Loving Neighbors, Killing Neighbors
Stories
Object:
Contents
"Loving Neighbors, Killing Neighbors" by John Sumwalt
"Coatracks" by C. David McKirachan
* * * * * * * *
Loving Neighbors, Killing Neighbors
by John Sumwalt
Matthew 22:34-46
"You shall love your neighbor as yourself."
-- Matthew 22:39b
Much has changed in our world in the past ten years. We have fought two wars and spent thousands of lives and trillions of dollars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Over 100,000 soldiers and innocent civilians have died in those two nations. Thousands of our US National Guard men and women have been called up to serve who could not have imagined themselves fighting in a foreign land before 9/11.
There are widows and widowers and war orphans and wounded veterans on all sides who will need our care for many years to come. Estimates of the cost of lifetime medical care and benefits for US Iraq and Afghanistan war veterans is expected to exceed $1.3 trillion dollars. The greatest costs for World War II did not occur during the war in the 1940s or even in the 1950s during the rebuilding years but in the 1980s when the vets of that war became senior citizens and filled our veteran's hospitals.
We have seen the near collapse of the world economy that has resulted in millions here, and around world, losing their jobs and homes. We now have Homeland Security, a federal agency that did not exist before 9/11 -- and security alerts.
God help us (and I include myself in this)! We as a nation have rejoiced in the death of Osama Bin Laden, the leader of the terrorists responsible for the horrific violence of 9/11, and an enemy Jesus has asked us to pray for. It is not easy to love one's neighbors, enemies, and otherwise. Is it ever permissible to kill neighbors who hate us and have tried to kill us? What would Jesus say?
There is an old Hasidic tale that the Jewish rabbis used to tell about the deliverance of Israel at the Red Sea, how the angels were rejoicing over the deliverance of God's chosen people, playing their harps and dancing. "Wait," said one of the angels. "Look, the Creator of the Universe is sitting there weeping!" They approached God and asked, "Why are you weeping when Israel has been delivered by your power?" "I am weeping," said the Maker of the Universe, "for the dead Egyptians washed up on the shore -- somebody's sons, somebody's husbands, somebody's fathers."
Perhaps what has changed the most since 9/11 is the fear many Americans have of people who are different, especially Islamic jihadists. There is good reason to fear them, though they represent a very small percentage of Muslims, the vast majority of whom do not believe in holy war against the West.
Many Muslim leaders throughout the US and around the world have spoken out vehemently against the violent actions of the terrorists. Still there are many Americans who insist on maligning and avoiding all Muslims. I have witnessed this unfortunate treatment of a Muslim immigrant in our own community, a person who is as gentle and kind a soul as I have ever known.
"On 9/11 when the towers were falling in New York City, an Islamic Arab from Palestine was running for his life in the surging crowd when he stumbled and fell. Paralyzed with fear and unable to get up, he was trampled within seconds by hundreds of feet rushing past him. Then the man felt an arm on his shoulder and a voice speaking to him. "Get up, brother! We have to get out of here." Unable to stand because of his injuries, he felt himself being picked up. Again he heard the voice: "Brother, we have to get out of here." Half dragged, half carried down many stories, the man finally emerged from the building leaning heavily on his rescuer. As the injured Palestinian turned to thank the person who had carried him to safety, his eyes widened, for the person who had called him "brother," the man who had saved his life, was a Hasidic Jew. He had risked his life for an enemy. Who would do such a foolish thing? (Tilda Norberg, Ashes Transformed: Healing from Trauma, Upper Room Books, 2002, pp. 54-55)
John Sumwalt is the pastor of Our Lord's United Methodist Church in New Berlin, Wisconsin, and a noted storyteller in the Milwaukee area. He is the author of nine books, including the acclaimed Vision Stories series and How to Preach the Miracles: Why People Don't Believe Them and What You Can Do About It. John and his wife Jo Perry-Sumwalt served for three years as the co-editors of StoryShare. A graduate of the University of Wisconsin-Madison and the University of Dubuque Theological Seminary (UDTS), Sumwalt received the Herbert Manning Jr. award for parish ministry from UDTS in 1997.
Coatracks
by C. David McKirachan
Matthew 22:34-46
I live in an old house. When it was built, people didn't have many clothes. At least it seems that way from the size of the closets. There aren't many of them and they're small. Additions have been made to allow for our modern plethora of garments. Notches were made in moldings and heavy wooden dowels wedged in to span the newly created closets.
