The Offense Of Grace
Sermon
SERMONS ON THE GOSPEL READINGS
Series I, Cycle A
Victor Hugo begins Les Miserables with the story of Jean Valjean. He is an ex--convict who has just been released from nineteen years in prison for stealing bread to feed his sister's children. As he reenters society, no one will house him or give him work because of his criminal record - that is until he stumbles into the bishop's house. Much to Valjean's bewilderment, the bishop treats him with kindness and hospitality. Seizing the moment, Valjean steals the bishop's silver plates and, then, flees into the night.
The bishop's reaction to Valjean's treachery is not what we might expect. Instead of being angry and offering condemnation, the bishop examines his own behavior and finds himself lacking in charity. "I have for a long time wrongfully withheld this silver; it belonged to the poor. Who was this man? A poor man evidently," he reasons to himself. So when the police arrive with the captured Valjean, the bishop's silver in his possession, the bishop calmly greets the thief and says, "But I gave you the candlesticks also ... why did you not take them along with the plates?" The police, surprised and confused, reluctantly let the thief go.
Like Joseph's brothers cowering in fear before the one they have wronged, Jean Valjean expects blame and condemnation for his actions. Instead, he receives forgiveness and mercy. He expects hatred, and, instead, he receives love, and at that moment evil is transformed into good.
Our story today is a true story of grace, and as such it is God's story. In fact, it summarizes the gospel - the good news which we have received, and the good news which we are called to live. Though Jesus' words and Joseph's words focus on how we are to treat others, they are based upon the way God treats us. Loving enemies, forgiving negative experiences, giving and expecting nothing in return, offering mercy instead of blame and condemnation - this is God's story. After all, God put a rainbow promise in the sky, even though we hadn't earned it. God made manna to fall from heaven, even though the wandering Israelites had done nothing but complain and whine. In Jesus' most difficult parable, the vineyard owner, who is God, pays the one--hour workers the same as the eight--hour workers, and thus gives them - and us - not what we deserve but what we need. And in the archetypal tale of the Prodigal Son, we meet a God who rejoices when a sinner comes home.
Yes, again and again and again, God gives us grace instead of grief. God gives us blessing instead of blame. God gives us comfort instead of condemnation. And in the serendipity of those surprising moments we are changed. Yet, it is one thing for God to be gracious to us. After all, that is what God is for. It's quite another for us to do the same. After all, we live in the real world, and we must be practical, cautious, and sensible. Loving our enemies and turning the other cheek is dangerous business - foolhardy and contrary to our best interests. No, we need to be right, to be safe, to be number one, always to be in control of the situation - this is the only way to preserve one's skin. And so we, the worldly people of the twenty--first century, live not in a world of grace, but instead in a world of hostility. We live in a world where if we get robbed or mugged, we press charges. We live in a world where, in order to maintain national superiority, we can never admit that the United States is wrong. We live in a world where eighty percent of Americans believe in legalized revenge - better known as capital punishment. We live in a world where, after parents die and sibling rivalries turn into warfare, millions of dollars and thousands of emotional hours are spent contesting wills and fighting over family heirlooms.
Yes, resentment and retaliation, judgment and blame are tightly woven into the fabric of our human nature. This negative reaction to the bad things in life is learned behavior in a world where self comes first. It is part of the original sin of seeing ourselves as the center of the universe. And it is the disease of the soul which Jesus comes to heal. When he eats with Zacchaeus, when he forgives and empowers the woman at the well, when he breaks bread with Judas, and when he gives authority to faithless Peter, Jesus gives them - and gives us - grace. He gives us the benefit of the doubt, the gift of a second chance, the lavish and generous blessing of unconditional love. And then Jesus asks us to do the same - to take the risk, to make the decision, yes, to follow him. He asks us to be foolish enough to spurn the ways of the world, and to do things in a new way.
The writer and surgeon Bernie Siegel tells the story of Wild Bill, an inmate of a concentration camp, who after six years of serving the enemy as an interpreter, was still full of energy and physical health and a gentle positive spirit. To the other prisoners, he was a beacon of hope, an agent of reconciliation, one who was constantly urging them to forgive each other and the enemy. This man's positive spirit was all the more amazing because of the horror which he himself had experienced at the beginning of the war - watching his own family: his wife, his two daughters, his three little boys, shot before his very eyes by Nazi soldiers in Warsaw.
