Do Good to Those who Hate You - Rev. Brenda Sol

I don't know if I've told this story before, but whenever I’m thinking about All Saints and the idea of us being encircled by our loved ones, who have gone before us, I think of the ways my mother modeled for me the words of this morning’s Gospel: “Do good to those who hate you.” Now, that doesn’t really sound like something one would laugh about, but our family did for several months.

Mom had a sort of collection of oddball friends and relatives; people she looked after and checked-in on, because they didn't have their own family—and, in a few cases, no other friends, either. There was my Great Aunt Velma, who regularly blamed my mom for anything awry in her nursing home room. A woman who was suffering from severe dementia and still trying to care for her son who struggled with an intellectual disability. And Lucille.

Lucille had basically been a drinking buddy of my grandmother's. Lucille smoked like a chimney, was not a happy person, and she constantly complained…about everything. But Mom cleaned Lucille’s walls, bought groceries for her, and drove her to doctor’s appointments. Everything shifted one morning, when Lucille called to yell at Mom for not checking-in on her after returning from a trip. Mom simply said, “Lucille, I just got back last night. And you can't talk to me like that,” and hung up. From then on, my father was sent to run Lucille’s errands.

The part we laughed about—the part that we relentlessly teased Mom about—was that the local mortuary called, one day, to double check on the funeral planning Lucille was doing in advance of her own death. The person explained, “Lucille says the two of you aren't talking, but that you will be in charge of her funeral.” And Mom being Mom, replied, “Yep.”

“Do good to those who hate you.” That’s just what we do in our family. And it’s what we do in our Christian family. We take care of all those we are able to. Thankfully, most people we try to help don’t hate us, but when one of us gets frustrated because someone complains that the hot breakfast we just fed them wasn’t hot enough, or that the mail they were expecting hasn’t been delivered and they think it’s our fault—when anything like that happens—we have the opportunity to check ourselves. Are we doing these helpful things so that we can feel good, or are we doing them because that’s what Jesus asks us to do?

Being a follower of Christ demands we love those who don’t necessarily love us—even those whom we might label our “enemies”. That’s spelled out for us by Jesus in today’s scripture. As you may know, this series of blessings and woes are referred to as the “beatitudes”, and they appear in two of the four Gospels. Matthew’s beatitudes are part of what is referred to as the “Sermon on the Mount”. But because the context is slightly different in Luke, Jesus’s teaching in this version is called the “Sermon on the Plain”.

Essentially, Jesus is trying to help his disciples—as well as us—understand the difference between the way of the world and the way of God. The world around us would like us to believe that success is measured in how much money we amass, how many luxury items we collect, and how much power we gain. In contrast, success on the path of discipleship—the way of God—is based on how much we are willing to share our resources with those who have less than they need.

Jesus is saying the stuff—the things of the world—are temporary. We won’t be taking that money, luxury items, or power with us when we leave this earthly plane. On the other hand, the ability to do good, to love others…that becomes our legacy…the effects of our choices will live on in those around us, the same way my mother’s memory inspires me.

So, being God’s “elect” doesn’t grant us special status. Being “called” by God makes us responsible. We’ve been chosen to become more and more like Christ. In God's world those who don't have enough are prioritized, and we are asked to help make up the gap in lacking needs.

Because these are such divisive times, and when preachers in other traditions are basically “cherry-picking” bits of scripture to make their point, I want to stress that our tradition prevents me and other Episcopal clergy from doing that. Some of you know, we use what's called the Revised Common Lectionary, which is also used by Methodist, Lutheran, Presbyterian, and UCC churches, while a similar version is used in the Roman Catholic church.

It's a three-year cycle of readings, so each Sunday, in all those denominations, you’ll hear the same readings. We are currently finishing up year “C” which focuses on the Gospel of Luke. Then, on the first Sunday of Advent, which is November 30 this year, we’ll start the new church calendar, and move into year “A”, with Matthew being highlighted. The following Advent, we’ll switch to year “B” with a focus on Mark. The Gospel of John is interspersed throughout each year, especially during Easter and Christmastide.

This morning’s readings were chosen by the crafters of the lectionary to help us celebrate All Saints’ day, which seemed like a fitting day to celebrate 60 years on Balour, because we don’t do this ministry in isolation. Our shared ministry began in 1885 by so many who have gone before us. So many dedicated people over the years, loving even when they weren’t loved back—taking care of each other and serving the community around us.

After St. Andrew’s purchased and built a multi-purpose building on this land in 1965, the parish hall was built by Helen Woodward to be used by us on Sundays, and utilized as the Senior Center and Meals-on-Wheels kitchen during the week. The saints who have gone before us worked hard to meet the unmet needs of the community and helped things like the first hospice program in North County get started. Later, other saints help found RefugeeNet. The list goes on and on.

And there are so many dedicated volunteers among us today, who will be remembered for the ways they modeled living into Jesus’s invitation to be generous with our resources, so that more people—inside and outside of our parish—experience God’s love.

Those resources include our time, talent and treasure. We can all be grateful for the energy and expertise so many lay leaders, vestry members and volunteers share with us and our neighbors every week.

One bit of theology I read recently, puts it this way: “The way we know who Jesus is, is to go where Jesus is, with the poor, the hungry and the oppressed.”[1] In the beatitudes, Jesus asks us to become one with those who suffer. But, it’s not a misery-loves-company sort of action, rather it’s that as we stand alongside the oppressed—by being with others in their suffering—we give them the same message that has comforted us during our own challenges—that we are not the only one this awful thing has happened to.

Others have also had cancer, had a spouse die too soon, lost a child to a tragic accident, gone bankrupt. And, in those periods of time, we carry each other through the suffering. We are a communion of saints. Or, as our Collect of the Day explains, we are “knit together” in “communion and fellowship”.

So as we celebrate those saints who went before us, and those among us now, may we—even when we’re not feeling the love in return—experience what that collect names as “those ineffable joys”. Because the world of God can be challenging to live out on a daily basis, but loving others—whether they love us back or not—is also so fulfilling and life-giving, that we often can’t find words to describe the joy God fills us with. Indeed, they are “ineffable joys”.

-AMEN

[1] Feasting on the Word, Year C, Volume 4, by Laura Sugg