Sermon February 20 2011
(Leviticus 19:1-2, 9-18; Psalm 119:33-40; I Corinthians 3:10-11, 16-23)
I read an unusual example of witnessing to the power of love and forgiveness this week and I’d like to share that story with you: In 1984, Jennifer Thompson-Cannino testified that Ronald Cotton was the man who raped her. Eleven years later, DNA evidence cleared him of the crime. The two are now frequent speakers on judicial reform. They live in North Carolina with their families. They appeared together on Nation Public Radio’s “This I Believe” series in March 2009.
At one point Jennifer said, “I asked Ron if he could ever forgive me. And with all the mercy in the world he took my hands and with tears in his eyes, he told me he had forgiven me a long time ago. At that moment I began to heal. Ronald taught me how to let go of all that pain; his forgiveness set me free that night. Without Ronald, I would still be shackled to that moment in time, and it would own me forever. I soon discovered that I could even forgive the man who had raped me – not because he asked me to, nor because he deserved it – but because I did not want to be a prisoner of my own hatred.”[1]
This story has great impact because of the massive scale of the forgiveness—for both parties involved. Imagine being wrongly accused of a crime that holds such emotional, physical and mental impact and revulsion for most people. And imagine being the one who was mistaken—even without intent—and also dealing with the impact of a physical attack like rape.
Most of us will not have these kinds of experiences—though I am sure that these kinds of stories do exist within our community of faith—but most of us have the experience of another person causing us pain in some way and of causing another person pain, whether on purpose or without intent. We all must contend with the pain that we cause one another because we behave badly or we act without thinking or even when the best of intentions cause pain. Others can also cause us pain even when behaving in perfectly good ways as when children grow us and must be let go or loved ones must move—the kinds of things that really are the best choices for everyone.
Jesus speaks to these painful moments as he continues his Sermon on the Mount in Matthew’s gospel. Jesus begins this section of his message, “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’”[2] And we’ve heard that said, too. It’s an oft quoted justification for swift and severe punishment for crimes, yet in its First Testament context, it’s actually a call for just and relatively merciful consequences that fit the crimes committed. In ancient times, depending on one’s status, the punishment for causing another injury didn’t always fit the injury. The intention of “an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth,” was the limitation of consequence. Under this standard, a powerful person wasn’t allowed to demand the life of servant, slave or other low-status person in the case of injury. And this eye for an eye stuff was to be a maximum consequence because they knew too, that if they continued, all would be blind and toothless.
So Jesus’ word in today’s scripture continues to expand the original understanding of the text—but instead of just limiting swift and severe retaliation, he calls for the exposure of broader injustice. Jesus taught the workers and peasants of his time—he was observed by the more powerful among the Jewish people, but his audience were little more than slaves among the powerful Roman occupiers of Palestine. The peace of Rome was absolute—law and order (at least their own) was kept with an iron fist. Jesus would eventually meet their judgment himself.
And in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus talks about a world of oppression they understood, though it is a far removed experience from our own. One author[3] describes this set of events in a particular way that opened my eyes to Jesus’ intent. Instead of sounding like you should just take whatever anyone dishes out, it resets these statements and makes them a form of passive resistance.
So when Jesus says, “Do not resist an evildoer. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also,”[4] it can be understood as resistance instead of submission and consent to a lowered status. In that land, in that day and in our own, when you touched another person, you always used your right hand. It was the clean hand for hygienic reasons. If you strike someone on the right cheek with your right hand—you’ve backhanded them, struck them as if they were a slave or someone with less status. When Jesus told them to offer the left, he was telling them to stand up as an equal. The blow wouldn’t hurt any less, but the perpetrator of the blow would have to strike the other as an equal.
The second statement is similarly structured—and you need to know the context—the law allowed the holding of a cloak for collateral for a loan. Exodus 22 says, “If you take your neighbor’s cloak in pawn, you shall restore it before the sun goes down; for it may be your neighbor’s only clothing to use as cover; in what else shall that person sleep? And if your neighbor cries out to me, I will listen, for I am compassionate.”[5] When Jesus says, “and if anyone wants to sue you and take your coat, give your cloak as well,”[6] he was revealing the sin of usury or taking more in interest than another can afford. In that day many were taken to prison for having nothing to repay a debt. He expanded this understanding of God’s compassion. If the person gave up their inner garment as well as their outer garment, in that day and in that culture, they revealed the other person’s shame and greed instead of their own.