When asked to explain his lack of bitterness, Wild Bill responded, "I had to decide right then whether to let myself hate the soldiers who had done this. It was an easy decision, really. I was a lawyer. In my practice I had seen too often what hate could do to people's minds and bodies. Hate had just killed the six people who matter most to me in the world. I decided then that I would spend the rest of my life - whether it was a few days or many years - loving every person I came in contact with."1
A new ethic - to love our enemies, to turn the other cheek, to forgive and love no matter what - it is what Jesus asks. But does it make sense? And does it work? Or is it an offense in our dog--eat--dog world? Is it realistic to expect the families of Timothy McVeigh's victims to forgive him and to love him? Is it appropriate to ask a battered wife to pray for the one who abuses her, to offer the other cheek to the husband who has struck the first one? Yes, God sends sun and rain on the righteous and the unrighteous alike - but are we called to love and be merciful to people who take us for granted and use us for their own advantage? These selfless, idealistic values may be fine for a Messiah, but for those of us who are victims and victimizers in the real world, they are offensive and dangerous.
Unless, of course, we look at them in a new way. Years ago I read a book about Christian assertiveness, and these puzzling words from Matthew were offered as guidelines for healthy assertive behavior. You see, to love our enemy is to take charge of the situation, to refrain from just reacting as a victim of their behavior. To love our enemy is to change the situation, to take the initiative to relate to our victimizers in a new way - literally to take the power out of their hands and to put it in ours in a positive way. To love the enemy does not mean to like the enemy. Instead it means to understand them as human beings - troubled and sinful human beings who have hurt us because they themselves hurt inside. It means to make a decision to respond to them in ways which will benefit them and perhaps lead to healing.
This is not to suggest that we passively sit back and ask for more abuse. It does not mean that the abused wife continues to live with the husband who beats her. No, the loving thing to do, the thing that is in the best interests of the one who is doing the hurting, may be to blow the whistle, to press charges, to get help for a sickness that is out of control. You see, to do good, to love and forgive those who offend us, is to refrain from hurting them in the same way they have hurt us. It is to initiate a new form of confrontation and healing that will lead to the well--being of all the parties involved. An ethic of grace - far from being an offense - is an invitation to take the offensive, to live positively instead of negatively, to stop playing the role of victim, and to start living a life of proactive discipleship.
Martin Luther King, Jr., once wrote:
Forgiveness does not mean ignoring what has been done. It means, rather, that the evil act no longer remains as a barrier to the relationship ... We must recognize that the evil deed of the enemy neighbor, the thing that hurts, never quite expresses all that he is. An element of goodness may be found even in our worst enemy.2
King concludes that when Jesus asks us to love our enemies he is pleading with us to offer understanding and creative good will to all people. This is the only way we can truly be children of a loving God.
My friends, an ethic of grace is different from an ethic of justice. Instead of reacting to the sin of others, instead of basing our response on reward or revenge or reciprocity, we can, instead, initiate a new relationship based on love and hope. And, by taking the high road, we can become fertile ground for abundant life to grow, both for our enemy and for our selves.
I was once offered the gift of grace from an enemy, and it was a transforming moment in my life. Years ago, when my husband and I were called to be co--pastors of a church in New Jersey, the pastoral nominating committee was split. Seven members of the committee were favorable to our candidacy, but four members were opposed. Though it is usually a bad idea to accept a call to a church when there is that kind of split, we were assured that the committee itself was so conflicted that no candidate could have fared better. One of the members who was opposed to us was Pearl, a strong--minded, fairly conservative elder who also happened to be clerk of session. She didn't like our theology, she didn't like the idea of a clergy couple, and she definitely didn't like the idea of a clergywoman. Fortunately, the congregation voted overwhelmingly to call us as their co--pastors, but that still didn't convince Pearl. She just didn't like us, and she wasn't about to accept us as her pastors.
A few weeks after we moved and started our ministry, I was feeling particularly low. Though the congregation had been welcoming, I was still feeling like a stranger, still feeling like people were suspicious, still feeling like my husband was the more acceptable pastor. In fact, I was feeling like we had made a terrible mistake, when all of a sudden the doorbell rang. I went to open the door, and there stood Pearl, holding a broom, a loaf of bread, and a shaker of salt. She smiled at me and said, "I come from German stock, and there is an old tradition in our family. Whenever someone moves into a new home they are given three gifts: a broom to sweep away the evil spirits, a loaf of bread to make their house into a home, and a pinch of salt to bring good luck. I want to welcome you to your new home - and to welcome you as my new pastor."
Well, Pearl and I never saw eye to eye on theology. But that day Pearl took the offensive and changed a relationship of hostility into a relationship of grace. That day she decided to love her enemy, and I felt like I had finally come home.
These words in Matthew are not spoken to the world at large. Jesus knew that secular people could neither understand nor honor such a difficult ethic. No, these words in Matthew are spoken to the disciples, to believers who have decided to follow Jesus. These words are spoken to us, people who have chosen to be the yeast in a world that needs the fullness of grace. This day may we hear these words, and do them, all to the glory of God.
