Sermon prepared for Messiah Lutheran Church, Auburn WA

by Gregory S. Kaurin, pastor

traditional services, 2/15/04

 

Texts: Luke 6:17-35

Sermon:

“Because…they are like you!”

 

 

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Jesus preached this message in our gospel lesson just after he chose his twelve apostles.  We are told that there were many other disciples and a whole crowd of people—sick, tormented, and otherwise—who were gathering around him.

In Matthew’s gospel, he wrote that Jesus saw the size of the crowd, and ascended up a mount where he could be seen and heard.  There, it is traditionally called Jesus’ “Sermon on the Mount.”

In Luke’s gospel, it says that Jesus came down after praying on the mountain, and he found a flat-level place where all these people could sit or stand to hear him.  So, in Luke’s gospel it is called his “Sermon on the Plain.”

Whether Jesus preached on a mountain or a flat plain seems like a huge difference.  Some people have made a mountain out of this mole-hill, calling it one of the great “contradictions” of the Bible.  One commentator answered that Jesus must have preached to them while on top of a butte, a flattened hill.  Maybe.  I think the answer is even easier than that.

If you know someone who worries about such things, you can explain it to them this way.— In English, whether we say “hill” or “mountain,” we usually have two different things in mind.  In the area Jesus preached, anything bigger than a pitcher’s mound was called a mountain.  I exaggerate a little bit, but it had something to do with perspective.  I have found that this is just as true in parts of our own country.  Wherever real mountains are scarce, a hill is called a “mountain.”

Likewise, when we hear the word “plain,” we picture the expansive grassy fields of our Great Plains.  The original Greek suggests only that it was a level space—large enough to hold this crowd. 

So, this “mountain-plain” was probably a flattened spot near a hill just big enough to hold the people.  Jesus stood a little way up the hillside so that he could be seen and heard.  Whether you would say he preached from the mount or among the people on the plain would depend on whether you saw it from Matthew’s perspective or through Luke’s eyes.

Well, this is interesting, but why am I taking time out of today’s sermon on this?  Is there a lesson to be learned here? 

One lesson this might teach is one of humility and assurance.  Those of us who relish the powerful mountain vision of Matthew are called by Luke to also remember Jesus’ compassion for the people on the plain.

And for those of us who get mired in all the needs of the people immediately around us, Matthew calls us to lift our eyes to the mountain of Jesus’ power.  Christianity is not just about meeting needs here on earth, but also trusting in a destiny and a promised land.  We need both: to look to Jesus as he stands on Matthew’s mountain, but to hear him as we stand here on Luke’s plain looking at each other.

 

Jesus leveled us as a people.  He lifted up the poor and suffering, loved them blessed them.  In the next breath he cut down the laziness of those of us who live comfortably without concern and without helping those who have not.  He leveled us.

He didn’t stop there.  “Love your enemies,” Jesus said.  Pauline and I listened to a comedian who said that we need to be very careful about the people we choose to hate.  We need to be careful who we hate because, without fail, “If you hate them enough, they always end up in your family.”[*]  Be careful who you hate. 

Jesus went further.  He turned us to them and said, “Love your enemies.  When they slap you, offer the other cheek.  Give more than they demand.  When they’ve taken your coat, give them the shirt off your back.  Give and loan, but expect nothing in return or in addition.  Love them.”

These are some of the hardest commands of Christ.  In the wake of 9/11/01, they seem downright impossible.  They can even be dangerous or ridiculous if we misinterpret or wrongly apply them to the world.  We have to be careful about taking the laws of Christianity and applying them willy-nilly to the world.

I do not believe that Jesus was telling us to let wicked people, robbers, or tyrants walk all over us.  Moreover, we are clearly not to let them walk all over other people, our family or neighbors, or even over their own families and people.  We are called to step in on behalf of the needs of our neighbors, all of them.

 

Jesus’ point in this gospel lesson was this:  Do not allow evil people and misdeeds in this world to destroy the love that is within you.  Do not allow the evil and misdeeds in this world to stop your actions of love.  Do not become evil, and do not do evil, just to get back at evil.  Be better.  Even at risk: be loving.

Do good for those who have no reason to expect kindness from you.  It doesn’t mean that all our soldiers should throw down their weapons or hand them over to the Al-Quaeda.  It doesn’t mean we throw open the prisons for rapists, murderers and drug dealers to return to our streets. 

