The words
below are a sermon shared by my Grandfather, Terrence Bailey, in August 1957, he was
27 years old. Terrence died long before I was born so his sermons are an
important window into the life of someone I have few ways of knowing. I share
this today because it speaks to us here in 2016 about how we find a Christian response to current
circumstance.
YOU HAVE
HEARD THAT IT WAS SAID, “YOU SHALL LOVE YOUR NEIGHBOUR AND HATE YOUR ENEMY.”
BUT I SAY TO YOU “LOVE YOUR ENEMIES, AND PRAY FOR THOSE WHO PERSECUTE YOU.”
Matthew 5:43-44.
Judging by one or two novels I’ve been reading lately, it seems to be the
impression that the parson is meant to instil into the people on Sunday the
sort of airy-fairy platitudinous idealism which nobody in their right senses
would dream on trying seriously on Mondays. From what I gladly know of Methodist
Worship, I am convinced that that is quite untrue (it was probably true of the
Church of England of 1730!), but occasionally it crops up, and with certain
themes: “Love your enemies.”
It’s an idea we laugh at
– secretly – and it’s certainly one we don’t take much notice of. We miss (and
it is a real loss) we miss its challenge and its opportunity because we
misunderstand “Love”. Let me try and suggest to you some of the masks of the
love of God, which, reflected, becomes our love for those who have no time for
us, and I hope that by them I shall assure you that this is nothing
pasty-faced, but virile, and positive, and triumphant. I don’t want to argue
about pacifism or anything like that (you can do that afterwards): all I want
to establish is something worth working on, something which will challenge,
something which will make us think again.
I, LOVE IS ACTIVE (AND NOT
PASSIVE)
I think a lot of the difficulties about the suggestion of loving enemies
is the picture of the Christian as a door-mat. The Christian, it says, isn’t
supposed to show any fight: love is to take what is coming to you (whether it
be a punch on the nose or an allegation about the church) with passive
equanimity (emphasising the passive).
In the Gospels there
seems to be two totally conflicting pictures of the attitude of Jesus towards
his enemies (so much so that some people have felt that this disproved his
sinlessness, in that sometimes he didn’t seem to be loving his enemies).
Compare those occasions – the fierce denunciations of the Scribes and
Pharisees, “hypocrites”, or the expulsion of the black marketers from the
temple, with the cross: “Father, forgive them” (and the “them” applied to the
same the same men). People have seen in the cross an offensive on the part of
the enemies of Jesus, matched by a passive Christ who let himself be crucified,
let himself be slandered and spat upon, without a murmur. And that, they say,
is loving your enemies.
That conception, which
seems so very close to precious facts, has, I am sure, one vital mistake. It
was Jesus who started the battle. (Excuse all these military metaphors: they
have always been appropriate in the sense of spiritual battling against the
forces of evil, although it is rather outrageous that – on those grounds alone
– people have justified Christians fighting in the literal sense (the “logic”
goes: Paul uses warfare as an illustration, therefore warfare must be
Christian; on the contrary, this morning I used as an illustration a slogan
advocating the drinking of Pimms No.1 – so what?!). But that is a parenthesis.)
It was Jesus who started
the battle, and not those who crucified him. If it hadn’t been for the
deliberate intention of Jesus, the crucifixion would never have happened. But,
in fact, he arranged the whole situation: when they in a fit of rage wanted to
seize him while he was still in the rural backwaters, he evaded them, but when
he moved towards Jerusalem, nothing the disciples could do could stop him: he
placed himself where he knew they would respond, because he knew it was the
only way that men could be shown in unmistakeable terms the sin of man and the
love of God. Calvary is like (if it isn’t too crude an illustration) a place on
an arterial road with two great floodlit hoardings which no one passing by car
will miss, and on the first one there is a cross with the words “This is what
sin can do and has done”, and on the second a cross, and the words “But love is
stronger.” And it was Jesus who, by the determination of his fearless love,
erected both signs.
The offensive was the
active love of Christ trying somehow to break through, and, by the side of
that, the trial, the scourging, the spitting, the crucifying, are a mockery of
a counter-attack that failed.
Now I want you to apply
that – to the opportunity of loving those who are set against us: love is
active. It doesn’t look like it, I know; it looks as if, like Jesus, we are
letting them with their weapons, do what they will, letting them hit the other
cheek while we do nothing. I think the reason Jesus talked about turning the
other cheek was this: you are meant to be so totally concerned with this active
mental and spiritual weapon of love, so totally given over to caring for the
other man, that you haven’t time to care for yourself, and if they choose to go
on counter-attacking (in the only way they know, like Caiaphas and Pilate),
that’s their concern and not yours.
You know (or you ought
to) the story of Edith Carell, who because she was a Christian decided that her
nursing must not be confined to the wounded of her own country, and she started
caring for Germans and English when Germans were enemies. Her conduct made both
sides suspicious of treachery, but she knew it wasn’t true, and continued that
work. Eventually in desperation they shot her, but men take notice of Edith
Carell now: she had a vital active power which men are beginning to appreciate:
love is active.
II, LOVE IS BENEVOLENT
I chose that word rather impishly, because it is another of these words
that has been devalued in meaning, so that[i]
it has come to mean something soft, which, for the sake of not giving offence,
lets evil run riot – and that’s a hint of another misunderstanding about loving
your enemies. But I want to use “benevolence” literally: love is concerned with
doing good to those who are doing evil. Extend it a bit and say that
love is something which is working by all means to redeem, to change, to save
the objectionable and the evil. And the thing that must be emphasised is
this: that when those saving purposes demand it, love is tough: it does not, and it must not, mean tolerating evil.