And in the last part of this section of scripture, Jesus said, “and if anyone forces you to go one mile, go also the second mile.”[7] A Roman soldier could order a resident of an occupied land, like Judah, to carry his pack one mile without punishment by his leaders. He was not supposed to have anyone carry beyond that point. It was a law that guaranteed the subservient status of the occupied country, yet made them seem somewhat merciful. So Jesus said to reveal the occupation and the oppression—walk another mile at the soldier’s protest. Walk it to show agency of choice instead of submission.
And then Jesus wraps up this part with “Give to everyone who begs from you, and do not refuse anyone who wants to borrow from you.” The imperial government could demand anything—they were the enemy, too. So he may be leading up to the next part of the sermon, “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’” The bible never commands to hate one’s enemy—in fact, in much of the First Testament, the stranger and the sojourner who might be members of an enemy tribe or nation are to be cared for as God cares for us all. So Jesus may be pointing out a common way of thinking, and might even be seen as common sense to some.
“But,” he continues, “I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous.” Whenever I read this, I am reminded of a line from Mark Twain’s prose piece, The War Prayer, “If you would beseech a blessing upon yourself, beware! lest without intent you invoke a curse upon a neighbor at the same time. If you pray for the blessing of rain upon your crop which needs it, by that act you are possibly praying for a curse upon some neighbor's crop which may not need rain and can be injured by it.”[8]
Whether or not we pray for it, or can imagine it, God does send rain and blessing upon us all. And God’s love is given to all—whether we call someone enemy or they call us so. Jesus’ teachings have been called naïve and they are in some ways, yet they can be life-changing. As Paul wrote to the church in Corinth, “If you think that you are wise in this age, you should become fools so that you may become wise. For the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God.”[9]
If each follower of Jesus Christ—each one who professed to be a disciple of Jesus followed listened and heard his teaching and then acted according, the world just might be turned upside down. And each life that did so certainly would be. If compassion and forgiveness ruled us as wholly as fear and anger and vengeance seem to control us and our world today imagine how large God’s kingdom—the household of God—would feel!
Jesus calls his disciples—people who were adopted into the children of God whatever their ancestry—to live as God’s children. God’s care and providence (the sun and the rain) are given to the whole world. Who are we to dispute God’s care by our neglect or enmity? And yet it is beyond us if we try to do it alone. It is beyond us if we attempt it without the support of one another and it is certainly beyond our powers if we try it without God. We have to constantly and continuously go to the well of God’s love to survive and even more so to do the work that God calls us to do. To expand the boundaries of our own love to come close to that of God’s—we will constantly seek God’s help and God’s forgiveness. And that’s okay as long as we are moving, stepping, speaking, acting, praying our lives more closely to what God has in store for us.
Our text this morning ends with Jesus setting a powerful goal—a goal that sounds impossible, but is the ultimate call for expanding boundaries, “48Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.”[10] One translator says we are to be mature[11] as God is mature, another “complete in showing love to everyone, so also you must be complete.”[12] Another describes it as living “generously and graciously toward others, the way God lives toward you.”[13]
Any way it is said, again, we aren’t doing it alone—not alone without others and certainly not alone without the help of God. We have to work together and hand in hand with God along the way that Jesus began two thousand years ago. Life looks different now than it did then—we are more prosperous and powerful than Jesus’ original audience. We have the responsible of using our relative prosperity for the sake of those who do not enjoy it.
This week is fittingly the first Sunday for our Week of Compassion offering, so we have an opportunity to realize how big the world is, how the love of God reaches out even now through people who care for those in short-term crisis and long-term need. Amy Gopp, Executive Director, Week of Compassion said it this way, “We do not give because we have; we give because we love. We give because we are loved. Praise be to God for this indescribable gift!”
To the glory of God and in the hope of God’s ever expanding love, grace and hope for us all. Amen.
Works cited:
[1] Copyright © 2009 by Jennifer Thompson-Cannino and Ronald Cotton. Part of the I Believe Essay Collection found at www.thisibelieve.org. Copyright © 2005–2009. This I Believe, Inc. Used with permission of This I Believe, Inc. in Seasons of the Spirit From “Finding Freedom” p. 131.
[2] Matthew 5:38
[3] The Powers that Be, Walter Wink
[4] Matthew 5:39
[5] Exodus 22:26-27
[6] Matthew 5:40
[7] Matthew 5:41
[8] “The War Prayer,” Mark Twain, (1905) Public Domain. (remained unpublished until after his death, until 1923.)
[9] 1 Corinthians 3:18-19.
[10] Matthew 5:48
[11] The Complete Gospels, Robert J. Miller, Editor
[12] Mt. 5:48, CEB
[13] Mt. 5:48, The Message
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