August 28, 2005: What a Christian Looks Like
Romans 12:9-21; Psalm 105:1-6. 23-26. 45c

Eileen Parfrey, Pastor - Springwater Presbyterian Church

Romans today reads like we're overhearing parental advice as the kids are driven to camp. Mom and Dad explaining, "this is how a good camper acts, and it's what I expect of you." Hang up your towel, bus your dishes, don't play with matches, watch out for poison ivy, mind your counselor. There are so many instructions, it's hard to keep them all straight. Scholars can say that Paul is doing "a classic list of ancient Greek virtues," but all these imperative statements make me feel like the target on a shooting range. "Do this! Do this! Don't do this!" This is Paul's model Christian kit, and we've just snapped the parts off the manufacturer's frame. We are holding the glue, ready to start assembling. Until we get to verse 19. Suddenly, vengeance is the stick-on decal set, the customizing elements that bring this model Christian from gray plastic to decorative screaming flames. Which is so contrary to what most of us feel like doing, it makes Paul's point even stronger. What a Christian "looks like" is someone whose life is radically changed by the gospel.

Dear Abby's summary of Paul's list would be, "Do the classy thing; take the high road." In other words, kill your enemies with kindness. I used to like that part about heaping burning coals on your enemy's head, but then I got married. Frankly, it's a lot harder than it sounds. In the midst of a marital dispute, when the person you love more than anyone else in the world feels like your worst enemy, the prospect of heaping burning coals on their head is appealing. If only you could get to the "kindness" part. In the long run that would be much better. But in the short run, muttering and stomping are so much more satisfying. If only momentarily. Kill your enemy with kindness in the day-to-day of living, is as far from abstract as you can get. This is love in particular.

There used to be a politically incorrect bumper sticker that read, "I love mankind, it's people I can't stand." If what Paul has to say today about how to treat your enemies -how to be a Christian even when other Christians aren't around-if it sounds vaguely familiar, it's because maybe you've heard Jesus say the same thing. Not love-in-the-abstract. This is love-in-particular. Love as ordinary and particular as eating and drinking. Sure, sticking with a person during life's monumental catastrophes and joys, but more particularly in the challenge of mundane living, in ordinary times. In the daily-ness of gestures and meanings as simple as remembering to jelly all the way to the edge of the bread and cleaning the crumbs off the butter dish, changing the toilet paper roll when it's empty. Loving the janitor as much as the principal, enjoying the company of the mechanic as much as the senator, looking out for the interests of the kid who stutters and smells bad as ferociously as you do the interests of the stockholders.

Paul had us pegged. We love having enemies. It gives us someone else to focus on, someone to be against, someone to make us look wise and discerning. It's not natural to love your enemies. One of my more politically astute lectionary buddies says it's good politics to love your enemies because the way-of-the-world is that they don't stay our enemies for long. In the next power shift, more like as not, our enemies become our allies. Who in 1776 would have thought the Prime Minister of England would be our staunchest ally? Or in 1945 that Germany and Japan would be our trade partners? Or that Euro-Americans would be lured onto Native American lands in order to cheerfully hand over their money by the fistful?

Paul doesn't quote Jesus' advice about enemies for the sake of political strategy. Both Jesus and Paul knew that what we hate has a greater impact on us than it does on the object of our hatred. Loving our enemies may build an effective power base, but Jesus advocates it in order to transforms our lives. Francis of Assisi loathed one thing in the world more than any other-lepers. He hated lepers with revulsion as well as animosity. The most significant sign that Francis had experienced a transformation was the day he met a leper and jumped off his horse, to embrace him, kiss him on the lips, and give him his own tunic, coat, and sandals. That's getting the best of evil by doing good. That's love, not in the abstract, but in particular.

How could anyone-even someone as famous as the apostle Paul-how could anyone think that a list of imperative statements would change someone else's behavior? This is how The Message paraphrases Paul's advice about vengeance:

Bless your enemies; no cursing under your breath. Laugh with your happy friends when they're happy; share tears when they're down. Get along with each other; don't be stuck up. Make friends with nobodies; don't be the great somebody.

Don't hit back; discover beauty in everyone. If you've got it in you, get along with everybody. Don't insist on getting even; that's not for you to do. "I'll do the judging," says God. "I'll take care of it."

When Paul urges his readers (in the NRSV) to "live in harmony," he means "be of the same mind." Not "have identical opinions," but "have the same goal." Our humanity is not diminished when we arrive at the same place by different roads.

Doesn't it make sense that, if someone is hungry and you have the means of doing so, that you give that person some lunch? So what if it's someone who has done you dirt? What do you prove by always being right? Is the last word (on your terms) more precious than another's dignity? To allow another's opinion to differ from yours does not make you less lovable. Lockstep agreement can actually interfere with the refreshing and renewal of another person. That interfering doesn't sound much like either "Christian" or "community" to me. Let alone "gospel." When our pride-our fear of looking small in comparison to others-keeps us from saying "I'm sorry" we are the losers.

I've gotta agree with you. Loving your enemies is not natural. But neither is it vague and sentimental. Paul has no doubt in his mind but that loving God means we love and serve other humans. Especially other humans we don't especially like. This is not an encouragement to Christians to be holy doormats. Paul isn't saying "Roll over to be holy." Christians should not stand around and allow evil to run rough-shod over either others or themselves. Don't get even, because that's God's job. Even judging is God's job. The way we thwart evil is by using our God-given capacity for good to humiliate and expose evil for what it truly is. This is so contrary to the way things really are, so contrary to nature, that it has got to be God-given. For "good" to overcome evil is little short of miraculous. But it's one of the surest proclamations of the gospel we can make. Preach the gospel at all times, if necessary use words.