Let me use a rather
weird sort of analogy. If a couple of mixed race (for instance, the husband an
African and the wife English) go into South Africa – if they were allowed in –
and at any stage they wanted to go into a park and have a rest, they would come
to not one seat but two, the one marked “Europeans Only” and the other “Natives
and Coloured Only”, so that man and wife would have to sit on separate seats.
To us that separation is unthinkably wrong; but that ought to be true too of
another apartheid: the supposed incompatibility between love on the one hand
(which is soft) and discipline and severity and anger on the other.
Love is “benevolent”,
writing for good, for the good of those who are evil, AND DISCIPLINE IS ONE OF
THE INSTRUMENTS OF TRUE LOVE. I think that’s why Jesus attacked the Pharisees
in the terms her did: somehow he must try to shatter their thick-skinned
superiority. You don’t stand much chance of getting inside the skin of a
rhinoceros with a pea-shooter, and Jesus knew that, if he was to stand any
chance at all of making the Pharisees come to their senses he would have to
stab, and stab hard, until it hurt: “Scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites!” – that
is one of the ways of love.
You know examples of
this which bear out what I’ve said. Those of you who are Mums and Dads (this is
where I venture into unknown territory, but I think safely!): when one of the
children (what shall we say -) drops a bottle of ink, and splashes the
wallpaper, you punish the child (not maybe by giving it a hiding, because some Christians
seem to have other equally effective ways, but none the less really), you
punish the child so that it may do better, so that it may realise what when
children are naughty it costs trouble and time and money, so that they may grow
up more responsible. Sometimes those aren’t the motives (sometimes it’s because
all the fuss has interrupted the telly!), but true parenthood is built totally
on love which uses tough ways where tough ways are necessary.
The other example is an
obvious one: prison life (as men are caring to see it). A man is sent to
prison, not to get rid of a nuisance, but to change a nuisance, to try (and
it’s sometimes successful) to send him out a responsible man. If ever
there was a loving purpose, it’s that, but it is built on tough
discipline (and I wish the people who talked about prisons being soft would try
one).
That’s the second thing
I want you to think about – the benevolence, the working in all ways for
the good of the wrongdoer which characterises true agapé. Build that into your
ideas of loving the enemy.
III, LOVE IS UNILATERAL
You’ll see that if we trace back for a moment men’s ideas of retribution.
We read the cruel story of Achan, where, because he disobeyed orders and
brought defeat on his side, not only he but his wife and family and his
livestock were all killed by the tribe. There was a reason for that kind of
retribution, because they thought that, because children had the same blood in
their veins as their father, they had the same characteristics, and would only
do what their father had done. But retribution for the crime was worse, and
went further than, the crime itself. So you see how much of an advance it was
when the Jews said, in effect “only one eye for an eye” – when someone kills
your brother you must only kill him (not his grandma and first cousins into the
bargain). “Let the punishment fit the crime” – retribution and crime are equal.
But then Jesus comes along and takes it to the third stage: Love which is
prepared to reprieve and punish and build again. Mary Magdalene, or the man on
the cross, were emphatically sinners, self-acknowledged ones, but for the sake
of building in them something worthwhile, Jesus befriended and forgave. Love is
totally unrelated to merit in the other person: love is (to use this topical
word) unilateral.
I think it’s time we
questioned this word “love”. If you often go past Piccadilly Circus (says he,
looking straight at the gallery!) you will immediately know what I mean when I
say there is a thing in the middle up which people three parts gone climb. And
the little winged statue of Eros is a symbol of “Epos” one of the Greek words
for “love”, and it means something mutual, something which both people find
evoked in one another; there is something lovable which makes you want
to love. I hope no young ladies feel embarrassed at this stage, but I want to
illustrate. If you go to the office the morning after a date, and say “he
kissed me last night”, I don’t think you’re being honest; if you were truly
representing the action, I suspect that you would say “We kissed one another
last night” (you had more of a hand or lip in it than you make out). Epos is
something mutual, something (if you like) “bilateral”. But that is never used
in the New Testament.
The New Testament word
is Agapé (and, in case you don’t know how to spell it, its got a code number:
727, look up in the hymn book, and you’ll find that no. 727 has a tune called
“Agapé”). Now ἀyaπɳ is totally different: it is almost unknown in anything
earlier than the Greek Bible, and it means a love which is not shared, not
evoked, but a ‘one-sided’ love. The ἀyaπɳ of God is like that, God loves us,
not because he sees something in us that is worth loving, not even because he
sees potential good in us: ἀyaπɳ is just something unrelated to merit.
(You remember St. Paul’s words: “God shows his love for us in that, while we
were yet sinners, Christ died for us.”) Unilateral ἀyaπɳ.
You’ll soon think of
examples of where that idea is needed. I can’t resist saying that it is no
wonder that Communists have got this spurious name as peacemakers: however
empty their offers may be, it is repeatedly the Communists who make the offer,
which we sit tight and say “If you come half-way to meet us – first – we’ll
follow.” But I want to leave it there, because it is you who must apply it – in
your own situations.
APPEAL
Love is active, and not passive; love is (in the real sense) benevolent;
love is unilateral. I’m told (by those quite a bit older than myself!) that
during the Great War a poster appeared, with the finger of Kitchener pointing,
and the words “Your King and Country Needs YOU;” there is a poster with
a Cross, and the words “God and Every Nation Under Heaven Needs You,” to
attack your enemies, and to destroy them – by making them your friends.
[i] So that
it immediately conjures up a picture of the aged and no doubt saintly vicar who
potters up to the local village louts who are throwing stones through the
stained-glass windows and who says to them: “Now, children, you really
shouldn’t do that should you now?” And when he gets a straight retort merely
potters away muttering something about what children are like these days –
WITHOUT DOING ANYTHING. That’s a caricature – and it’s a caricature of love.