“The Most High… is kind to the ungrateful and wicked. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.”
A woman from another church called me once to complain about her pastor. Normally I would not give much attention to what seemed like idle complaining and criticism. But in this case, the woman was not asking me to intervene on her behalf. She had already resolved the situation herself with some outside help. She was simply telling me a story about her past, probably hoping I would learn something.
What caught my attention was that this woman apparently had found her church not only incapable of dealing with domestic abuse but likely to make it worse. To be fair, pastors, somewhat like policemen, always have a hard time dealing with domestic calls. Especially if conflict has escalated to the point of physical and psychological battering, the situation often becomes dangerous to anyone trying to intervene. And the worst part is, it’s often hard to be objective. Domestic abuse is by definition, not public. And both victims and abusers will often minimize things and keep the worst of it a secret, even from those trying to help. Furthermore, victims usually feel a great deal of shame and vulnerability to “moral” judgments by outsiders. They are often afraid of reporting out of fear of judgment and retaliation.
So, the worst part of this case was not that the pastor refused to intervene. That would have been understandable. And 20 years ago, when this happened, church practices regarding marriage and divorce were often more legalistic and less compassionate than they are now, at least in some parts of the country. The worst part is that the pastor added to the abuse by telling the woman it was her Christian duty to go back to her abusive husband.
This was abuse piled onto abuse. It was spiritual abuse. It was a blatant example of making doctrine and a literal reading of church policy more important than human need and suffering. It was an example of what I would call “unhealthy religion.” It’s the kind of religion that advocates legal perfection while ignoring the greater virtues of love, compassion, and at least doing no harm.
But there has to be a limit on compassion, some might object. Isn’t there an objective and clear line that we can draw between the moral and the immoral? To such questions, I would point out that the supposed line between the moral and the immoral is an abstract and theoretical line, which has to be applied compassionately when dealing with real people. People are not theological constructs. Consider, for example, Jesus’ attitude toward adultery, which seemed to change when he was dealing with Pharisees on the one hand, and with the woman they caught in adultery on the other. And although God may hate divorce. He does not hate divorced people. And yes, I have a personal interest in that issue.
Perhaps we should ask Jesus if there is ever a limit on compassion. The sermon on the mount includes some of Jesus’ most classic statements on compassion. Luke’s version of the beatitudes includes: Blessed are the poor, those who hunger, those who weep, and those who are hated. In other words, Jesus says, blessed are the losers. Blessed are those who are abused by life, by other people, and even by their religion.
Just the expression “blessed” is an interesting puzzle. Some people try to make it more understandable by translating it as “happy.” Happy are the poor, the hungry, the weeping and the hated. But does this make any more sense than blessed? It sounds rather contradictory to me to say, happy are those who are unhappy and downtrodden!
I suggest that we borrow an expression used in current discussions on human relationships. That expression “worthy of love,” expresses an innate understanding or assumption that one is a valuable and lovable person and deserves to be treated as such. Brene’ Brown, a social researcher for example, says that people who live whole-heartedly know that they are worthy of love. Their life circumstances may not be perfect. They may even be unlucky in love. But they know they are worthy of love. I think that exactly defines what Jesus meant by “blessed.” Worthy of love, says Jesus, are those who people hate, who are poor, hungry, and full of sorrow. These people may look to the world like losers. But in God’s eyes they are worthy of love.
So, Jesus says blessed are the losers. They are worthy of love. That’s no surprise, right? Jesus was always turning the kingdom upside down. The last will be first and the first will be last. But what about people who fight against us, who don’t believe like we do, don’t act like we do, and who think we are the ones in the wrong? In other words, does Jesus extend compassion even to our enemies, to our abusers?
To answer this question, Luke includes more material on loving, forgiving, and not judging our enemies than anyone else. The passage starts in Luke 6:27 with a basic statement of the principle:
“But to you who are listening I say: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you.” That is it, the entire passage summed up in one simple teaching. But lest we try to find a loophole, a mitigating circumstance perhaps, that gives us an out to loving our enemies, Jesus goes on for 12 verses closing every loophole and possible exception. Here are the highlights:
Bless the abusive, those who curse and mistreat you (vs 28).
Turn the other cheek and give more than is taken (vs 29-30).
Do to others what you want done to you (vs 31).
Love and do good to those who hate you and mistreat you (vs 32-35).
God is kind to those who are unkind and who are ungrateful (vs 35).
“Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful” (vs 36).
If you give compassion, you will naturally receive compassion. If you give judgment, you will naturally receive judgment (vs 37-38).
What are we to make of all this? Why does Jesus in Luke literally go on and on about loving your enemies? There’s more here than we can grasp in just one reading. But here are three observations:
- Letting a person or a church abuse you is not love or compassion. There is a time for self sacrifice. But even Jesus did not allow people to walk all over him during his ministry. If you are the victim, the most compassionate thing you can do might be to get a restraining order or separate completely. And that goes for cases of spiritual abuse as well as domestic abuse. But in all this, use fairness, not revenge; compassion not shame.
- If you’re going to be Jesus’ enemy, be prepared to lose your enemy status fast. Before you know it, you’ll be one of those people he’s calling blessed, worthy of love. It’s frustrating to fight against someone who won’t fight back, who will sacrifice himself rather than use hate in any form against you. Nevertheless, if you insist on destroying yourself, you probably will. You still have a choice.
- The difference between healthy and unhealthy religion has to do with compassion versus shame. Healthy religion always chooses compassion. Unhealthy religion uses shame, abuse, condemnation and hate. And unhealthy religion creates an endless number of enemies and conspiracy theories to make itself look legitimate.
Having a healthy religion is not about changing the church. It’s about being willing to change our relationship to the church. Instead of defending policy, for example, we could advocate for the victims, and defend the losers that Jesus loves. Of course, if we all put compassion and love above law and policy, we will suddenly find ourselves living the very definition of healthy religion, and thereby fulfill the mission of the church.
Jesus said it best: “[God] the Most High… is kind to the ungrateful and wicked. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful” (Lk. 6:36).
