You know, a lot of interesting things happen to a person when they go from being a guitarist in a regional indie-rock band, to a Jesus-follower and then to a theology student. I am one of those people, and one of my interesting things that happened was my close friendship with a young Church Historian, Theologian, and professor named Fr. Thomas Buchan. We were at a party or something when he told us this little gem of a story that relates directly to our Gospel lesson this morning. He was at church meeting once when the subject of “turning the other cheek” came up in conversation with a friend. The fellow said that he had always had trouble with that teaching, that he just felt like it was impossible to live into and that Jesus was being unrealistic; sometimes you just gotta smack someone, you know? Then Dr. Buchan said sheepishly, that he thought it meant that Jesus was teaching us to think twice about that sort of thing. Apparently, a bit of a verbal fracas broke out. Now some of you had a chance to meet Fr. Buchan when he came down for our ordination, and you might remember him as quiet, kind of shy, kind of silly, and just plain kind. Well, he was embarrassed to say that in that conversation he had acted outside of his temperament, not to mention acting outside the principles behind Jesus’ teaching, and was deploying his mighty intellect to verbally rout his conversation partner. The other fellow, exasperated, clearly intellectually outgunned, and near defeat, shouted at his friend: “You’re worrying so much about what Jesus said, it’s almost like you want to BE Jesus.” Thomas, whose conscience was likely kicking back in, quietly said, “Well…yeah.” The other fellow left in a huff, leaving Thomas to contemplate the depths of his depravity and to consider how he was going to apologize.
Of course, our dear defeated brother had been so engaged in the argument that he missed a major goal of Christian holiness: to be like Jesus. And Fr. Thomas had likely missed it too, until presented with it directly. When Jesus was giving his Sermon on the Mount, at the same time he was giving principles for Christian discipleship, he was allowing his followers to consider what it might be like to think a little bit more like God, to enter into a holiness founded in the life and love of God.
When Jesus expounds on the law of Moses, as he was doing according to Matthew, he was reconnecting the laws given to Israel to the challenging notion that thinking like God does was at the heart of law. It is worth noting, by the way, that although the taking an eye for an eye seems pretty brutal to us, in the ancient near east it was actually pretty merciful. In fact, much of the Mosaic law code is much more protective of human life. Many of Ancient Israel’s neighbors had law codes as well, and often times the rather gruesome death of an offender was a common solution to various legal disputes and conflicts. God’s chosen people, however, were to live by a different standard, a standard by which all human activity and decisions are governed by a sense in which life matters, a sense wherein to be called holy was not some religious burden but to be called into a particular way of doing life; a life that represented the fact that to be set apart for God’s purpose was to be a light to the nations.
A quick skim of our reading from Leviticus bears this out: don’t steal or defraud, don’t abuse the disabled, leave the extra bits from the harvest for the poor and the travelers, love your neighbor as yourself…
It almost seems like these are words that would seem more comfortable falling out of the mouth of the Savior rather than drying out in the supposed tomb of the Levitical law code; these are directives that would make the Israelites blessings among the peoples and witnesses to the goodness of the God of Israel.
I think Jesus was keenly aware of this, and his teaching that we heard today highlights the difficult ethical path set before folks who would follow him. Looking around us, we hardly see many examples of successful non-retaliation these days, if we ever did. Even among the community of Christ’s redeeming we still find ways to avoid praying for our enemies and we certainly spill more ink, stir more electrons, and spit more bile in fear of our persecutors than we do blessing them. The Church’s history of ideas is filled to the brim with how we are supposed to go about the Father’s business of cheek turning and enemy blessing, always conscious of the fact that we are not creatures readily given to offer up the unbruised cheek to the cheek bruiser, nor are we given to lending a second shirt to someone who took the first one by force. I have read page after page of various arguments trying to make rational sense of Jesus’ telling his disciples to be perfect, even as the Father is perfect; a command given after he tells his audience to love those who threaten you, two seemingly impossible commands, there must be some room here to make the Christian life a workable, relevant reality!
And as soon as we start worrying about HOW we can live out such difficult teaching, we must remember WHO is teaching them. You see, I’m convinced that the only answer to the conceptual problems set forth by turning the other cheek and loving our enemies is to cling more closely to the teacher, to become like him, to become more holy. You see, the ethical principles set before us don’t work well when we don’t see them as an invitation into the life of God. With that invitation given by the reconciling ministry of Jesus Christ, comes participation in the life of the Holy Trinity. With it comes a renewed mind, eyes to see, ears to hear, and a heart that bursts with the overflow of the Spirit calling the whole world back to God, so that we can think like he does, and treat people like he does.
I don’t always know how to love or pray for the people that grind my gears. But I know that God does. He does it all the time. I don’t know what it’s like to get beat up and not respond in kind. But I know God does. He does it all the time. Christian holiness begins by knowing who has the answer and asking. Sometimes we call that prayer.
It was another one of those weird things that happened to this ex-indie rocker, that I took an invitation to be a blessing, and then God did all the work for me.
Keep each other, especially the ones that fight you and curse you, in your prayers.
Amen.
Sermon preached by the Rev. David S. Bumsted
The Church of the Redeemer
Sarasota, FL
the 7th Sunday after the Epiphany
23 February 2014