Jesus’
words in our reading from Matthew jump out at me on this Independence Day:
“Love your enemy,” Jesus says. “Be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect.”
Oh my, Jesus… As our country becomes more and more divided, I have spent more
time re-posting on Facebook than I have truly loving my enemy. “Why do I have
to be perfect, Jesus,” I grumble in prayer, “when the other side gets to be
mean and ornery?”
“Perfect,”
here, doesn’t mean morally perfect. It means “complete,” or “whole.” Eugene Peterson translates this verse in The
Message: “Live out your God-created identity. Live generously and
graciously toward others, the way God lives toward you.” We have a merciful God,
a God who sends life-giving rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous. Our
God forgives all who turn to him and change their ways. Our God honors the poor
and lost as much as the rich and famous. To be perfect is to act in the image
of this gracious God who created us in love and who is pouring out that
sustaining love upon us still. In this time of turbulent politics and
hate-filled opposition from all sides, Jesus challenges us. A colleague writes,
“there is such a thing as a spirituality of politics, an engaged
spirituality, a faith that speaks and acts not out of anger, but out of
compassion, that does not seek to divide and conquer, but seeks to make whole
that which is broken.”[1]
As
I was thinking about Jesus’ words yesterday, I happened to read a different
kind of Facebook post. It was from a parishioner who told about a shooting that
happened in downtown Louisville, on her street. This posting wasn’t an angry argument
about guns. It wasn’t an angry or self-righteous statement about race, or about
immigrants. It was a humble witness to tragedy. Teens were playing around with
a gun, and it went off. Instead of staying safely inside her home and judging
this tragedy, instead of sitting alone and fretting, instead of offering up "thoughts and prayers"--our parishioner went out into the dark night. She wrapped her arms around the
teens who had witnessed heartbreak; she listened to their stories; she
counseled them; she brought them a hot meal the next day; and I imagine that
she prayed for them, too. She also prayed for the police, who were doing their
difficult job. This is a faith that makes whole that which is broken.
I
might have been afraid to venture out into the night to comfort my neighbor. I might have been full of judgment. Think
for a moment about what most often stops you from following God’s command to
love. Is it despair? Shame? Resentment? Fear? There are all kinds of shadows
deep inside our hearts that block our God-given response to live generously, to
love one another and to love God. The good news, however, is that we don’t have
to do it alone. The closer we draw near to the One in whose Loving Image we are
made, the more we can be transformed into that likeness. The closer that we
draw near to the one who was crucified to show us perfect Love, the more
strength we will find to mirror his life-giving sacrifice.
It
is a strength that we will need in these difficult times. St. Augustine used to
say to those receiving the Body of Christ at the Eucharist: “Receive who you
are. Become what you have received.” As the Church, we have already been made
Christ’s Body. Can we hand over to God those things that block God’s love from
flowing through us? Jesus hands us our true, complete selves. May we hand back
to God all that keeps us from becoming what God has made us to be--true sons
and daughters of God, true brothers and sisters of one another.
[1]
Michael Jinkins, “An Independence Day Message from President Jinkins,” http://www.lpts.edu/about/news/2018/07/03/an-independence-day-message-from-president-jinkins
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