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The Church of
Our Saviour
in the Town of Secaucus, New Jersey
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Forgive and
be free
Reflections on the
lessons for the Seventh Sunday after the Epiphany
18 February 2001
By The Rev. Mark A.
Lewis, Vicar
Genesis 45:3-11,21-28 / Psalm
37:3-10
1 Corinthians 15:35-38,42-50 / Luke 6:27-38
Epiphany 7, Year C 18 February 2001
Luke 6:27-38 Our Saviour
I started working on this week's lessons on
Wednesday of last week. Valentine's Day. And stories about
loving your worst enemies. I had a pretty good time thinking
up Hallmark cards based on the lessons, lacy,
hearts-and-flowers things with verses like "If you love
someone who loves you back, where's the credit in that for
you?" and "Happy Valentine's Day to a terrific brother who
sold me into slavery."
It'll never catch on. Because the
kind of love the Bible talks about isn't the same kind that
sells red-foiled, heart-shaped boxes of candy or
double-priced roses. Valentine's Day focuses on a very
instinctual and understandable kind of love. Most people
know a little something about the original Valentine. Fewer
-- and I was among those who didn't know this -- realize
that there are two Valentines that the church finally jammed
together and set up on the same holy day.
Which is the patron saint of
romantic love? Take your choice. One Valentine, was a priest
in Rome who was martyred on the Flamian Way during the
persecution under Claudius II in 269 or so, on February 14.
Some few details are known of him. Tradition has it he was
badly beaten, and although he restored the sight of a
jailer's blind daughter (or maybe because he did so?) he was
beheaded. Legend says his last letter from the slammer to a
pal -- not a girlfriend -- was signed, "from your
Valentine."
The other Valentine, a bishop from
the town of Terni in Italy, was martyred a few years later
in the same persecution. And that's all anyone seems to know
about him. The two Valentines were assigned this day until
fairly recently when the Roman Catholic Church did some
housecleaning in its calendar. One has been dumped (the
bishop). The other has been reduced to the rank of a pious
legend.
It's a curious holiday. Some people
love it. Some hate it. Some just ignore it. The most
elaborate celebration of the day I see each year takes place
downstairs here in the nursery school where each child is
carefully coached and regulated to give a valentine card to
every other child in the class. That's actually one of the
oldest traditions around the day. Older even, that the
patronage of Valentine himself.
In Pre-Christian Britain the
Anglo-Saxon natives had a festival this time of year. The
Ides of February (the 15th) was for centuries a country
festival in honor of Februata Juno. The Roman goddess of
"feverish" love. Febrile. February. Blindfolded boys picked
love notes out of a hat and promised to go steady with
whichever girl wrote the one they drew -- to try the match
on for size -- beginning March 1st, New Year's Day in those
times. Sooner or later, a wedding would come out of it all.
Another source of fun and games was
the Lupercalia in mid-February as well. It honored the wolf
that raised the infants Romulus and Remus -- the founders of
the City of Rome. Later, the festival more directly honored
the god Pan, who protected flocks from the Lupus, the wolf.
In England, birds were said to pick their mate for the
season on February 14. Chaucer mentions St. Valentine's Day
"when every fowl cometh to choose her mate."
But the readings today aren't about
romance. They set an unreasonably -- even impossibly -- high
standard for love. Luke's Jesus is talking about a love that
Hallmark has no card for, a weighty love that paper lace
cannot bear. I tremble to talk about it. I flounder around
in the readings looking for something that helps me think I
can live up to even the bottom rung of the kind of love the
Bible holds out for our salvation.
We are called to love by treating
others -- all kinds of others -- as we are treated by God.
An extraordinary way of behaving. And only possible with
God's help -- only possible for those who are aware of God's
love to begin with. It's a challenge to work with Jesus to
transform anger into a way of living that more closely
reflects what Paul calls "the image of the heavenly One."
The Bible scholar Stanley Hauerwas
wrote "Christianity is not beliefs about God plus behavior.
To become a Christian is to step away from the so-called
reasonable world and become part of a different community
with a different set of practices."
And that includes the amazing
stipulation Jesus makes: To love our enemies. "Love your
enemies" Jesus says it outright. And you know he isn't being
metaphorical. He's talking about people who treat us badly
us, and whom we can't abide. And that goes for everyone from
the bothersome neighbors to the long list of perfectly
hateful people published in the newspaper every single
morning.
One of my favorite writers, Anne
Lamott, in her collection of essays Travelling Mercies,
quotes C. S. Lewis on enemies:
"If we really want to learn how to
forgive, perhaps we had better start with something easier
than the Gestapo."
She goes on to tell how the parent
of a fellow pupil with her son, in first grade, was "warm
and friendly" but in her "I had an enemy -- an Enemy Lite .
She did not have an ounce of fat on her body -- and I
completely hate that in a person." And she still had a
Ronald Reagan bumper sticker on her Volvo seven years after
he left office.
Like Lamott, most of us confine our
loathing to Enemies Lite. But that doesn't make it any less
detructive. "Refusing to forgive," she writes, "is like
drinking rat poison and then waiting for the rat to die."
She thought awful things about her "Enemy Lite," things so
bad that "I cannot even say them out loud because they would
make Jesus want to drink gin straight out of the cat dish."
Joseph was sold into Egypt by his
brothers. He was betrayed into slavery by the very people he
thought he could trust completely. He had every reason to
keep his brothers on a list of Enemies Lite, at least. But
when they came to him for help, not knowing who he was, he
lost control and wept. Then he showed himself to them and
said, "I am your brother Joseph, whom you sold into Egypt."
More Lamott: "The Christian
mystique is essentially liberating: it liberates us so that
we in turn may liberate others. In the message of the Bible,
inner slavery and outer bondage are deeply linked."
Toward the end of his life, Martin
Luther heard a rumor that the Pope's attitude towards him
was softening. Luther wrote Leo an apology, but in it he
blamed the Pope's advisers for all the evil in the church,
and urged the Pope to quit the papacy and go back to being a
simple parish priest. The letter was published as the
preface to Luther's essay "The Freedom of a Christian."
Where Luther says, "The Christian is utterly free, master of
all, slave to none; this is best shown when the Christian is
the willing slave of all. "
Paradoxical, yes. But Jesus'
teachings are soaked in paradox and seeming irrationalities.
When we forgive, we really don't forget, as God is able to
do. But when we forgive a kind of magic happens. When
forgiveness is real, it bestows freedom, not only on the
offender, but on the offended.
That's what enabled Joseph then to
do good for his brothers, indeed to save the future of the
people of God, if we read the family tree. It frees us all
to bless, it frees us to do good, it stays the judgement, it
lifts the condemnation, it is God's permission to go on
Loving, to go on reflecting the image of the Heavenly One.
-- Mark Lewis
Your comments or questions are welcome MLewis@secaucus.org.
Links to additional "Reflections on
Lessons" may be found at the bottom of the Sunday web page.
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