Lev 19:1-2, 9-18; Ps 119:33-40; 1 Cor 3:10-11, 16-23; Matt 5:38-48
A big news story this week was the death of a beloved Canadian storyteller. A weekly guest in many people’s homes and cars: Stuart McLean from CBC Radio’s Vinyl Café. Though I was never a regular listener, McLean and his storytelling style were actually part of our preaching class curriculum at Trinity College.
For me, though, my favourite show on the CBC is Under the Influence, the show about the world of advertising. This week, as I was starting to give some thought to today’s readings, Terry O’Reilly began the show with this story:
One day in Afghanistan, a small troupe of American soldiers found themselves involved in an exchange of gunfire with a small group of Afghans.
The skirmish goes on for days.
It’s a gun battle with no end, as each side just keeps firing shots in the other’s direction.
The other group isn’t associated with the Taliban, so the Americans aren’t sure why they are being fired upon.
Finally, the American Lieutenant in charge has an idea.
He says, why don’t we just ask them?
So the Lieutenant signals a ceasefire.
When the shooting stopped, he slowly walked over to the Afghans and asked, “Why are you firing at us?”
They tell him it’s because the Americans are not paying rent for the land they’re on.
The Lieutenant says, “Oh, OK, so we’ll pay rent.”
The Afghans say that’s fine, but we have to warn you that another group will start shooting at you.
When the Lieutenant asks why, the Afghans tell him that the other group believes they own they land.
Then the Lieutenant asked this one simple question:
Is there a place we can move to where we won’t have to pay rent?
The Afghans point to a place just 180 metres away.
So the American squad picked up their equipment, moved 600 feet to the left – and the shooting stopped.
That was all it took.
It was the smallest move that resulted in a surprisingly big gain.
This story expresses, in some sense, what’s possible when we think critically before we act. When we thoughtfully respond, rather than just react. When we have the courage to do what it takes — even against our instincts — to stop a situation from escalating out of control.
When our lives start to reflect the values of the Beatitudes, even imperfectly — we get a glimpse of the Kingdom. And we give the world a glimpse of the Kingdom. Because the values of the Sermon on the Mount are reflections of God’s very character. There’s that saying, about how most people aren’t going to read the Bible. The only Bible they’re going to read is the Christian person. This is a theme that weaved its way through the readings we just heard:
From our Gospel: “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” [Matt 5:48]
From Leviticus: “You shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am holy.” [Lev 19:2]
And if we find that those carry with them quite a lot of pressure, we might like the way Paul expresses the same idea: “Do not deceive yourselves. 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[.]” [1 Cor 3:18-19]
There was a famous thirteenth century rabbi from Spain commonly called Rambam (not “Bam-Bam” like from the Flintstones). And Rambam observed that it was possible for someone to be pretty good at following most of the laws, but still be, as he put it, “a scoundrel with the full permission of the Torah.”* (Really, along the same lines as what we’ve heard Jesus saying in the antitheses these past two weeks; it’s easy to follow the law, but miss the meaning behind and beyond it. Or once someone knows the law inside and out, they might also learn to manipulate it.)
So Rambam said that this command to “be holy” — which was directed at the whole people — this command was there to ensure that the Jewish people didn’t miss the ethical component to their laws. Like what we heard today: farmers were to leave some food in their fields for those living in poverty. And pay day labourers promptly — because their job situation was unstable; they were likely the most in need. Don’t put a stumbling block in front of someone with blindness; in other words, don’t take advantage of someone with a disability.
The world would be a much more compassionate place if more people, following Rambam’s advice, paid attention to this call to “be holy.” But like Paul wrote, this perspective, this way of life, is more than likely to be viewed as “foolish” to most people. Because we’re wired to compete. We’re wired to retaliate. And in today’s world, you don’t even have to be such a high achiever or idealist to be considered foolish. Simply confessing a belief in God is enough to get you labelled a fool, in the eyes of many. In society this is a shift from ‘secularism’ to ‘secularity.’ In the secular system I was raised in, there was a place, a niche carved out for religion and spirituality. In the secularity model that seems to be creeping in, a belief in God is put on the same level as a belief in Santa Claus. In other words, it’s foolish. So if secularism says: we should tolerate all religions, secularity says: to be religious is to be (by definition) intolerant. And so we can no longer tolerate religion.
Now, I’m not saying this to stoke fears or to make it sound like we’re persecuted. I do bring it up, though, because we need to lament that despite Rambam’s suggestion, throughout history so many people have figured out how to be religious while also managing to be scoundrels. And that whenever the Church is in the news — whichever Church or denomination — it’s often not a good news story.
So what do we do about this? What do we do about the bad publicity? What do we do about losing some of our say or our position in the world?
One reaction is to complain. Or to point fingers. To blame the media. To wish for the good old days. That, I’d suggest, is futile. It’s like the group of soldiers exchanging gunfire with the Afghan soldiers.
Instead, we might pick up our equipment and move 600 feet to the left. We could remember Rambam’s advice: take seriously the call to be holy, because God is holy. Or like Jesus said, be perfect, like our heavenly Father is perfect. Or like Paul said, be foolish for the sake of the Gospel. In other words, go about nurturing the values of the Kingdom. Love your enemies. Pray for those who curse you. Care for the sick. Welcome the stranger.
In our context turning the other cheek doesn’t necessarily mean lying down, giving in, or taking punishment. But it does mean refusing to feed the cycle of violence. Today we’re being called to respond to prejudice and sectarianism with holiness; violence (whether out in the world, or in our hearts), with the perfect peace that comes from a sense of God’s presence; and the reductionist wisdom of this world with a foolish extravagance of love. Amen.
* In Biblical Literacy by Rabbi Joseph Telushkin (New York: William Morrow, 1997), 457.
© 2017 The Rev’d Matthew Kieswetter