“Do What?”
Seventh Sunday after Epiphany
February 20, 2022
Genesis 45:3-11, 15
Luke 6:27-38
A few months ago, as I was closing things up after Sunday evening worship, a young man came into the church begging for help. He was late on his rent, and his landlord had given him until that evening to come up with the remaining money or he would be evicted. If he didn’t have a place to live, he wouldn’t get to have his son for weekends. He needed someplace safe. I gave him some cash. I even connected him with a parishioner who needed a little help around their yard, and we went together, earning a bit more cash.
I emailed Alissa to see if the Good Samaritan fund could help. When she looked up his name, she discovered that he had been kicked off the UNL campus for conning people out of money—even using someone’s phone to somehow transfer money from their paypal account to his. I felt so stupid. I felt ashamed. I was conned. I was victimized. I hate feeling taken advantage of.
Recently, that same man was pulling his stunt in another neighborhood and happened across another parishioner who was incredibly generous and big-hearted. When they asked me about Good Sam and shared the name, I immediately told them not to give this man any money—but it was too late. They, too, felt ashamed by having been taken in by this guy.
So, what do we do with this text in those situations? What do we do with it when in the midst of an abusive relationship? Turn the other cheek and let them pound that side to a pulp, as well? What do we do when this passage is used against the goodness and kindness of God’s children?
I really struggled with this passage this week. It made me angry. I felt victimized all over again. I get that Jesus is instructing us to take care of each other and not seek revenge. But really, when is enough enough? At what point do we hold people accountable? This passage has long been used to justify abuse and victimization, and it makes me sick.
Several commentaries have helped me see this passage in a bit of different light. First, D. Mark Davis, on his Greek translation blog Left Behind and Loving It, connects this week’s passage with last week’s. Last week, we had the blessings to those who are poor and hungry and sad and cast out. And we had the warnings to those who are rich, full, happy, and popular. Trouble’s coming if you think that you’re in control and nothing will change.
And then today’s text begins, “BUT, I say to you who are listening…” But. Rather. Instead. It seems to connect to those who just received warning—to those who have it all: power, prestige, position. To those who have a choice in the matter: love your enemies, seek good for your opponents, bless those who curse you, pray for those who humiliate or abuse you. Take the high ground. You have the ability to do so.
I don’t think this is addressed to the housewife who has no access to the family finances, who covers her bruises with makeup, who cowers in the kitchen when her partner comes home angry—or drunk—or just looking for a punching bag. No. When Jesus suggests that you offer the other cheek to someone who strikes you, he is not talking to the person who has no unbattered cheek left to offer. He’s talking to those who could retaliate. Those who could seek and eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. Those who have clothes in the closet can certainly give their tunic, as well as their cloak without demanding them back. Again, it seems that those to whom this is most directed are those who have the ability—the power, position, and prestige—to not only get back at another but to do worse. And Jesus is saying, “Let it go.”
Another perspective I appreciate, though I’m not quite on board with, is from Jim Somerville, pastor at First Baptist Church in Richmond, VA. In a sermon he shared on the website A Sermon for Every Sunday, he also looks back at the crowd Jesus had been talking to. He imagines that they, like most Jews, had been awaiting a Messiah who would take down the Roman Empire through might and fight. Once they were healed, once they heard the message of blessings and woes, they clearly saw in their minds that the woes were directed to those in power—the Romans. They were waiting for Jesus to say the word—to call them into action. Knives and sticks at the ready, they awaited Jesus to lead the charge against Rome, itself.
Poised for action, perhaps they were shocked into silence as Jesus continued his teaching. “But I say, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you.” WHAT? If they were ready for a battle, Jesus dashed their hopes awfully quickly. In viewing it from the perspective of a nation awaiting a military victory, the passage shows us exactly how Jesus intends to attack. With love. Patience. Forgiveness. A willing death to show just how far he intends to go without retribution or violence.
It’s a possible scenario. And neither of these interpretations are meant to diminish the power of this text—to simply make it palatable. Instead, the intent is to protect those without power from those who would use this passage to justify further harm. And that brings me to a third approach in light of the text.
A year or so before Pastor Hennigs left Our Saviour’s, he wrote a book about forgiveness. I remember conversations with him about this, and just how challenging it is to think about forgiveness in light of being truly hurt. And yet, there is power in forgiveness. When we love our enemies, do good to those who hate us, bless those who curse us, and pray for those who abuse us, we aren’t just making ourselves doormats to be walked all over again and again. No. These actions can only be done with a sense of power over ourselves. I may not be able to control what you do—but I can control what I do.
I can forgive, love, do good, lend, bless, and pray without furthering my abuse. Because to forgive is first to call something what it is. If I say, “I forgive you for doing that to me,” there is an automatic and necessary accusation. You did it. You did it to me. Forgiveness isn’t contingent upon whether someone asks for or even accepts it. I can’t control you, but I can control me. “I forgive you for doing that to me.” I release myself. You can do with it what you want.
But forgiveness isn’t pardon. If you did something, there should be consequences. Forgiveness simply releases my emotions so that it truly is a consequence and not retaliation. If you stole a car, I can forgive you, but you’re still going to go to trial, and perhaps prison. If you abuse me, I can (hopefully) forgive you, but you still need to get out of my house—or my life—or whatever your situation. If you con me out of money, I can forgive you, but you can be sure that I don’t want you to do it to someone else—someone who may give more than they are able.
Pardon may come—a release from the consequences. Reconciliation may even happen, though there’s a LOT of things that have to take place before that. But forgiveness allows me to follow these instructions from Jesus with integrity for myself. Do good. Give money. Bless and pray for and love those whom you may see as your enemies, your opponents, those who would want to have power over you. Offer what is within your power to offer. But know the difference between willingly giving and being victimized.
We may carry our crosses, but we are not Jesus, and Jesus was not victimized. He willingly gave his life. He had the power to take it up again. He had the power to step down from that cross. He had the power to call down God’s mighty vengeance on all who sought his death. Instead, he operated, always, from a place of chosen humility and sacrifice. He died in this shameful and humiliating way in order to forgive all those who would shame and humiliate others. He died in order to forgive all those who would kill the goodness in this world. He died in order to forgive all those who would deny help to those being oppressed and bullied—remember, forgiveness comes with an accusation that forgiveness is necessary. He died for you and for me—to forgive us when we act poorly, and to empower us when we are victimized—to give us a choice as children of God.
Pastor Tobi White
Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church
Lincoln, NE
