Dear friends:
In an article on hate crimes in “The New York Times Magazine,” Andrew Sullivan argued that nothing is more normal, or genuine, for human beings than hatred. He writes:
At some point in our evolution, being able to know beforehand who was friend or foe was not merely a convenience, but a matter of survival. And even today it seems impossible to feel a loyalty without also feeling a disloyalty, a sense of belonging without an equal sense of unbelonging. We’re social beings. We associate. Therefore we disassociate. And although it would be comforting to think that one could happen without the other, we know in reality that it doesn’t.
Which is precisely the Apostle Paul’s point in this week’s scripture reading. We don’t have to hate. We can choose to love because God’s grace can and does transform human nature, and – at least every now and again -- by God’s grace, we can choose to love.
Will Campbell is a Southern Baptist preacher, author, and satirist, whose mission in life is to deflate the pompous and hypocritical and celebrate the true and authentic and point to the breaking in of God’s kingdom of love and hope. In a wonderful book of anecdotes from his own life and ministry, he describes ways God’s love shows up in unlikely places. One brief essay is about love transcending difficult boundaries:
Two years ago, our nearest neighbors, a couple from what is called the blue-collar class, experienced a grim tragedy. Their teenage grandson was murdered by his mother, who also killed herself. This past Christmas Eve, when the grandmother entered the cemetery for her weekly pilgrimage, she saw a young black male standing near the grandson’s tomb. She did not recognize him. His dress and bearing would have frightened some, suggesting to them felonious intent. He held something in his hand and moved toward the woman as she approached. What he held was not an Uzi, not a Saturday night special, not a knife. It was a long-stemmed rose, shimmering in the winter’s chilly mist. With a smiling greeting, he offered her the rose, and together they leaned down and placed it on the grave.
“I come here often,” he said. “Matt was my best friend at school.”
An elderly white woman of the yeomanry and a young black man of the urban poor, in solemn accord in a country graveyard. Mourning, loving, remembering. Together. Perplexed but not despairing.
We shall overcome? Only in ways like that. (Will D. Campbell, Among Lions: Musings of a Bootleg Preacher)
We’ll consult our friend Ted Lasso again this weekend as we explore how to live the Christian life and, in particular, how to meet hatred with love. Come, and bring a friend.
Warmly,
