourself.”
And that brings us right to the cross, doesn’t it?
The forgiveness that comes from the selfless sacrifice that Jesus made, means that we are forgiven, made clean, pure – sin and guilt washed away – once and for all, and we can now love ourselves!
Accepting that, is all we need, to be able to love others!
And that’s the crux of it all, isn’t it? Amen.