Love Your Enemies? Ugh, OK

Like many Southern towns, there’s a road in my city where you pass several churches in just a few blocks, one after the other. I was driving down this road the other day when I noticed that each church had the same banner: “Love Your Neighbor.” Then I started noticing the banner in front of churches all over town. It turns out that about 30 churches collaborate every year on the weekend following Valentine’s Day to preach on love of neighbor. I love seeing ecumenical efforts like this.

Of course, the liturgical readings also lend to this effort. That particular weekend was the Beatitudes, and this past weekend was about loving your enemies.

What a hard reading but necessary reading in the current climate. There is so much hurt and anger. But the truth is that we can’t let the times and circumstances change us. We are called to love.

What does love of enemies look like? It does not mean tolerating injustice. But it can mean swallowing our pride, holding back reactionary words, carrying heavy burdens. Those who curse or injure us are children of God, and even if they can’t see that, we should. God loves them, so we should love them, even when their actions are wrong and harmful. Every individual in front of us should be treated with compassion, and yes, forgiveness.

Monday Motivation: Presidents' Day

 From George Washington:

"A good moral character is the first essential in a man...It is therefore highly important that you should endeavor not only to be learned but virtuous. "

" Truth will ultimately prevail where pains is taken to bring it to light."

"Labor to keep alive in your breast that little spark of celestial fire, called conscience."

From Abraham Lincoln:

"I am responsible … to the American people, to the Christian world, to History, and on my final account to God."

"I planted myself upon the truth, and the truth only, so far as I knew it, or could be brought to know it."

"With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds."

500: Reformation Swiss-style

I originally did my 500 series in 2017 on the lead up to the 500th anniversary of Luther's 95 theses, considered the beginning of Protestantism. I didn't continue it, as the stories grow convoluted as different branches of faith arise in different areas with overlapping timelines. However, this year is the 500th anniversary of Anabaptism, a movement which many of my ancestors followed. So I will continue the series a bit on the lead up to the radical "re-baptizers." 

Ulrich Zwingli was born in 1484 in Switzerland into a family of farmers. At age ten, he was sent to school in Basel, then three years later went to Bern. He studied under the Dominicans, and it’s possible he became a novice. However, he did not join the Dominicans and instead went to the University of Vienna and the University of Basel. He was ordained a priest in 1506.

He served as a pastor in Glarus, a city whose soldiers served as mercenaries all over Europe. Zwingli served as a chaplain for several campaigns in Italy against the French. However, after the Battle of Marignano in 1515, the city began to side more strongly with the French (against the Papal States).

Zwingli, loyal to the pope, left to Einsiedeln monastery for two years, retreating from politics. He grew convinced that mercenary service was immoral, and he furthered his theological studies. He began corresponding with humanists, and even met with Erasmus twice. During this time, his theology evolved. He grew strongly convinced that doctrine must be backed up by scripture (rather than scripture, tradition, and Church documents). In December 1518 a post opened up at the Grossmünster in Zurich; his positions on humanist reform and opposition to the French/Italian politics were welcomed in Zurich, and he became the priest at the Grossmünster. (Note that this is about 14 months after Luther in Germany has posted his theses.)

House of Protection

With the new laws allowing immigration officers to enter schools and churches, the concept of sanctuary has been on my mind. Sacred spaces have offered protection for millennia. There was an understanding that even a fugitive had the right to worship unimpeded. Greek and Roman temples offered this protection, and the early Christian churches did the same. In Rome, by law, a criminal claiming sanctuary in a sacred space could not be harmed, removed, or arrested. This gave the person and the authorities time to calm down and make rational decisions as well as gave the person claiming sanctuary permission to pray or repent. Further, it protected the church from being the site of violent clashes between authorities and criminals.

After the fall of Rome, Christian states still practiced sanctuary. It was seen as distasteful to bring weapons or secular authority into the sacred space of a church. Fugitives claiming sanctuary were often expected to convert (if not Christian), repent, or work to negotiate a peaceful resolution (such as exile without pursuit).

Over time, the practiced became less common, particularly after wealthy men abused the system, finding way to stay in sanctuary for long periods of time to avoid punishment rather than using it for immediate safety. In 1623, England outlawed the practice.

Most European countries didn’t have actual laws around sanctuary; it was just an understood practice that to enter a church in order to arrest someone was a violation of the sacred space.

Similarly, the U.S. held an unofficial practice of sanctuary—at times more respected than others. Churches protected escaping slaves in the nineteenth century and draft dodgers in the twentieth century.

Empathy is not a sin

What an exhausting few weeks.

The rapid-fire cruelly of those in control has been overwhelming for many who are paying attention. And inauguration day itself was not immune from it.

The National Cathedral is Episcopalian, but it also serves as the closest to a national church that the country has. It hosts interfaith prayer service and state funerals. Before election day, the theme of the service was set: “for all Americans, for the well-being of our nation, for our democracy.” Readings and songs revolved around themes of compassion and togetherness, including a reading from Deut. 10:17-21, on taking care of orphans and widows and all those in need.

The cathedral’s bishop, Bishop Mariann Budde, gave a sermon focused on unity, as one would expect. And boy, did some people hate it.

And what was so wrong about her words? She asked for mercy for those who are scared and marginalized. She didn’t say to condone their actions. She merely asked for those in power to remember the powerless, to have some empathy and compassion.

In response, right-wingers called for her to be defrocked, deported, and accused her of “the sin of empathy.” The vicious backlash to her sermon was striking—and also proved her point. There is no compassion being shown. Those in power are not expressing Christian virtues. And if they want to sit in her church for a prayer service to appear Christian, then she has every right—I’d say an obligation—to try to impress on them some Christianity.

If people are offended by a sermon on unity and compassion, I don’t think the problem is the sermon.