3/10/63

Scripture: Luke 6: 32-38.

“I say to you that hear, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, and pray for those who abuse you.” [Luke 6: 27,28]. This is a saying of Jesus that is not easily accepted. We find no great difficulty in adopting a religion of justice. And justice is deeply ingrained in the whole Judeo-Christian heritage. Now comes a man from Galilee who talks to his hearers about something else. Ordinary fairness would say: “You have a perfect right to hate those who hate you; if someone curses you is it not fair for you to curse back? And if you are abused by someone, pray the gods to punish him?” Jesus comes into that kind of world and says something very different. In effect it is something like this: “Never mind this concern for justice to yourself. There is something that is more important. Do good to those that hate you. Love your enemies. If there are those who curse you, bless them! If you are abused, pray for those who abuse you.”

Note carefully that he does not say that you or I are to become careless or unconcerned with our own fairness toward others. His comment applies to us when we find ourselves on the receiving end of hatred, abuse or unfairness.

I suspect that you and I find it hard to accept this teaching from the Master. Most of us do not care to accept the outrages of others toward us. If we are slugged, physically or verbally, we prefer to slug back. Well, that is our nature; not his. Before we shrug off any application of his sayings to ourselves, reasoning that we just are not built that way, let us take the focus off ourselves for a time and train it upon him.

For now, think of these words not as a difficult commandment laid upon us but as a revelation of the Master’s own spirit. What a wealth of generosity we can see in him! What lavish good will! Read this account from the sixth chapter of Luke, using it as a window to look at Jesus’ own heart. And remember that he both really felt, and actually lived, what these words express. Is there any other whose magnanimous heart can compare with his?

The Master’s point of view was not readily caught by his first disciples. Peter was not satisfied with what sounded to him like general statements. He wanted to get into code, so that he could tell just how far he must go before he could turn in vengeance. So he once asked Jesus, “How often shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? As many as seven times?” And Jesus spread almost an infinity before Peter when he replied, “I do not say to you seven times, but seventy times seven.” [Matthew 18: 21-22]. Jesus seems to be saying to Peter that an unforgiving, grudge-bearing spirit is not simply a fault, but that it is unutterably mean. Meditate a little bit on the patience and forgiveness of your own parents; note how friends overlook your blunders. Maybe there is something to this magnanimity which Jesus commends.

In the prayer which our Lord gave us, he teaches his learners to say “forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.” [Luke 11: 1-4]. Have you ever tried to pray, and found that some cherished bitterness against some unfriendly person made praying almost impossible for you? I wonder what it may be like to try to pray today for someone I deeply dislike -- really pray, wishing that one the deepest good. Could you pray for such a one so sincerely, that, in all honesty, if you had a chance to help him in the next moment, you would have to do it? We can be assured that the melting of bitterness takes away the barrier between ourselves and God.

Jesus had such a disconcerting way of commenting on the commandments. There was that occasion wherein he said: “You have heard it said, -- ‘you shall not kill’ -- But I say to you that every one who is angry with his brother shall be liable to the judgment.” And he went on, as reported in the fifth chapter of Matthew, to say some very stern things on the subject. [Matthew 5: 21-26].

If our religion ever degenerates into a mere round of forms to be observed and services to be attended, then may we note what Jesus says: that true religion involves brotherliness, real, inward brotherliness. Nothing externally religious which a man can perform means very much without that. And probably brotherliness means not only a willingness to be helpful to others when we think they need help. It may also mean a willingness to endure their abuse when they have not understood us.

When we speak of unselfishness, we generally mean a spirit of service that is willing to sacrifice. But not only do we act on other people; other people act on us. If we are touchy, petulant, supersensitive, ready to have our pride hurt, to be insulted -- all these are a form of selfishness in receiving other people’s actions. Consider the real marvel of Jesus’ character in this respect. Do we find any vanity, any fear of being slighted, any desire to be noticed in him? It is a humbling experience to test our own lives by his!

While we are considering this problem, what about this facet -- the temptation to narrow our good will and brotherliness to a special clique? Is not this one of the greatest hangers in our social life? in our college life? in many other areas? We look again to Jesus for a guidepost along the way and we find him overpassing the boundaries of customary propriety. He was roundly criticized by Scribes and Pharisees for eating and drinking with publicans and sinners. It just was not done! But he did it, anyway. [Luke 15: 1-2]. For he was ready to befriend people of all sorts and conditions. Social exclusiveness seemed foreign to his nature.