May it be so - for you and for me. Amen.
____________
1. Bernie Siegel, Love, Medicine, and Miracles (New York: Harper and Row, 1986), p. 195.
2. Source unknown.
The bishop's reaction to Valjean's treachery is not what we might expect. Instead of being angry and offering condemnation, the bishop examines his own behavior and finds himself lacking in charity. "I have for a long time wrongfully withheld this silver; it belonged to the poor. Who was this man? A poor man evidently," he reasons to himself. So when the police arrive with the captured Valjean, the bishop's silver in his possession, the bishop calmly greets the thief and says, "But I gave you the candlesticks also ... why did you not take them along with the plates?" The police, surprised and confused, reluctantly let the thief go.
Like Joseph's brothers cowering in fear before the one they have wronged, Jean Valjean expects blame and condemnation for his actions. Instead, he receives forgiveness and mercy. He expects hatred, and, instead, he receives love, and at that moment evil is transformed into good.
Our story today is a true story of grace, and as such it is God's story. In fact, it summarizes the gospel - the good news which we have received, and the good news which we are called to live. Though Jesus' words and Joseph's words focus on how we are to treat others, they are based upon the way God treats us. Loving enemies, forgiving negative experiences, giving and expecting nothing in return, offering mercy instead of blame and condemnation - this is God's story. After all, God put a rainbow promise in the sky, even though we hadn't earned it. God made manna to fall from heaven, even though the wandering Israelites had done nothing but complain and whine. In Jesus' most difficult parable, the vineyard owner, who is God, pays the one--hour workers the same as the eight--hour workers, and thus gives them - and us - not what we deserve but what we need. And in the archetypal tale of the Prodigal Son, we meet a God who rejoices when a sinner comes home.
Yes, again and again and again, God gives us grace instead of grief. God gives us blessing instead of blame. God gives us comfort instead of condemnation. And in the serendipity of those surprising moments we are changed. Yet, it is one thing for God to be gracious to us. After all, that is what God is for. It's quite another for us to do the same. After all, we live in the real world, and we must be practical, cautious, and sensible. Loving our enemies and turning the other cheek is dangerous business - foolhardy and contrary to our best interests. No, we need to be right, to be safe, to be number one, always to be in control of the situation - this is the only way to preserve one's skin. And so we, the worldly people of the twenty--first century, live not in a world of grace, but instead in a world of hostility. We live in a world where if we get robbed or mugged, we press charges. We live in a world where, in order to maintain national superiority, we can never admit that the United States is wrong. We live in a world where eighty percent of Americans believe in legalized revenge - better known as capital punishment. We live in a world where, after parents die and sibling rivalries turn into warfare, millions of dollars and thousands of emotional hours are spent contesting wills and fighting over family heirlooms.
Yes, resentment and retaliation, judgment and blame are tightly woven into the fabric of our human nature. This negative reaction to the bad things in life is learned behavior in a world where self comes first. It is part of the original sin of seeing ourselves as the center of the universe. And it is the disease of the soul which Jesus comes to heal. When he eats with Zacchaeus, when he forgives and empowers the woman at the well, when he breaks bread with Judas, and when he gives authority to faithless Peter, Jesus gives them - and gives us - grace. He gives us the benefit of the doubt, the gift of a second chance, the lavish and generous blessing of unconditional love. And then Jesus asks us to do the same - to take the risk, to make the decision, yes, to follow him. He asks us to be foolish enough to spurn the ways of the world, and to do things in a new way.
The writer and surgeon Bernie Siegel tells the story of Wild Bill, an inmate of a concentration camp, who after six years of serving the enemy as an interpreter, was still full of energy and physical health and a gentle positive spirit. To the other prisoners, he was a beacon of hope, an agent of reconciliation, one who was constantly urging them to forgive each other and the enemy. This man's positive spirit was all the more amazing because of the horror which he himself had experienced at the beginning of the war - watching his own family: his wife, his two daughters, his three little boys, shot before his very eyes by Nazi soldiers in Warsaw.
When asked to explain his lack of bitterness, Wild Bill responded, "I had to decide right then whether to let myself hate the soldiers who had done this. It was an easy decision, really. I was a lawyer. In my practice I had seen too often what hate could do to people's minds and bodies. Hate had just killed the six people who matter most to me in the world. I decided then that I would spend the rest of my life - whether it was a few days or many years - loving every person I came in contact with."1
A new ethic - to love our enemies, to turn the other cheek, to forgive and love no matter what - it is what Jesus asks. But does it make sense? And does it work? Or is it an offense in our dog--eat--dog world? Is it realistic to expect the families of Timothy McVeigh's victims to forgive him and to love him? Is it appropriate to ask a battered wife to pray for the one who abuses her, to offer the other cheek to the husband who has struck the first one? Yes, God sends sun and rain on the righteous and the unrighteous alike - but are we called to love and be merciful to people who take us for granted and use us for their own advantage? These selfless, idealistic values may be fine for a Messiah, but for those of us who are victims and victimizers in the real world, they are offensive and dangerous.
