Preached at Urban Abbey
October 9, 2016
Matthew 5:38-41
‘You have heard that it was said, “An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.” But I say to you, Do not resist an evildoer. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also; and if anyone wants to sue you and take your coat, give your cloak as well; and if anyone forces you to go one mile, go also the second mile."
So. This is a hard scripture. Can I just admit that I like last week's scripture better? I’m not sure if you’ve met me. But if you have, you know that I am often up for a good rant. Especially after some…um…revelations about certain political figures this weekend. I have issued many a rant in my life about sexism and patriarchy, including about three yesterday.
This stuff really makes me angry. So I really wish I was preaching on last week’s scripture. I find it pretty satisfying to hear about table-flipping Jesus--the Jesus who gets all pissed and tells off the religious and political authorities who are exploiting the people. I like that scripture so much better in fact, that I spent some time studying it this week because I was genuinely trying to work out: what in the world does table-flipping Jesus have to do with this cheek-turning Jesus?
So I got out my trusty bible commentary, and the first thing it told me was that Jesus’ table flipping didn’t actually do anything to stop the injustice happening in the vast Temple complex. The temple was a gigantic structure and included among other things, a barn large enough to house thousands of sacrificial animals, an entire slaughter house, living quarters for the animals’ caretakers, as well as the area where pilgrims were exchanging their foreign currency and buying doves. And our commentator writes: “Jesus, even with the aid of his small band of disciples…could not have closed down or even disrupted the Temple business” [1]. So, at best, Jesus makes a scene, but the table-flipping doesn’t actually change things. But it is perhaps the most dramatic is a series of incidents that gets him crucified.
But let’s hold on that and talk about this week’s scripture. It is part of the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus’ first major teaching opportunity in the Gospel of Matthew. In this section, Jesus is giving instruction on how to live in the kingdom of God. Here, Jesus warns those listening against retaliation. He advises them that when struck, they should turn the other cheek. But first he says, “You have heard that it was said, “An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.” Now, Jesus is not rejecting this law of his Jewish tradition. This law opposed unlimited revenge. It would be illegal, for example, to kill someone because they had stolen a chicken. It might be akin to present day limits on the death penalty. Someone might receive the death penalty for murder in the first degree, but they would not receive it for anything less than that. As a society, we have for many years, made this eye-for-an-eye part of our judicial system.
And Jesus is affirming that yes, this is good. It’s good to set limits on revenge. But. (That’s classic Jesus. “But I say…”) It’s even better to receive a blow, to receive an offense, and not retaliate at all. That’s what living in the kingdom of God looks like. Jesus’ instructions are about responding to offense in a different and somewhat shocking way. In his culture, someone has a legal right to sue you for your coat. And Jesus says, then give them your cloak as well (which would in ancient times render you naked). Another example: a Roman soldier can force you to walk a mile with him, to help carry his pack. And Jesus says, walk two miles with him instead. Help him out.
Now these responses are unexpected. Rather than concerning yourself about the fact that your rights were violated, that your well-being was compromised, Jesus says to genuinely respond with compassion and generosity to the other - even to those who have hurt us.
I do not like this.
I do not like this at all. I do not want to forgive or be compassionate when I’m offended. I want to lash out and put down, and honestly sometimes inflict pain on those who have hurt me or hurt the people I love…especially then. That’s why I love table-flipping Jesus.
But this turn-the-other-cheek Jesus.
And yet, I am a Christian. It means I have to take our Christian story seriously. Both the table flipping Jesus. And turn-the-other-cheek Jesus. Because there’s this. We know that in the temple story, Jesus doesn't drive out every last money changer and victoriously reclaim the temple for God's glory. Jesus doesn't turn out to be the new King David who militarily ousts the Roman Empire. Instead, Jesus dies on a cross. Jesus' radical turning of the cheek doesn't miraculously foil the empire and force a new Christian empire on the world. If you've looked around lately, you know that Jesus’ death did not instantaneously oust the powers of darkness and evil. Because we still seem to be operating mostly under empire values.
See, the empire teaches us that one must exercise power, often through violence, over one's enemies in order to create peace and justice…that enemies are to be destroyed, killed, ousted, or at the very least disregarded or silenced, so that we can take what is rightfully ours. These are the empire values of domination and retribution. And they have infected our nation, ourselves, possibly our families, and even our church - but Jesus teaches us that empire values have no part in the kingdom of God. Jesus' death on the cross did not establish a new domination structure with his followers on top. His death on the cross created a movement of people who believe that the kingdom of God is both here and coming to fullness - not through violence and domination and retribution - but through world-changing acts of compassion and forgiveness and God-empowered restoration.
And I will be the first to admit that Christianity often doesn't look that way. But sometimes it does.
This October 2nd marked ten years since the West Nickel Mines shooting in an Amish one-room schoolhouse in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. A man named Charles Roberts shot 10 girls that day, ages 6–13, and killed five of them before killing himself. [2]
And the Amish community – the mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles and grandparents of those girls – they forgave him.
Part of me hates this. I have an eleven-year-old daughter, and I cannot possibly imagine forgiving a grown man who would do any harm to her. I am almost sure I could not do that.
And yet. And yet, there is something that happens in me when I hear this story--when I heard that the Amish families of the girls who were killed responded in such a shockingly different way. Terri Roberts is the mother of the man who committed this atrocity. Here is how she described what happened at her son’s funeral:
“That week, we had a very private funeral for our son. But as we went to the gravesite, we saw 30-40 Amish start coming out from around the side of the graveyard. And they surrounded us like a crescent. And love just emanated from them.”
And Roberts tells other stories of the community’s response: the relative of one of the girls showing up at their house soon after the shooting, offering forgiveness and comforting her husband. The story of how the community continues to support her as she battles cancer.
Roberts continues, saying:
“I will never forget the devastation caused by my son. I mean, especially in the situation with Rosanna. Rosanna’s the most injured of the survivors. Her injuries were to her head. She is now 15, still tube-fed and in a wheelchair…and that’s certainly not the life that this little girl should have lived. So I asked if it would be possible that I might come and help with Rosanna once a week. So I read to her, I bathe her, dry her hair…” [3]
I am overwhelmed when I hear about the compassion offered – in the name of Christ – by the Amish community of Nickel Mines to the Roberts family. I am in awe when I hear about the compassion that flows out of Terri Roberts in response.
And I also feel terribly inadequate. I can't even react with compassion to small offenses: harsh words exchanged with my partner, my daughter not cooperating when I am tired at the end of a busy day. Some guy I don’t even know saying something irritating on Facebook. It’s so easy to be angry… And I know I cannot possibly embody this transformative spirit of compassion through my own sheer willpower.
But when I look at the Amish Community of Nickel Mines, I sense that God can do it through me. And God can do that through you. And maybe it’s possible for us to be that kind of Christian community that embodies God’s compassion in shocking and world-transforming ways.
And if God can do that through all of us, then a radically different world is coming.
May it be so.
Amen.
[1] Boring, M. Eugene. Gospel of Matthew. New Interpreter’s Bible Commentary. Vol. 8. Page 405.
[2] http://www.woosterweeklynews.com/article/20120405/NEWS/704059977/-1/wwn26
[3] http://www.npr.org/2016/09/30/495905609/a-decade-after-amish-school-shooting-gunman-s-mother-talks-of-forgiveness
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