The great, magnanimous character of Jesus was one of the things which impressed Paul. When Paul was writing to the Christians at Ephesus, he said, “We are members one of another ..... Let all bitterness, and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, together with all malice; and be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.” [Ephesians 4: 25-32].

The most notable characteristic of Jesus is the Master’s unfailing goodwill. And he sets his standard high enough to give all of us, his followers, plenty to strive for! The best argument for Christianity on earth, better than any philosophical argument, is the life of a Christian who is trying to achieve the standard set for him by the Master. Probably this was Daniel Webster’s meaning when he said that the strongest argument for religion that he knew was an old aunt of his who lived up in the New Hampshire hills.

Last week, we were thinking about giving and receiving joy as we examined the joy of the Master. Joy and magnanimity do not easily exist without each other. They are naturally found together. Martin Luther suggests this when he says: “My soul is too glad and too great to be at heart the enemy of any man.” He allowed no one’s hostility to spoil his persistent good will.

Jesus’ magnanimity is most impressively seen in his forgiveness of his enemies. And long before Jesus’ time there was a certain admiration of a large-hearted attitude toward unfriendly people. Among people of insight, this has always been regarded as a sign of moral greatness. In the book of Exodus we may read: “If you meet your enemy’s ox or his ass going astray, you shall surely bring it back to him.” [Exodus 23: 4]. When Paul says, in his letter to the Romans, “If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him to drink; for in so doing you shall heap coals of fire upon his head,” [Romans 12: 20] he is quoting verbatim from the book of Proverbs. [Proverbs 25: 21-22]. In connection with that particular reference, however, I doubt that Jesus would have emphasized the “coals of fire” feature. I do not think it was in his heart to try to humiliate a man by smothering him in kindness.

We see a good example of forgiveness in the story of Joseph, found in the 45th chapter of Genesis. Joseph’s ten older brothers (or half-brothers) had gotten tired of him and had sold him into slavery. They never expected to see him again! Years later, when famine came to their country, they went down to Egypt to try to buy grain. And who should the prime minister in Egypt be but Joseph! And he really forgave them in a manner to be admired of all people. [Genesis 45: 1-15].

Jesus took this superlative ideal from its customary place as an occasional virtue, and made it the common duty of every day. He considers it an obligation, since we can never forgive as much as we have been forgiven. And he made the right attitude toward hostile men not a negative refraining from vengeance but a positive Saviorhood, that prays for them, blesses them, and seeks their good.

This overflowing goodwill toward unfriendly people is one of Jesus’ unique contributions to the moral life. He was aware of this fact. He would quote the old writings: “You have heard that it was said, ‘an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth,’ and so on. You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy;’ but I say to you, Love your enemies.” [Matthew 5: 38; 43-44]. He was consciously contrasting the old saying with his new commandment.

The exhibition of magnanimity which Jesus gave in his own life is so authentic as to be accepted by us as a wonderful revelation of his spirit. You are probably well aware that there were writings other than the books finally chosen as the canon of our Bible which circulated among devout people for a long time. We call them “apocryphal” books. When the Church fathers decided which writings were to be regarded properly as holy scripture, and which were not, those were ruled out of the canon which did not seem to bear the authentic spirit of true religion.

In one of the ancient “apocryphal” stories about Jesus, we find a tale like this: “At another time, when Jesus was returning home with Joseph in the evening, He met a boy who ran up against Him with so much force that He fell. And Jesus said to him, ‘As thou hast thrown me down, so shalt thou fall and not rise again.’ And the same hour the boy fell down and expired.” Even if we did not know that this story is apocryphal, we should feel its falsity. For it belies all that we know about Jesus.

When Samaritan villagers were inhospitable in so rough a way that they angered the disciples, the disciples wanted revenge. They were all for calling down fire to burn up those Samaritans! But Jesus rebuked that spirit in his followers. [Luke 9: 52-56]. Jesus certainly knew the brutality of unfriendly people. Some had called him a liar; a servant of the devil, a man gone mad, a seeker after worldly crown --- yet for all this misjudgment and slander, Jesus taught his disciples to do what he was doing -- loving his enemies, doing good to those that hated him, blessing those that cursed him, praying for those who abused him. Even when one of his old friends betrayed him, and was about to give him a traitor’s kiss, he said, “Friend, do that for which you have come.” [Matthew 26: 50]. A little later he only fulfilled his life-long practice when, crucified on Calvary, and thinking of all the unfriendly people who had wronged him, he prayed, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” [Luke 23: 34]. He is, by all standards, the most magnanimous soul that ever lived.