It does mean, on a societal level, we Christians advocate for healthy food and shelter, for fair trials, for basic physical and spiritual needs, no vengeance, no torture, but only fair sentences.  We do this, not just for their sakes, but with the dignity and safety of all clearly in our mind.

Why?  Because Jesus faced us toward enemies and said, “Love them, even them.”  Why?  Because they are like you.

Now, you might think I’m nuts for going that far, “Terrorists, rapists, murderers, drug dealers? —I’m nothing like them!”  You might think I’m nuts, but hang on for a moment and listen carefully to what I said, “Not just for their sakes, but with the dignity and safety of all clearly in our mind.” 

Jesus faced us to our enemies and said, “Love them,” and I believe that our humanity and our morality—as Christians and as a people—our humanity and morality is displayed by the way we treat the lowest common denominators.  We show our humanity in the way we treat the lowest people in society, including those who are in custody, and those who have hurt us deeply, horribly.

Are they hungry, or are they being fed?  Are they tortured?  Will they receive a fair trial?  Are we rebuilding and rehabilitating that which we, or others, have torn down?  These are the questions we Christians are supposed to be asking.

Are we giving them the treatment and dignity that we would hope to receive …if we were their place, standing in their feet, because—in other circumstances—we could be.  Before God, we are.  We are like them.  Jesus said in our lesson, “Treat others as you’d have them treat you.”  Elsewhere he summarized all this in the second greatest commandment of scripture: “Love your neighbor as yourself.”

I was listening to a tape of a sermon last week.  The sermon was on both the Old Testament Hebrew command and Jesus’ command to “love your neighbors as yourself.”  Listen for a moment to what that preacher said here in this very sanctuary one week short of 17 years ago about Jesus’ command:

 

Providing money, cooking meals, and all that, are not in themselves acts of love.  It depends on how we do them and why we do them—whether they are an act of love or not. 

Now, before we can be truly loving persons, we have to experience love…ourselves.  We have to be loved before we can love.  Like the man said, “You can’t give what you haven’t got!”

“Love your neighbor as you love yourself,” says the Old Testament lesson, carried on over to the gospel lesson.  Well, I’m going to say something that might sound strange…but I’m not so sure that I want to be loved as some people love themselves, because some people don’t love themselves at all!  They hate themselves.  Some people are masochists, like to suffer, and have very bad feelings about themselves.  I wouldn’t want that kind of love given to me!

That’s not what the Old Testament text means.  I’m not a Hebrew scholar, but I have—through my years of ministry—read very carefully what the words of the Hebrew mean, by Hebrew scholars in their commentaries, and that’s not what the text means.

Let’s talk about it a little more.  The Hebrew text really means this.  (Linda, you can check on that at the seminary if you haven’t gone too far in your Hebrew yet.)  What the text really means is this: “Love your neighbor because he is like you.”

Love your neighbor because he is like you!  In other words, our neighbors are like we are: in need of love, and all part of God’s creation and, therefore, deserving to be loved.  They’re in the same boat!  That’s why you and I should love them.[†]

 

Love your neighbors because they are like you.  Treat others as you would be treated.  And even …love your enemies, see them as like you. 

Is this really possible?  This is not just about loving people who irritate you, or that gross you out a bit.  This is not just about Republicans and Democrats being nicer to each other.  This is Jews being told to love Romans, and Jesus loving Pharisees and the crowd of people that called for his crucifixion.  Jesus loving us.

This is about us loving and forgiving those who disgust us, or have hurt us.  It doesn’t mean you necessarily change the consequences of their actions.  It doesn’t mean you let them walk over you or others.  It does mean letting go, forgiving, offering the basics of human need and dignity.  Mostly in your own life this is about letting go: of your own anger, of hurts, and of grudges.  We let go for our own sakes, and for theirs…with the dignity and safety of all clearly in our mind.

Loving the enemy.  Is it really possible?  No, it is not possible …for us.  It is only possible through the Holy Spirit working within us. 

Slowly, over time, he can help us to let go, to forgive and move on.  You cannot force it.  In time, with one prayer, and one action at a time, Christ’s Spirit works through you.  He can help you to let go and to forgive.  Pray for it… because it is freeing, and also because—before God’s throne—they are like us: deeply sinful, and needing grace.

 

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[*] Chris Rock, paraphrased.

[†] Pastor Eric Sigmar in a sermon delivered on February 22, 1987 to Messiah Lutheran Church, Auburn, WA.  The “Linda” to whom he speaks is Linda Nou, pastoral intern at the time, now serving as pastor in the Puget Sound area.