Are You Listening?

7 Epiphany C:

February 23, 2025

Are you listening?

A few weeks ago, I found myself in a conversation with fellow clergy. One of them asked if we could tell whether our congregants were paying attention to our sermons. One, an African-American, laughed that she could tell, because in that tradition, it’s common for members to respond verbally to the preacher. Others of us, from white traditions were less confident. Sometimes, it’s easy to tell. Everyone is focused on the preacher; there’s very little fidgeting. But other times, well, you know. I know; that often I will find myself letting my gaze wander off; I may still be paying attention but I’m looking elsewhere; other times, I look, trying to divert my attention from the preacher, because well, let’s admit, sermons can be boring. It’s not just preachers. I know from personal experience that teachers and professors can see attentions wandering. 

In my sermon last week, I pointed out that Luke described three concentric circles of people to whom Jesus was preaching this sermon on a level place. There were the apostles, the twelve, then the “great crowd of his disciples” and third, a “great multitude of people who had come to hear him and be healed. But now, Jesus makes a further distinction: “I say to you that listen…”

It’s a telling shift in tone or presumed audience. Elsewhere in the synoptic gospels, Jesus will say something like: “Whoever has ears to hear, listen.” Often in such instances, it seems to be that Jesus is signaling that his words have a deeper meaning—with parables, for example. Here, though, I think there’s something else that might be going on. For most of us who are regular public speakers, to say something like: “I say to you that listen” or just “Listen …” may be an attempt to recapture the attention of an audience that is drifting away, because of boredom? Or maybe because what he is about to say isn’t going to go over well, that what he has to say is difficult to hear. Difficult for his first-century audience, and difficult for us.

Last week, as we listened to the beatitudes; Jesus’ blessings on the poor, the hungry, and his condemnations of the wealthy and the satisfied, we were on solid ground. We knew where we stood. Perhaps we’re poor, well, ours is the kingdom of God; if we’re wealthy or comfortable, well, he’s not talking about us because we have nothing like the wealth of Jeff Bezos or Elon Musk, and woe to them!

Now Jesus shifts gears, and the ground under our feet shifts as well. For instead of allowing us to position ourselves comfortably, Jesus’ words strike home uncomfortably, challenging the distinctions we make, upending our assumptions, our attitudes, breaking down the lines we draw between “us” and “them” between those who belong to our group, deserve our love and compassion, and those on the other side of the border, our enemies, outsiders.

Whether or not we find Jesus’ words believable, or relevant, or possible, the challenge to love our enemies, turn the cheek, to give one’s shirt as well as one’s coat, to lend expecting nothing in return confronts us with questions of personal worth and value, the relative importance of self and other, and yes, sheer survival.

But these words challenge us in other ways. For those of us with privilege and status, they pierce the armor of our wealth, gender, color. For those of us without, they work very differently. It’s important for us to be conscious of how they have been used and interpreted over the centuries and even today—how they have been used to oppress and to maintain structures of injustice. Even today, how many pastors counsel victims of domestic violence to turn the other cheek and passively accept the blows of their husbands or fathers or partners?

What if, instead of commands, these words are meant to unsettle and de-center us, to move us away from the certainty of our existence and the world we know into a journey toward a new world, where God reign’s and where God’s love is the model for all of our relationships and for all of human community? Jesus came down from the mountain to a level place where he taught a vision of a new world order, coming into existence in the community of his followers. It is a vision of a community with no barriers or boundaries, no distinction between rich and poor, friend and enemy.

To love one’s enemy is not easy. In our cultural and political context where the lines are sharply drawn between opponents, and the rhetoric demonizes those with whom I disagree, even to attempt to love one’s enemy may seem like a betrayal of our deepest values. How can one love someone who thinks I am beyond contempt, un-American, perhaps even not fully human? 

As hard as it is for us to imagine, or even to articulate, there is yet one more step to take. When we view these words as commands, we place our behavior on a continuum of obedience: Should I turn the other cheek? Did I turn the other cheek? And if in a particular instant we choose not to, because of fear or threat to life and limb, or simply because our anger overwhelms us, we may judge ourselves and feel shame and guilt for falling short.

Luke, in his compassion and concern for his readers, offers hope and consolation even on such occasions. In Matthew’s version of these sayings, Jesus concludes with the admonition: “Be perfect, as your Father in heaven is perfect.” Luke’s version is quite different, “Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.”

Using this as a lens by which to read Jesus’ statements offers us a new way of seeing, a new world of possibilities, the reign and realm of God—where the neat calculus of debt and repayment, crime and punishment, eye for an eye no longer is operative. And that’s true not only for the specifics that Jesus talks about but also for us. We need not use this calculus on our own lives and actions. God is merciful and invites us to receive God’s mercy and in turn to offer it to others and to the world.

The instructions which Jesus gives his listeners on the level place are instructions that address our actions towards those who act violently or unjustly against us (love your enemy, turn the other cheek) and address our actions towards those with whom we are already in relationship (if you love those who love you). But the heart of the matter seems to be that whether friend or foe, our actions should not be guided by how others treat us but rather by how God treats us: Be merciful as your Father is merciful.

It may be that we often interpret God’s disposition toward us in terms similar to how we act towards others, loving friends, hating enemies experiencing guilt, expecting punishment when we sin. But God is merciful and forgiving. Receiving God’s mercy and grace gives us the power to share that mercy and grace with others.

It may also be that among the most important things to consider is that in these tumultuous times; remembering that God is merciful is not only helpful in thinking about and responding to others; it may be that we need to extend that mercy to ourselves. When we hear Jesus’ words here, or when we think about how we should respond to the needs of the world, we may think that we need to do more; that taking a stand, fighting the good fight is not only important but necessary. Maybe, just maybe, we need to be merciful to ourselves, to accept our limitations, our fears, our sheer exhaustion. Maybe we need as much mercy as everyone else.