Unless, of course, we look at them in a new way. Years ago I read a book about Christian assertiveness, and these puzzling words from Matthew were offered as guidelines for healthy assertive behavior. You see, to love our enemy is to take charge of the situation, to refrain from just reacting as a victim of their behavior. To love our enemy is to change the situation, to take the initiative to relate to our victimizers in a new way - literally to take the power out of their hands and to put it in ours in a positive way. To love the enemy does not mean to like the enemy. Instead it means to understand them as human beings - troubled and sinful human beings who have hurt us because they themselves hurt inside. It means to make a decision to respond to them in ways which will benefit them and perhaps lead to healing.
This is not to suggest that we passively sit back and ask for more abuse. It does not mean that the abused wife continues to live with the husband who beats her. No, the loving thing to do, the thing that is in the best interests of the one who is doing the hurting, may be to blow the whistle, to press charges, to get help for a sickness that is out of control. You see, to do good, to love and forgive those who offend us, is to refrain from hurting them in the same way they have hurt us. It is to initiate a new form of confrontation and healing that will lead to the well--being of all the parties involved. An ethic of grace - far from being an offense - is an invitation to take the offensive, to live positively instead of negatively, to stop playing the role of victim, and to start living a life of proactive discipleship.
Martin Luther King, Jr., once wrote:
Forgiveness does not mean ignoring what has been done. It means, rather, that the evil act no longer remains as a barrier to the relationship ... We must recognize that the evil deed of the enemy neighbor, the thing that hurts, never quite expresses all that he is. An element of goodness may be found even in our worst enemy.2
King concludes that when Jesus asks us to love our enemies he is pleading with us to offer understanding and creative good will to all people. This is the only way we can truly be children of a loving God.
My friends, an ethic of grace is different from an ethic of justice. Instead of reacting to the sin of others, instead of basing our response on reward or revenge or reciprocity, we can, instead, initiate a new relationship based on love and hope. And, by taking the high road, we can become fertile ground for abundant life to grow, both for our enemy and for our selves.
I was once offered the gift of grace from an enemy, and it was a transforming moment in my life. Years ago, when my husband and I were called to be co--pastors of a church in New Jersey, the pastoral nominating committee was split. Seven members of the committee were favorable to our candidacy, but four members were opposed. Though it is usually a bad idea to accept a call to a church when there is that kind of split, we were assured that the committee itself was so conflicted that no candidate could have fared better. One of the members who was opposed to us was Pearl, a strong--minded, fairly conservative elder who also happened to be clerk of session. She didn't like our theology, she didn't like the idea of a clergy couple, and she definitely didn't like the idea of a clergywoman. Fortunately, the congregation voted overwhelmingly to call us as their co--pastors, but that still didn't convince Pearl. She just didn't like us, and she wasn't about to accept us as her pastors.
A few weeks after we moved and started our ministry, I was feeling particularly low. Though the congregation had been welcoming, I was still feeling like a stranger, still feeling like people were suspicious, still feeling like my husband was the more acceptable pastor. In fact, I was feeling like we had made a terrible mistake, when all of a sudden the doorbell rang. I went to open the door, and there stood Pearl, holding a broom, a loaf of bread, and a shaker of salt. She smiled at me and said, "I come from German stock, and there is an old tradition in our family. Whenever someone moves into a new home they are given three gifts: a broom to sweep away the evil spirits, a loaf of bread to make their house into a home, and a pinch of salt to bring good luck. I want to welcome you to your new home - and to welcome you as my new pastor."
Well, Pearl and I never saw eye to eye on theology. But that day Pearl took the offensive and changed a relationship of hostility into a relationship of grace. That day she decided to love her enemy, and I felt like I had finally come home.
These words in Matthew are not spoken to the world at large. Jesus knew that secular people could neither understand nor honor such a difficult ethic. No, these words in Matthew are spoken to the disciples, to believers who have decided to follow Jesus. These words are spoken to us, people who have chosen to be the yeast in a world that needs the fullness of grace. This day may we hear these words, and do them, all to the glory of God.
May it be so - for you and for me. Amen.
____________
1. Bernie Siegel, Love, Medicine, and Miracles (New York: Harper and Row, 1986), p. 195.
2. Source unknown.