Wood is an amazing material. It lasts for centuries in the right conditions. It is strong and resilient but after supporting a few sport jackets, a couple of suits, shirts, slacks, bathrobes, a tie rack, and a tuxedo for a few years, the heavy wooden dowel in my closet bent. Not much, mind you. I didn't notice the shallow arc it had assumed. But it was enough to shorten its span, just enough to bring the whole thing down in the middle of the night. I thought a truck had driven through the wall. It took hours to untangle the heap and measure the span for a new dowel. The old one was bent.
I took the opportunity to get rid of some clothes I didn't wear much, some that were a bit worn out, and some that didn't quite fit. But the remainder was still a load and when I looked at them I realized that my life, complex as it is requires a diversity of clothes, requires a diversity that perhaps some simpler age or set of circumstances would not.
Life itself is a complex endeavor. Taking care of business, nourishment, health, relationships, personal growth, and the spirit has always been an intricate dance. Too often we pine for a simpler time when life was not so complicated. We may have many modern responsibilities, but we don't have to bake bread or chop wood or carry out the ashes from the coal stove. Life's never been simple.
Any law that is to deal with the intricacies and complexities of life has always been and must be able to adjust and cope with life's seasons and differing needs; kind of like my wardrobe. Finding some guiding principle to hang all that on is a stretch. Most choices just won't hold the weight.
So when Jesus gave this wisdom to the Pharisees, He was making a tall claim. He refused to simplify because life just isn't like that. That's why he claimed love. Love is not simple. The process of loving adjusts to the needs and the dynamics of the moment. It deals with our complex lives. It is strong enough to support the necessary and the whimsical without collapsing. "On these hang all the law and the prophets."
The new dowel is in place but there's an addition: I put a support in the middle. We'll save that for another sermon.
C. David McKirachan is pastor of the Presbyterian Church at Shrewsbury in central New Jersey. He also teaches at Monmouth University. McKirachan is the author of I Happened Upon a Miracle and A Year of Wonder (Westminster John Knox).
*****************************************
StoryShare, October 23, 2011, issue.
Copyright 2011 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
"Loving Neighbors, Killing Neighbors" by John Sumwalt
"Coatracks" by C. David McKirachan
* * * * * * * *
Loving Neighbors, Killing Neighbors
by John Sumwalt
Matthew 22:34-46
"You shall love your neighbor as yourself."
-- Matthew 22:39b
Much has changed in our world in the past ten years. We have fought two wars and spent thousands of lives and trillions of dollars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Over 100,000 soldiers and innocent civilians have died in those two nations. Thousands of our US National Guard men and women have been called up to serve who could not have imagined themselves fighting in a foreign land before 9/11.
There are widows and widowers and war orphans and wounded veterans on all sides who will need our care for many years to come. Estimates of the cost of lifetime medical care and benefits for US Iraq and Afghanistan war veterans is expected to exceed $1.3 trillion dollars. The greatest costs for World War II did not occur during the war in the 1940s or even in the 1950s during the rebuilding years but in the 1980s when the vets of that war became senior citizens and filled our veteran's hospitals.
We have seen the near collapse of the world economy that has resulted in millions here, and around world, losing their jobs and homes. We now have Homeland Security, a federal agency that did not exist before 9/11 -- and security alerts.
God help us (and I include myself in this)! We as a nation have rejoiced in the death of Osama Bin Laden, the leader of the terrorists responsible for the horrific violence of 9/11, and an enemy Jesus has asked us to pray for. It is not easy to love one's neighbors, enemies, and otherwise. Is it ever permissible to kill neighbors who hate us and have tried to kill us? What would Jesus say?
There is an old Hasidic tale that the Jewish rabbis used to tell about the deliverance of Israel at the Red Sea, how the angels were rejoicing over the deliverance of God's chosen people, playing their harps and dancing. "Wait," said one of the angels. "Look, the Creator of the Universe is sitting there weeping!" They approached God and asked, "Why are you weeping when Israel has been delivered by your power?" "I am weeping," said the Maker of the Universe, "for the dead Egyptians washed up on the shore -- somebody's sons, somebody's husbands, somebody's fathers."
