The Prayer of St. Francis has always been very special to me. In a series of entries over the next couple of weeks I plan to break down each line and what it means to me.
"Where there is hatred, let me sow love"
None of these lines are easy to say if you truly mean them. This particular line is difficult on two different levels: speaking out against hatred by others and eliminating the hatred that you have inside.Speaking out against hatred is difficult for most. We idolize those that do it without pause:
How many times have you heard someone say something about “those n***ers” and not done anything about it? There are several people in my life that are bigots and make no bones about it. Some of it is generational, but I also know a guy that is 25, a professed Christian, but talks about not having to go to the zoo “because I can sit on my porch and watch all of the monkeys.”
I have not, until recently, said anything about it. Confrontation is hard, especially when with someone with which you have to deal on a regular basis. However, I would rather lose that person’s friendship than my own dignity.
Religious people can be some of the most hate-filled people that you’ll every meet. Devout Christians will spout some of the most bigoted thoughts that you’d ever hear. Bear in mind, I am not talking about beliefs; I’m talking about when they talk about specific people or ethnic groups.
We forget so easily that Jesus taught love across every imaginable barrier. The parable of the Good Samaritan is a perfect example. Read it again…even if you’ve read it before.
Just then a religion scholar stood up with a question to test Jesus. "Teacher, what do I need to do to get eternal life?"
He answered, "What's written in God's Law? How do you interpret it?"
He said, "That you love the Lord your God with all your passion and prayer and muscle and intelligence—and that you love your neighbor as well as you do yourself."
"Good answer!" said Jesus. "Do it and you'll live."
Looking for a loophole, he asked, "And just how would you define 'neighbor'?"
Jesus answered by telling a story. "There was once a man traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho. On the way he was attacked by robbers. They took his clothes, beat him up, and went off leaving him half-dead. Luckily, a priest was on his way down the same road, but when he saw him he angled across to the other side. Then a Levite religious man showed up; he also avoided the injured man.
"A Samaritan traveling the road came on him. When he saw the man's condition, his heart went out to him. He gave him first aid, disinfecting and bandaging his wounds. Then he lifted him onto his donkey, led him to an inn, and made him comfortable. In the morning he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper, saying, 'Take good care of him. If it costs any more, put it on my bill—I'll pay you on my way back.'
"What do you think? Which of the three became a neighbor to the man attacked by robbers?"
"The one who treated him kindly," the religion scholar responded.
Jesus said, "Go and do the same.
Our Senior Pastor, Dave Workman, had a great way of putting this story into a setting that we understand today. Samaritans were the scum-of-the-earth to the Jews in Jerusalem. They believed that they were the real Jews and that the Israelites had it wrong. These aren’t the exact examples that Dave used, but they get the same message across.
So, if you’re white, read this one:
There was once a middle-class white man traveling from Dallas to Houston. On the way, he was attached by robbers. They took everything that he had, beat him senseless and left him for dead.
Luckily, a minister was driving down the same road. However, when he saw the man, he looked away and sped down the street. Then, an upper-class man came down the road in his BMW, saw the injured man, but zoomed right by, leaving dust in his wake.
Jesse Jackson just happened to be traveling the same road. When he saw the injured white man, his heart went out to him. He took loaded him into his car and took him to urgent care to get him all fixed up, picking up the bill. From there, he drove to him a hotel in Houston and made him comfortable in the bed. He stayed there to watch over him through the night and, in the morning, he gave $100 to the desk manager saying, “If it costs more, just put it on my tab. I’ll settle up after my meeting.
If you’re black, just replace “white” with “black” and “Jesse Jackson” with “George Bush”.
You can do the same with “Republican” and “Nancy Pelosi.” Maybe “Democrat” and “Sarah Palin.”
The point is this: it doesn’t matter what color/religion/political party/etc you are. Love is blind and should not come with conditions or filters.
Eliminating the hatred that you have for others may be even more difficult. To me, there is nothing harder than admitting that you have a hatred for someone/a class of people in your heart. It may be as a result of something done to you by a specific person, something that you were raised to believe, or just something that you believe through sheer ignorance.
The best example in today’s world is the vilification of Muslims. As a result of the actions of a small percentage of a largely people, many Americans believe that all Muslims want to “kill the infidels” and destroy America. They are seen as a violent nation that just wants to blow things up.The word “jihad” (basically a holy war) is thrown around like it’s a major part of the faith. The reality is that most Muslims believe that a jihad can only be declared by a “divinely-appointed leader.” Since Allah hasn’t done this since the 9th century, almost all Muslims do not believe that a military jihad is even possible. A small sect of the Sunni Muslims are the only ones that believe that it is a part of the faith and have made it their “Sixth Pillar.”
I’m not saying that I believe what the Muslims believe. There are some things that I find appaling (i.e. mistreatment of women). That’s the thing about hatred. You don’t have to believe what someone else believes to not hate. I can still love someone and not agree with them. The hatred comes when you allow yourself to vilify those with whom you do not agree or share a common bond (i.e. race or creed).
I struggled with racism through my high school years and into my early adulthood. There are still some remnants of this of which I am not proud. I still lock my doors when driving through a lower-class black neighborhood. I’m still suspicious of a group of Mexicans.
All I can do is pray for guidance and hope that God helps me to feel some of the love that he has for everyone.
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