Reading I:   1 Samuel 26:2, 7-9, 12-13, 22-23

In those days, Saul went down to the desert of Ziph

with three thousand picked men of Israel,

to search for David in the desert of Ziph.

So David and Abishai went among Saul’s soldiers by night

and found Saul lying asleep within the barricade,

with his spear thrust into the ground at his head

and Abner and his men sleeping around him.

 

Abishai whispered to David:

“God has delivered your enemy into your grasp this day.

Let me nail him to the ground with one thrust of the spear;

I will not need a second thrust!”

But David said to Abishai, “Do not harm him,

for who can lay hands on the LORD’s anointed and remain unpunished?”

So David took the spear and the water jug from their place at Saul’s head,

and they got away without anyone’s seeing or knowing or awakening.

All remained asleep,

because the LORD had put them into a deep slumber.

 

Going across to an opposite slope,

David stood on a remote hilltop

at a great distance from Abner, son of Ner, and the troops.

He said: “Here is the king’s spear.

Let an attendant come over to get it.

The LORD will reward each man for his justice and faithfulness.

Today, though the LORD delivered you into my grasp,

I would not harm the LORD’s anointed.”

 

The Gospel:  Luke 6:27-38

Jesus said to his disciples:

“To you who hear I say,

love your enemies, do good to those who hate you,

bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.

To the person who strikes you on one cheek,

offer the other one as well,

and from the person who takes your cloak,

do not withhold even your tunic.

Give to everyone who asks of you,

and from the one who takes what is yours do not demand it back.

Do to others as you would have them do to you.

For if you love those who love you,

what credit is that to you?

Even sinners love those who love them.

And if you do good to those who do good to you,

what credit is that to you?

Even sinners do the same.

If you lend money to those from whom you expect repayment,

what credit is that to you?

Even sinners lend to sinners,

and get back the same amount.

But rather, love your enemies and do good to them,

and lend expecting nothing back;

then your reward will be great

and you will be children of the Most High,

for he himself is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked.

Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.

 

“Stop judging and you will not be judged.

Stop condemning and you will not be condemned.

Forgive and you will be forgiven.

Give, and gifts will be given to you;

a good measure, packed together, shaken down, and overflowing,

will be poured into your lap.

For the measure with which you measure

will in return be measured out to you.”

 

After the Gospel:

 

One morning, two monks were at the coffee machine, their conversation getting hotter than the coffee. 

Fr. Matthew happened to mosey in, kind of wedged himself right between them, and said, as only Fr. Matthew could: “It’s OK, kiddies.  Play nice in the sandbox. There’s room enough for both of you!”   

 

In his own inimitable way, Fr. Matthew defused the situation,

not by siding with one monk or the other,

not by scolding them or shouting them down or sending them off to their cells,

he simply helped them to see that they could  act in a better way. 

 

Maybe that’s the lens we need  to understand today’s gospel, before we shrug it off, as a difficult one, idealistic,  unrealistic, unattainable.

 

Our first reading runs contrary to what we might have expected, because, in the Old Testament, to hate your enemy was presumed to be the right attitude.

We’re told about King Saul, who appointed young David to lead his armies, then became angry and jealous of David’s success. 

Insanely angry.  He’s drawn all kinds of completely irrational conclusions about David, and now he’s out to murder him.  He’s called out his entire army just to find this one runaway relative and kill him.  The world’s solution for David would be the same as Abishai’s solution: Nail your enemy to the ground while you have a chance, kill him, end the problem once and for all! But David  has a better way. He doesn’t exploit his strength to kill his enemy, neither does he simply slink away meekly and allow Saul to go unchallenged. Instead, David has a better idea: he  confronts  strength with mercy, hatred with forgiveness.

Holding up his proof –  the spear and water jug – he thundered across the hill: “Though the Lord delivered you into my grasp, I would not harm you.”   

Centuries ahead of Jesus, David was practicing:

“Do to others as you would have  them  do to you.”

“Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you.”

 

Brothers and sisters, this gospel is not unattainable, it’s not something totally beyond our capacity.

Especially in our mess of a world, where revenge and fighting are the typical answers, we need a better way.

 

Admittedly, Jesus’ words can be hard to swallow considering the hurts that lie hidden in  each of us.

Who among us has not been taken advantage of, cheated, stolen from, lied to, slandered,  betrayed?

Enough to make us ask: Are these things not to be avenged?

Doesn’t turning your cheek only encourage even worse behavior?

And there’s the world – always  yelling for  us to meet strength with strength, to fight fire with fire, to take an eye for an eye.   You can sing “Peace on Earth” all day long, but it’s gonna be a hard sell.

 

And are we ourselves blameless in adding to the problem?   Who among us has never  cut someone off,  ended a relationship, refused to see or speak with someone, because they betrayed our confidence, or spoke too critically of us, or didn’t do what we thought should be done?

When’s the last time we condemned or made a judgment about someone else’s life and then enjoyed sharing the dirt?

In how many ways have we hit back with thoughts, words, maybe fists?

How many times have we just wanted to get even and hurt someone because they hurt us – even if that person is someone we love?

 

Which is why Jesus’ words haunt us as they do. We would like things to change,

we’d like ourselves to change, we wish everyone could change, see things Jesus’ way,  do everything he says.

He’s really not asking us to do something ‘unnatural’.

None of us naturally wants to hate or be hated.  We want to love and to be loved.

Anywhere – across the world or in our hearts – wherever  thoughts of attack and vengeance are  taking place,  there’s been a long process of hatred and retaliation.

Jesus tells us how to break the cycle, it’s the opposite of living by the “eye for an eye” rule, which leaves the whole world blind, as Gandhi says.

 

Jesus doesn’t intend his words to be a “how  to” lesson,  how to love, reconcile, forgive, be merciful, or offer generosity. That’s ours to figure out.

His words are intended to stir our thought, perhaps  trouble our sleep, get us to think of a better way.

He’s not telling us what to see, he’s teaching us how to see.

He’s not giving us the answers, he’s inviting us to ask better questions.

 

Well, they finally finished the race, Fr Matthew and the two monks, they’re all together again now.

For years they prayed together in this same church,

shared meals together,

received Communion together,

now they’re at peace, so close you can stand at one grave and look over at the other two.

And we trust they’re in the same heaven together, Fr. Matthew, with that famous gleam in his eye and drawl in his voice, saying: “Hey, over here, come and share my hymn book with me.  There’s room enough for all of us to sing together.”

 

May that’s what happens when you buy into Jesus’ impossible, unreasonable, idealistic “better way.”