Perhaps what has changed the most since 9/11 is the fear many Americans have of people who are different, especially Islamic jihadists. There is good reason to fear them, though they represent a very small percentage of Muslims, the vast majority of whom do not believe in holy war against the West.
Many Muslim leaders throughout the US and around the world have spoken out vehemently against the violent actions of the terrorists. Still there are many Americans who insist on maligning and avoiding all Muslims. I have witnessed this unfortunate treatment of a Muslim immigrant in our own community, a person who is as gentle and kind a soul as I have ever known.
"On 9/11 when the towers were falling in New York City, an Islamic Arab from Palestine was running for his life in the surging crowd when he stumbled and fell. Paralyzed with fear and unable to get up, he was trampled within seconds by hundreds of feet rushing past him. Then the man felt an arm on his shoulder and a voice speaking to him. "Get up, brother! We have to get out of here." Unable to stand because of his injuries, he felt himself being picked up. Again he heard the voice: "Brother, we have to get out of here." Half dragged, half carried down many stories, the man finally emerged from the building leaning heavily on his rescuer. As the injured Palestinian turned to thank the person who had carried him to safety, his eyes widened, for the person who had called him "brother," the man who had saved his life, was a Hasidic Jew. He had risked his life for an enemy. Who would do such a foolish thing? (Tilda Norberg, Ashes Transformed: Healing from Trauma, Upper Room Books, 2002, pp. 54-55)
John Sumwalt is the pastor of Our Lord's United Methodist Church in New Berlin, Wisconsin, and a noted storyteller in the Milwaukee area. He is the author of nine books, including the acclaimed Vision Stories series and How to Preach the Miracles: Why People Don't Believe Them and What You Can Do About It. John and his wife Jo Perry-Sumwalt served for three years as the co-editors of StoryShare. A graduate of the University of Wisconsin-Madison and the University of Dubuque Theological Seminary (UDTS), Sumwalt received the Herbert Manning Jr. award for parish ministry from UDTS in 1997.
Coatracks
by C. David McKirachan
Matthew 22:34-46
I live in an old house. When it was built, people didn't have many clothes. At least it seems that way from the size of the closets. There aren't many of them and they're small. Additions have been made to allow for our modern plethora of garments. Notches were made in moldings and heavy wooden dowels wedged in to span the newly created closets.
Wood is an amazing material. It lasts for centuries in the right conditions. It is strong and resilient but after supporting a few sport jackets, a couple of suits, shirts, slacks, bathrobes, a tie rack, and a tuxedo for a few years, the heavy wooden dowel in my closet bent. Not much, mind you. I didn't notice the shallow arc it had assumed. But it was enough to shorten its span, just enough to bring the whole thing down in the middle of the night. I thought a truck had driven through the wall. It took hours to untangle the heap and measure the span for a new dowel. The old one was bent.
I took the opportunity to get rid of some clothes I didn't wear much, some that were a bit worn out, and some that didn't quite fit. But the remainder was still a load and when I looked at them I realized that my life, complex as it is requires a diversity of clothes, requires a diversity that perhaps some simpler age or set of circumstances would not.
Life itself is a complex endeavor. Taking care of business, nourishment, health, relationships, personal growth, and the spirit has always been an intricate dance. Too often we pine for a simpler time when life was not so complicated. We may have many modern responsibilities, but we don't have to bake bread or chop wood or carry out the ashes from the coal stove. Life's never been simple.
Any law that is to deal with the intricacies and complexities of life has always been and must be able to adjust and cope with life's seasons and differing needs; kind of like my wardrobe. Finding some guiding principle to hang all that on is a stretch. Most choices just won't hold the weight.
So when Jesus gave this wisdom to the Pharisees, He was making a tall claim. He refused to simplify because life just isn't like that. That's why he claimed love. Love is not simple. The process of loving adjusts to the needs and the dynamics of the moment. It deals with our complex lives. It is strong enough to support the necessary and the whimsical without collapsing. "On these hang all the law and the prophets."
The new dowel is in place but there's an addition: I put a support in the middle. We'll save that for another sermon.
C. David McKirachan is pastor of the Presbyterian Church at Shrewsbury in central New Jersey. He also teaches at Monmouth University. McKirachan is the author of I Happened Upon a Miracle and A Year of Wonder (Westminster John Knox).
*****************************************
StoryShare, October 23, 2011, issue.
Copyright 2011 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
