Readings: Psalm 139:19–24, 1 Peter 3:8–18.
Maya Angelou said, “Hate, it has caused a lot of problems in the world, but has not solved one yet.”
In our first scripture, David cries out to the Lord, “If only you would slay the wicked”—a cry from the heart to be rid of the bloodthirsty, those who seek to take life rather than pursue a mutual flourishing.
Let us be honest: in a world riven by global conflicts, acute suffering has come to many from a logic of war—seeking territory or gold, coveting our neighbour’s property, or stealing from the many to reward a few, taking for themselves what also belongs to the poor. This is nothing more than greed in the struggle for power, a corruption of mankind’s natural end: that is community in right relationship.
Right relationship may seem a distant goal. David continues, “Do I not hate those who hate you, Lord?” It appears in society today that there is too much hate. Do we hate others because of an idea or belief in our minds that we impose upon them and the world? Or what for what they have done?
Do we wish for things to be harmonious, or do we want things to be the same—for these are not equivalent? In a pluralistic society where many different people share the same space, do we harmonise with the same mindset set on peace, justice, truth, or wisdom? Our minds desiring the same virtues that lead to the flourishing of humanity—a flourishing that brings stability and order, not by appearances, but by actions, by our human spirit at work, shaping and moving within the community.
Humans will always be the same kind of different: we shall always have different goals, ideas, pastimes; yet we are equal in our dignity and in our needs for water, food, shelter, love, and belonging. We are given the gift of life—a most precious gift—born into this world a new creation, yet free to fulfil that gift in whatever way our circumstances, will, and motivation challenge us.
Equal in need, but not all agreed on the means to fulfil that need, nor shall we have the same priorities. Unless we have planned ahead, we are unlikely to be hungry at the same time or to share the same preferences as to how that need is fulfilled.
So much difference, and yet so much in common. If we abandon our preferences all the time, we abandon what is unique about our being-in-the-world. Yet sometimes, in relation to the common good, it might be appropriate to be less specific, to try something new, or even to give up a preference for the sake of another.
But what David addresses goes beyond the trifles of life; he is concerned about evildoers. Yet we know Jesus tells us to love our enemies—so is there a conflict? I say not. St Peter says, “Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult.” In other words, do not mirror the evil you see, hear, or have had done to you. For we know that what we say matters; our words matter; what we do has lasting repercussions. Everything we carry within our heart is known; all that we do is seen; there is no place we can flee from God. Whatever we do echoes on into eternity, like ripples in a pond; what we do imprints upon us a mark of righteousness or sin, because what we do to others we do to ourselves.
Yet there is hope, because though we are not fully perfect, Christ is perfect, and in Him we have hope. In Him our sins will be removed from us, and we are forgiven. We are forgiven.
St Augustine famously wrote, “Love the sinner, hate the sin.” Therefore we hate sin so as to detach ourselves from evil thoughts, words, and deeds. This is what the Psalm of David is getting at: by hating evil we are kept from it, repelled from it. This in itself belongs to love—for it is not an emotion we speak of but a separation that brings us closer to Him.
Love’s expression runs through all things by design: the structure of matter, what reacts and what does not, works together to create the stability we have in the material nature of our universe. We live in a Goldilocks zone of “just right”—a happy circumstance, perhaps—yet the shape of things in the beginning has determined the shape of things now.
There is no gap between what was and what is; our universe exists because of the continuity of all things—the laws of physics being an example. Life passes on to life; there is no abstract concept empty of life that the universe happens to fill.
No: love is not an empty abstract concept. It sustains and upholds the universe, from the vastness of a galaxy to the swirl in a rose, from woolly mammoth to humanity—love is all things that work with and for each other.
I have recollected the story of Job a few times recently, in which Job’s wife advocates for Satan when she says, “Why don’t you just curse God and die?” (Job 2:9).
Yet, St Peter helps us, as does the raw lament and faithful endurance of Job in hard times: “Always be prepared to give a reason for the hope that you have.” And, for us, that hope is the person of Christ. Christ is the architect and architecture of our hope, for His body is the temple in which we take refuge; His work upon the cross, His death and resurrection, are the hope that the early Christian martyrs clung to in their suffering and death. Their hope built the Church today. The place where we are gathered together and giving right praise to God, itself, resonates with history as a sanctuary for the persecuted Huguenots.
Hate therefore is not an emotion that leads to righteousness, but a zeal in our heart for the good, the true, and the beautiful.
Aristotle wrote in Politics, “For people do not want to be in partnership with the wicked, nor to share equally with them.” And yet we share a common humanity: the human in them is the human in me and in you too. Therefore we uphold the dignity of all persons, and yet impose consequences for those who seek to destroy. Consequences matter; we are not Christian doormats that tolerate wickedness—we actively seek to avoid it; we hate it.
Without the resurrection our faith is futile. Jesus Christ raised from the dead is the truth we hold on to through faith—faith in the testimony given by the witnesses to His life, death, and resurrection, passed on now for thousands of years.
The Church has stood the test of time and faith, and every age has had its challenges. But we as Christians today give a new witness to a world that has forgotten that the way we hold together is through humility and our love for one another through gentleness and respect.
As Christians we ought not to fight among ourselves, but instead challenge the logic of the world with love, for Christ wishes to save all souls. The world could do with a little more love—like that of the heart of a mother for her son; we too are to love each other with that same fire.
“I came to cast fire upon the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!” (Luke 12:49).
We look with the eyes of love upon the universe He created, for He saw all that He made and called it good (Genesis 1:31). The Apostles lived expectantly with the belief of His imminent return—do we? For tomorrow is promised to no one. Now, I am talking here to the converted; I see people in the congregation who do many things. Yet we know Jesus wants not the sum of all our acts, but our hearts. He wants our hearts to be oriented toward Him.
By the light of our faith and the steadfast hope in our hearts, we abandon the habits that lead us to sin—that is what separates us from the grace of God. For nothing separates us from His love; His love desires what is good for each and every human: “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you.” (Jeremiah 1:5). He knows all the hairs on our heads, collects all our tears in a bottle.
Therefore, if we are to suffer, let it be for doing what is right rather than for doing evil.
Life is so precious. In the desert of the universe, in the vastness of all space and time, He created you and deemed every person precious—so precious that He Himself became man and dwelt among us. The Word became flesh. There is nothing inherently sinful about our being-in-the-world—only our choices. So with what intention will we choose to belong in the place where we are? For we carry everything within us in the here and now; all past is done; there is only now.
Therefore, like David, we ask God to lead us in the way everlasting.
Amen.