My friend, who is the Pastor at another church, this week preached a sermon I needed to hear. It was based on one of Jesus’ stories, recorded in Luke 18:9-14:
Then Jesus told this story to some who had great confidence in their own righteousness and scorned everyone else: “Two men went to the Temple to pray. One was a Pharisee, and the other was a despised tax collector. The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed this prayer: ‘I thank you, God, that I am not like other people—cheaters, sinners, adulterers. I’m certainly not like that tax collector! I fast twice a week, and I give you a tenth of my income.’
“But the tax collector stood at a distance and dared not even lift his eyes to heaven as he prayed. Instead, he beat his chest in sorrow, saying, ‘O God, be merciful to me, for I am a sinner.’ I tell you, this sinner, not the Pharisee, returned home justified before God. For those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”
I think that, no matter who hears that story, they end up thinking, "Yeah, Jesus! You tell 'em! I'm sure glad I'm not like those people who are glad they're not like... somebody else!"
Including me. I'm so glad I'm not like those people who are glad they're not like me.
I get exasperated with certain folks in town who go out of their way to make life more difficult for those who are unsheltered, mentally ill, addicted. Who take uninformed, cheap shots at volunteers and staffers working to help "those people." I'm sure glad I'm not like them.
I mean, like "them," not like... them.
Although I am also glad I'm not unsheltered, mentally ill, addicted.
Recently, while I was visiting the downtown drop-in of a local streetcare agency, one of the other regulars (a Pastor from the town down the road) came in the door carrying a plastic bag, tightly tied up. He carried it to the trash and explained: he'd been standing outside with a coffee when one of the neighbours across the street called him to come over. They'd found some tin-foil pieces outside their door and wanted someone from the drop-in to deal with it.
Context: tin-foil is often used by people addicted to certain drugs. Some of our local 'journalists’ and 'anti-lawlessness' vigilante groups have 'educated' people about the 'dangers' of contact with tin-foil and, potentially, second-hand exposure to certain substances. In case you're wondering, it is wise to use care when clearing up such debris. Wear gloves, don't touch your eyes, nose, or mouth until you've washed your hands. Don't inhale anything you didn't put there yourself. But in these situations, the actual danger is extremely small.
Continuing: there was some frustration among the regulars at the drop-in that "they" would assume that "we" were responsible for the stuff, and that "we" should have to clean it up.
And I get that. The majority of people who access the drop-in are not responsible for abandoned drug gear. The assumption that "homeless" = "addicted" = "negligent" is a false one.
But...
Many of our housed neighbours are being fed a regular diet of half-truths and mis-information. (A newcomer to the community said recently, "I can't get over how everybody in this town gets their news from Facebook!") The situation around homelessness has become (as in many communities) deeply political. This afternoon, the powers-that-be in our county are making a decision about whether (that's not ‘when’ or ‘how’ but WHETHER) to even have a warming space this winter. One 'leader' has actually said that it's "50/50." Which, I have to say, paints our system of government with a humanitarian bankruptcy that I'm glad I'm not... um. (Edit: the warming space was approved by Council for which I say Thank you! and well done! Many are sighing with relief right now. We were really worried.) Back to my story.
I listened to some of the (understandable and shared by me) irritation being expressed. Then I said something like, "But if we give them the benefit of the doubt..."
- Maybe they've been reading and hearing the coverage of the situation, and maybe they're actually afraid that if they touch this tinfoil, somebody will be dialing 911.
- Maybe they figured that folks in the drop-in would have more experience with this kind of thing (which we probably do) and it makes sense to get help from someone who gets it.
- Maybe they had the choice of calling the cops, but they decided instead to call on a trustworthy neighbour.
- Maybe this was an opportunity for us to build a bridge. And I hope we did.
I have to keep reminding myself that, in this bizarrely polarised small town, empathy works both ways. And that while I have a responsibility to act and speak on behalf of the most vulnerable, I cannot claim to be more righteous than those who think I'm wrong to do so. Not because they don't piss me off. But because I'm prone to the same kind of judgementalism.
Back to my friend's sermon...
Jesus doesn't let any of us off the hook. He doesn't tolerate self-righteousness of any stripe, demanding that we love our neighbour whether they love us or not. It is Christ's Spirit who inspired the Bible writer Paul to write:
If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. (Romans 12:18)
Everyone. People who bad-mouth us on social media. People who don't care to live at peace with us. People who we assume are making assumptions.
Jesus also doesn't tolerate abandoning vulnerable people. He makes clear his expectation that we will feed the hungry, and hold our leaders accountable for the decisions they make while sitting in places of warmth and comfort, talking about people who have neither.
But according to my Faith tradition, it is my heart that God looks into. I can make as much noise as I like, score all the points, say all the right things, get re-elected, but:
If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing. (1 Corinthians 13:3)
Which means that I (me, writing this) am accountable to Christ for how I respond to... everyone. It doesn't just mean having love for "the poor." For me, that's a lot easier.
It also means going the extra mile for the arrogant and callous. It means loving my enemy. It means doing good to those who persecute me. These are all Jesus things. Just like standing with those who stand alone. Just like feeding and clothing and housing and hugging people who are hanging on by their fingertips.
I will not be stopped from doing the latter things. I will definitely continue to struggle with the former.
I will continue to have confidence that I'm doing the right thing. I will probably (being really honest) continue struggling to not "scorn everyone else."
So call me names. Whatever. You can't call me anything I haven't called myself. I survived the bullies in high school and honey, you got nuthin' on them, and I'm all grown up now.
But please... look across the street. Whichever direction you're facing.
And see a neighbour. I promise to try to do the same.
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