You have heard that it was said, "You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy." But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you
Enemies are not something that I struggle with. In the big theoretical way, it’s actually tough for me to name my enemy. I can genuinely say that I harbor ill will for no one. Those with political differences? Bring it. Criminals? Abusers? They all have stories. Even my mentally ill stalker who’s now in jail? I don’t consider her an enemy. All of these people are fellow children of God, who deserve my love and attention.
Many people who could be my enemy have stories or circumstances that result in very different perspectives and values. But they have a good heart; they want good for their family and community. We just disagree on how to best go about that good. If my political outlook, faith tradition, or social agenda was empirically right, wouldn’t everyone jumped on that wagon? If it was flat-out right, there’d be no need for debate or social workers. If it was True, wouldn’t everyone flock to that truth? I guess I’m willing to believe that while it’s my truth, it may not be the TRUTH. There’s room for other opinions and paths and other truths.
And some people who could be my enemy are broken. They’ve had stories or circumstances that have broken their spirit, their connection with community, God, themselves. They are sick. If these children of God are broken by mental health, circumstances, or drugs, I cannot blame the person any more.
I was working in a women’s homeless shelter about 10 years ago, and the manager was explaining that people often look at the chronically homeless – those who’ve been homeless for years – and wonder why don’t they just make better choices? Choose to get a job or stop the drugs. Her response was a loving one that I still remember. She said that yes, at one point in their past, many of these women had made a bad choice or series of bad choices. And yes, if we could go back to that moment in history, we could criticize the choice they made. But there comes a point in a person’s life, particularly the homeless, where the choices made are so self-limiting, that eventually there are few choices left. A woman on the street with no money and no resources, often has no choice but to prostitute herself to the nicest fellow homeless man she can, in return for protection, or to feed a long-standing drug habit. Without a treatment bed, or family networks, or . . . she may legitimately not have other choices. So while you can blame someone for the choice they made 10 years ago, there that’s not fair. They don’t have the choices we presume they have. If this is the case, how can that woman be an enemy? Or that addict? Or that person with untreated mental illness?
In a big theoretical way, enemies are distant to me.
In a personal, intimate way, I falter. I have a friend who asks herself who would she not want to invite to her table. This becomes more challenging, because at this level, there are definitely people I wouldn’t want at my table. The clergy friend who argues that he’s absolutely right, has a dogged political perspective, and if you’re not with him, you’re against him and against humanity. The former police coworker who was adamant that nearly all homeless are criminals. The people who somehow make me feel small and insignificant. Mostly, I struggle with the overly-zealous, judgmental types, or those who push my buttons.
Today, I’ll pray for my big theoretical enemies. And continue to ponder who I wouldn’t want at my dinner table, and pray for them too.
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