Love your enemies. That’s what Jesus calls us to do. Not just love those who love us, or our family. There is no one beyond God’s love, and that’s our model. Love everyone. There is, or should be, no one beyond our love.
This is tricky stuff, loving our enemy. There are some people that are hard to love, even though we know they have been created to be who they are. I liken this to dogs that are bred to be mean, or are taught to fight. Pit bulls, Dobermans. These are not bad dogs. But they sure can be bred to be mean, unlovable fighting machines. Humans can be the same way. Addicts, who are fighting an incredibly powerful opioid. Homeless, who panhandle for whatever they can get. Empathetic people can find love for these children of God, because we see how they are maligned for things sometimes beyond their control. Or they’re blamed for being the cause societal ills, when they are more likely the result of societal ills.
There are others who are harder to love. The abuser, the racist, the murderer. Just yesterday, I saw that there is a group rallying behind the two white men who killed Ahmaud Arbery, the black man guilty of being black and in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or what about those who are having corona parties, where they intentionally infect themselves and others, to get it over with? Or the politicians who seem hell-bent on putting money before humans?
I would argue that yes, Jesus calls us to love them. Maybe not like them, but love them. Loving someone doesn’t mean you have to love what they do, or what they believe, but that you care enough to find out their story. You empathize, or work to empathize, putting yourself in their shoes, trying to understand them.
Most abusers have been abused. Most racists were raised that way. I am certainly not suggesting their absolved of their current bad behavior. But I do think I’m called to understand their story, and love them as fellow children of God, even if I don’t like them or what they do. If I do any less, isn’t that just what Jesus is talking about? If I only love the people that are easy to love, or are a little stretch for me to love, how am I different from the racists? They love who they love, or who’s easy to love, and their love does not extend to Arbery. My love needs to extend to them, however unpalatable.
Yesterday, I posted a video interview of my loved one and me talking about their significant persistent mental illness. The response has been wonderful. And to be clear, this was an extremely rare moment of mutual insight, and is not indicative of permanent forward progress. This illness is incredibly persistent, and while there have been spectacular advances in our home world, we will return to harder times.
Loving the person beneath the illness is always possible, although not always easy. Sometimes the illness creates delusions that have landed us in hot water with adult protective services. Other times, it’s resulted in screaming tirades, or calls from the police. Last week, she told me I was her worst enemy. When she’s symptomatic, that’s when I’m most needed and called to love. I am not suggesting that she is ever my enemy, but sometimes the illness makes love nearly elusive. But I know she’s a beautiful, loved child of God, deep down.
This morning, I’m thinking about how even our mortal enemies are beloved children of God, despite whatever demons or behaviors or attitudes make them unlovable. We are called to see past the bravado, or behavior, or bias, to love the people inside. To do any less makes us just like them.
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