This quality in the Master stands out more sharply when we remember one of the traits of human nature. That is this: when anyone holds an exalted opinion of himself and his work, he naturally resents any disregard of his rights or interference with his plans. Another religious leader (Mohammed) raged against his foes when, thinking of himself as the vice-regent of God, he found himself abused and his purposes thwarted. But not so Jesus.

How shall he act when he is despised and rejected by men, taken on one occasion to the edge of a cliff to be killed by his old playmates in Nazareth; [Luke 4: 16-30]; is called crazy, deceitful, devilish; is betrayed, beaten, crowned with thorns, spit upon, and crucified, while Barabbas, a known robber, is released? [Matthew 27: 11-44]. That he should pray for his enemies as he died in tortured agony, is an unparalleled achievement in magnanimity. It does not come within the range of what we ordinarily mean by human nature.

Here is an aspect of the Master’s attitude toward unfriendly people: whenever a man did him a wrong, he looked upon the wrong as a sure sign of a deep need in that man’s life. An insult, or a blow, seemed to him a signal of moral need flung out from his enemy’s heart. Jesus thought first, not of the wrong done to him, but of the pitiable need of the man who was so ignorant and perverted as to do it.

When the Samaritan village people used him despitefully, he was sorry for the villagers rather than resentful for himself. When Judas betrayed him, he was concerned with Judas’ pitiable failure rather than with the bitter wrong done to himself.

It was once said of Henry Ward Beecher that no one ever felt the full force of his kindness until he did Beecher an injury. Perhaps this is what Paul means when he says, “Love taketh not account of evil;” [I Corinthians 13: 5], that is, keeps no memorandum of injuries received, but forgets, forgives, and tries to help.

I have just read in the latest issue of the Reader’s Digest magazine, the moving story of a fellow who wouldn’t quit. Perhaps you have seen it; if not it is worth your while to look up the story of this fellow. He is a Negro, a black veteran of the US Air Force, who consented, on the suggestion of his father, to enter the University of Arkansas Law School in 1949. Frankly it was a test case. He was the first Negro ever to enroll in that school. Most of the faculty and trustees approved his admission. But they knew the school might be in for a stormy time of it. And so it proved to be.

George Haley was a top notch student, son of a very able college professor who pioneered in Negro education. George could have gone to Harvard Law School where he would not have had to live the life of an outcast. But here he was at the University of Arkansas. His room was in the basement. He was to enter and exit only by a back way. He was to bring sandwiches and eat in his room, because other students wouldn’t let him eat in the dining room. He found himself immediately the target of white shock, disbelief, and rage that a “nigger” should be enrolled in that school! He was taunted and threatened in the halls. Obscene and threatening notes were shoved under his door. People shunned him on the street and surrounded him with hate in the classroom. He began to feel degraded by his passive acceptance of this treatment as though something of his manhood were being destroyed when he did not strike back. He wrote long, agonizing letters to his father and brother.

It was his father who answered, “Always remember that they act the way they do out of fear. They are afraid that your presence at the University will somehow hurt it, and thus hurt their own education and chance in life. Be patient with them. Give them a chance to know you and to understand that you are no threat.”

The day after this letter arrived, he found a rope noose hanging from the ceiling of his room. He barely passed his first semester exams. By the end of the first year he had lost 30 pounds and went into the final exams exhausted. He believed he had failed them until a committee of 4 classmates knocked on his door. When he said, “come in,” they looked in long enough to say, “The grades were just posted, and we thought you’d like to know you have the highest A in the class.” Then they beat a hasty, embarrassed retreat. The second year was a little better. He did not even try to eat in the cafeteria until the third year and then he had trouble. But his classmates began taking him for his full worth as a student and then began sizing him up as a man. When they got to the place when they would talk to him in a bull session with no questions barred he found out what some of the prejudicial barriers were.

“Don’t all you niggers carry knives?” they asked. George emptied his pockets -- no knife. “How often do you bathe?” “Every day,” George told them. “Don’t most of you lust after white girls?” George showed them snapshots of a pretty Negro girl he was dating back in his home town. Following this session he wrote to his brother: “Improving race relations is at least 50% a matter of simple communication. Now that I’m able to talk to a few whites I realize what terrible beliefs cause their prejudice. I can see the emotional struggle they are going through just to see me as an equal human being.”

Not many law degrees are earned at so stiff a price as George Haley paid for his. But his agony was a major contribution to race understanding in a critical spot. And because he did not quit, he furnished valuable evidence that the Master’s magnanimity toward unfriendly people pays some handsome dividends in the world, that only God can fully understand.

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Delivered in Wisconsin Rapids, March 10, 1963.

Also at Waioli Hui’ia Church, March 11, 1973.