• Love your enemies

    This is the sermon I preached for 24 February 2019

    In the name of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

    Almost exactly two years ago, I walked up the stairs to this pulpit on a Sunday morning and I saw something that I cannot see today.

    As I grasped the rail and walked up the steps and the organ played a jolly improvisation to get me into place, I saw a flash of colour outside the door at that back of the church.

    Someone in a dark uniform and a yellow jacket standing guard at the door. And two thoughts flashed through my head that I had never thought before whilst getting into the pulpit.

    I thought… Well, I’ll come back to that in a moment.

    But anyway, I preached the sermon. And life went on.

    Two years ago, it did feel a little bit as though we were under siege. In response to a service at which we shared our experience of Christ’s birth with local Muslim friends and asked them to share their tradition of that birth with ourselves, this church received a considerable amount of correspondence.

    Some of it was positive and encouraging. Some of it was the most vile messages of hate that I’ve ever read.

    It was coming in many forms. Email, online messages and old fashioned letters through the post.

    And it was some of those old fashioned letters through the post which contributed particularly to us having a police presence at church. The content was sufficiently unpleasant that there was deemed to be an unknown risk to my safety in particular and to us as a congregation.

    I have to say that Police Scotland helped us deal with that situation in an exemplary manner and I will forever be grateful for the way in which they dealt with us.

    At one time, the civil authorities in this city would have been less supportive of this congregation but things have changed over a couple of centuries and we’ve been wonderfully supported by people who take risks on our behalf.

    Last week, on Thursday, the person who sent the worst of all those messages was convicted in the Sherriff Court of Serious and Threatening Behaviour through sending sexually abusive messages aggravated by homophobia and transphobia.

    He will face sentencing next month.

    Dealing with the court system has been lengthy and not terribly pleasant. The person accused chose to defend himself and thus, those of us giving evidence had to be cross-examined by the person who had sent the original abuse.

    But a conviction came in the end.

    The end of a process and it felt very much to me as though that page was finally turned over and life could begin again.

    And so I came home from the court and fished out the readings for today to begin thinking about what to preach about.

    And Jesus said, “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you.”

    Scripture has a way of cutting through to how things really are.

    And so I’ve had to think about what that means to me, right now, right this week, with all that going on.

    The first thing I think as I reflect on that reading is that the person who sent this material doesn’t feel like an enemy at all. I’d never met him before the court case. He isn’t someone in my life. He may regard those of us preaching an inclusive version of Christianity as enemies.

    But I have no response to make to hatred but the love of God.

    Jesus is right. A blessing on the heads of all who hate. May their hatred be dissolved by love. May they be blessed, completely blessed by love.

    Let us have no enemies except poverty, homophobia, sexism, abusive behaviour, ignorance, anti-Semitism, domestic and corporate expressions of violence, transphobia, addiction, racism and all that makes people fear the other.

    And let them each melt under the power of love.

    A properly working criminal justice system takes revenge out of our hands anyway. Thank God.

    So, let love be all we say in response to hate.

    For it is all the teaching we have.

    Love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return. Your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High; for he is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked.

    Kindness, I think has the gospel planted deep inside it.

    Two years ago, as I climbed the steps up into the pulpit, I thought, “This is the moment when someone might try to shoot me”.

    I’ve never thought that before though I do remember vividly sitting next to Gene Robinson in 2008 when he was here and facing active death threats.

    I never want to think that again. And that makes me want to speak out against the experience of those who worship in fear every week, including those in this and other Scottish cities for whom fear is a way of life.

    And the second thought that I had as I climbed into the pulpit two years ago was that I was grateful that the sermon was already printed and sitting in the pulpit.

    I remember thinking – “well if anything happens to me, there’s something up there that tells people they are utterly loved by God”.

    You’ve heard me preach for years, most of you. You know that’s pretty much all I have to say.

    And it is sufficient.

    This year during Lent there will be devotional addresses at Choral Evensong. I’ve asked Matthew, Audrey, Helena and John to join me in reflecting on the topic – “If I had just one more sermon to preach”.

    And I have my suspicions that there will be much to link those sermons together.

    Christianity has something simple at its core.

    For all we do inspired by Jesus is to keep on preaching and living and telling the same good news….

    You are loved.

    In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.
    Amen.

66 responses to “Sermon Preached on 9 October 2011”

  1. kelvin Avatar

    Now, I think we are in danger of moving away from commenting on the sermon that was posted above.

    Further comments that are focused on that sermon are welcome. I think that I will exercise my perogative and choose not to host any further debates on this thread unless they pertain directly to the orginal post.

    Several comments from those of differing opinions have been gently hushed.

  2. Alan McManus Avatar

    I remember hearing you preach this sermon, Kelvin, and being surprised at your take on it. Mine, I now realise (thanks for the research, Rosemary), came from Augustine (via my RC school chaplain, now happily married, whose constant theme was the love of God for us). It’s difficult to revise views learned while young as the evidence we accepted as children is not always acceptable to our adult minds – if we chose to review it. So I sympathise both with my coreligionist and with our Cromwellian interlocutor, despite their abrasive tone and the fun we can have with bowels and prostrates: they appear both to speak the truth as they see it. But so does everyone else commenting – and some (like Jaye) read the Hebrew scriptures in the original. I like the interpretation put forward by Kenny and Agatha and just because it was a convenient one for Augustine doesn’t mean it has to lack truth. So I turned to the Greek for backup and the first word that struck me was Ἀρίστων (ariston) which has connotations of excellence and survives in ‘aristocrat’. This king calls his ‘banquet’ (Jerusalem Bible) literally ‘my excellence’ – and he’s obviously gone all out. So none of the big wigs turn up and he goes all inclusive and gets the good and the bad in. Then throws a hissy fit about the dress code. He sounds A LOT like me when I’m directing. Then I noticed there’s a lot of play on IN and OUT (even ‘crossroads’ is διεξόδους – diexodous – way out ways?) and the final words are a pun on κλητοί (kletoi – named/ invited) and ἐκλεκτοί (eklektoi – called/ chosen).
    Now I suspect that shackling a quest hand and foot and shoving him out the door into outer darkness (the Greek word for darkness is the Classical root of ‘Scotland’!) may have put a rather gloomy outlook on the evening’s festivities. Could that be the point? It’s sandwiched between the parable of the wicked husbandmen that has the son of vineyard owner exit sharply and the trap Jesus escapes about taxes.
    With all this about ‘who’s in who’s out?’ and ‘which side of the coin are you on?’ can we take this passage with a pinch of Paul (and Augustine, and Cromwell) and say ‘our righteousness is as filthy rags before the Lord’? So the point is not how we are named/ that we are invited but that the church (ekklesia) we are chosen and called to be is not one of domineering control freaks throwing hissy fits because the excellence of their table arrangements has been spoilt by someone not following rubrics. Or by (ditto) because their nice ideas about biology (JS, once you mention ‘purpose’, no biologist will take you seriously) have been spoilt by people in love. St Mary’s is a great liturgical feast indeed. Everyone goes all out for excellence. Yet I’ve seen the oddest-dressed people doing the oddest things (me late, again, in my glad rags included) welcomed. The RC Church in Scotland, of whose hierarchy I am deeply deeply ashamed, would do well to stop whitewashing sepulchers and start calling the clergy and laity in their charge to inclusive love.

    1. Alan McManus Avatar

      That should be άριστον, guest, εκλεκτοί. Transliteration is correct, it was the cut and paste that was slapdash. Fortunately my phone does Greek (no pun intended) but it doesn’t do breathings.

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