Seventh Sunday after the Epiphany

One of the ways the culture of the Pacific Northwest is described is that we’re the “Nones.” Not “nuns” like “Catholic Nuns” living in a convent. Quite the opposite, in fact. We’re a culture where, on surveys when asked about religious affiliation, people check, “None.” They have no religion.

There are a lot of reasons for this, of course, too many for me to lecture on with any kind of authority. I’m no anthropologist or sociologist. But I am a priest. I have some confidence of what the church is called to be. In the language of our parish mission, the church is called to be like Jesus. And I am quite certain, that were the church – not just St. John’s or the Episcopal Church, but the church at large – were the church to be living the way Jesus described in today’s gospel, there would be far fewer people checking, “None” on those surveys.

Love your enemies.

Bless those who curse you.

Pray for those who abuse you.

Do not judge or condemn.

It’s not that people are chomping at the bit to live this way. But they do want to see a church that does. Because – as hard or unappealing as loving enemies may be – it’s exactly the kind of humanity our hearts want to believe can be possible. And, despite the world’s dismissal of the church as hypocritical or superstitious or irrelevant, there yet abides a hope, that they – at least – might be able to pull it off.

This is the stuff of “pure religion.” It’s not just doctrine or credal statements about what you must believe in order to be saved. It’s far less intellectually certain than all that. And far more elementally identified, by our spirits, as the better way.

And, surely, it is this kind of truly holy living that our secular society has witnessed far too infrequently. It’s not to say it doesn’t exist in the church. But it’s not what they’ve seen. The public expression of the church is more often about protecting itself than giving itself away. It is more about judgement and condemnation than it is about loving our critics. It is more about saddling up to worldly power than caring for those the world’s powers care least about.

These are especially difficult days to be people of faith. And when I say “difficult,” it has nothing to do with the difficulty of being ignored or disrespected by the “nones” in our society – as if the church were enduring some kind of “passive persecution.” No. It’s difficult because we’re all part of the same world. Whether you’re a “nun” in a convent” or a “none” with no religion at all, we’re all shaped by the same culture. We’re all enduring the same circumstances. We’re all in this together. And we’re all just as vulnerable to the same narratives that saturate our newsfeed and rehearse themselves in conversations.

But what the church has to offer, is the hope of a parallel reality, the hope – that in the midst of all these woes – there is another narrative that remains true. And not just “remains true,” but is (in its way) even more true.

It is the alternative narrative that Jesus offers – and offers so clearly in our gospel reading today.

The simple genius of Jesus’ upside-down message is that he takes what we know to be good and true in our loving relationships – the kindness and generosity and generativity we experience with close friends and family – he takes that and says, if it true for them, it must also be true for everyone. It’s that simple.

You enjoy buying your granddaughter a gift? So buy a gift for your neighbor who voted for “the other” candidate (and who leaves her garbage cans out by the street for too many days after pick up).

You forgive your spouse for coming home late for dinner without telling you? So forgive your ex-spouse for their affair.

Now, of course, it’s easier to bless those who bless you, and easier to forgive small infractions than massive betrayals. And Jesus knows that. But the point is, if the supremacy and power of love is true in one kind of relationship, it is true in the other as well. And all the more so.

And when we gather as a church – week after week, interaction after interaction – the heart of what we’re doing is reinforcing the hope of this other reality. And the heart of that reality is God, who is love. Which means everything else in this entire cosmos radiates out of that same reality from which it was made. God is loving everything. God is compassionate to everyone. God is forgiving every transgression. And we are made in God’s image. Which means our fundamental calling is to seek our true identity in God and then to live the way of God in this world.

And when we do – when we seek this kind of godliness – that parallel reality becomes the only reality for which we are made.

And so in days like these – when the circumstances are worsening, when politics are more frightening, when policies are more destructive, when social divisiveness is more glaring – then do we need the hope of such a God all the more. Then does the message of the church and the mission of the church become all the more urgent. For us. And for the world. Now is the time to lean into our call to bless those who curse, to offer the other cheek, to forgive, to lend freely, to be kind to the ungrateful and wicked, and to set ourselves free from a spirit – and that burden we cannot bear – of judgment and condemnation.

This is what we need, if we are to live as people of faith. This is what we need if we are to live as people. Which is to say, all of us are all craving the same thing.

And should we choose to live this way, it begins with our hearts. Ideas and doctrines and mission statements and sermons! (pointing to head) are insufficient. The way of Jesus begins with our souls. It begins in the deep interiority of who we are here (pointing to chest).

Which means, we need to develop spiritual practices that actually foster this sense of union with God through Christ and with one another.

The spiritual practice that has best fostered this in my life is Loving Kindness Meditations. These meditations (as I’ve adapted them) start with a clear sense of entering into a “room” (as it were), a room which is God. It is that place of pure and perfect safety, love, and union with God through Christ, who is our light, who is our center. And from that place of union, I pray for my own wellbeing, then move to the well-being of family and friends, then to the well-being of the church, then to strangers, then to enemies, and then to the entire created order.

It is, so far as I can describe it, a deliberate positioning of myself to be in alignment with the heart of God.

And, as universal as these prayers may be, they’re also quite specific. For each of these tiers of relationship, I imagine just one person. I don’t pray generally for all my siblings. I just pick one – one for the day – who represents them all. I hold that one in my hands (in my heart), desiring their good particularly. And likewise for my enemies. I don’t pray for “all those fools screwing everything up.” I pick just one specific person whose voice or values or actions are antithetical to my own, and then I desire their specific well-being.

But to be clear, praying for the wellbeing of a political adversary is not the same as praying for their political agenda. Rather, I’m choosing to see and value who they are as a person in their essence, made in God’s image, just like I am, whose most basic desires are just like my own: to be loved, to be safe, to be at home in this world. I don’t need to work out the details. I don’t need to advise God on how to improve them. It is sufficient for my heart simply to desire their well-being and to trust God to translate that desire into this world, however God chooses.

And in practicing this, I find it is changing me and my character. And beyond me, I do believe prayer is a real power. Something happens in the universe when the people of God align their spirits with the Spirit of God. We become part of what God is always doing. God is one. And our oneness with God matters. It is the right way of being.

So if we are going to live as the Body of Christ, in this world, we have got to do this work – this work of the spirit – of fostering our oneness with God in genuine love for this world and everyone in it. A living love, rooted in God – who is Love – will be the fuel that sustains us as we seek to live like Christ: as we seek healing, justice, forgiveness, mercy and all the virtues that are the Kingdom of God.

Clearly, we are living in unusual times. And for that reason, the vestry (that is, the leadership team at St. John’s), is at work right now developing a fresh plan for this upcoming year that will help us, as a community, to remain grounded and centered in these undergirding values of Christ. It will be a plan that is both prayerful (as I’ve just been describing) and active (some tangible manifestation of God’s kingdom – here and now – in which we can all participate.)

We should have something to share with the church very soon. But, as something of a trial or sneak preview of this prayerful side of our plan, later in the service – in lieu of the Prayers of the People that are printed in your bulletin – I’ll use that time to guide us through a form of Loving Kindness Meditation. I’ll invite you to jump right into the spirit of it all. And if you want, you’re welcome to give me feedback afterwards, to help us – as a church – live out our calling to Be Like Jesus.