WE STOOD AT A DISTANCE, WATCHING. We looked on silently as Jesus took his place on the top of a mound, waiting patiently for those who had gathered to settle themselves. We looked with a certain displeasure and discomfort at the disorderly mob that surrounded him. There must have been hundreds of people pushing in to hear his words, most of them poor and hungry. The place was brimming over with the sick and the dispossessed, the widow and the orphan, the ones without a voice and without hope. We watched as Jesus looked at them with compassion and prayed peace into their lives. As he stood before them, we heard him pronounce blessing upon those who are poor in spirit, for those who are mourning, for those who are meek, for those who are merciful despite their hardships, those who are pure in spirit, and upon those who seek peace rather than war.
But Jesus also challenged them saying, “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.” He said to them, “If someone strikes you on one cheek, turn to him the other also. If someone takes your cloak, do not stop him from taking your tunic. If someone forces you to carry their pack one mile, carry it two. Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back.” Then he finished by saying, “Do to others as you would have them do to you. Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven.”
When he had finished, he turned toward the west, where we were sitting, we who have the power, who have the authority, and who have a voice. For a time he just stared at us, then he approached and addressed us directly: “Do not be mistaken, these words are not for you.”
Then Jesus raised his voice and said, “I am sending you an infinitely more difficult message.”
A time is coming when those you now treat as enemies and slaves will show you nothing but love in return, when those who you curse with indifference will offer you blessing. When you slap these people on the right check, be prepared, for they will turn their left check toward you. When you steal their cloak, they will offer you their tunic. And when you demand that they carry your possessions for one mile, they will freely carry those possessions for two. They will give freely what you demand from them, and they will not seek to gain back what you have stolen from them. They will treat you as they would long to be treated. You will judge them but they will not judge you. You will condemn them but they will not condemn you.
Before leaving us he finished by saying, “These people are my message to you. Heed this message and you will live. Ignore it, and you will perish.”
Whenever we open up our Bible and read that Jesus commands us to love those who hate us, bless those who curse us, and repay evil with kindness, it is easy to apply this to our daily interaction with others. However, these teachings were not given to people like us (by us I mean people who can afford to buy this book and are educated enough to be able to read it). These were not spoken primarily for the powerful to apply as middle-class moral platitudes. They were spoken to the powerless, whose country was under occupation and whose very lives were under constant threat. It is likely that, like me, you do not face the kind of persecution that Jesus’ original listeners faced. Indeed the unpalatable truth may well be that we are the ones who oppress the type of people that Jesus spoke with—not directly with hatred in our hearts, but indirectly through the clothes we buy, the coffee we drink, the investments we make, and the cars that we drive. By reading these words in an affluent, Western setting we can so easily domesticate the words of Jesus to the extent that they become little more than advice on how to treat a shop assistant or a passerby.
In the above story I attempt to undermine the reduction of Christ’s words to the level of inane politeness by drawing out how the words are directed toward the oppressed rather than toward the oppressors. In this way I am attempting to remind myself that these words are spoken to those people whom I hurt and destroy through the choices I make on a daily basis, and that I am merely overhearing them. In the above story, I ask myself to imagine what Jesus would say to me if I had been there at the time. Would he address me with the words “If someone takes your cloak, give them your tunic as well”? Or would he be more likely to address me with the admonition “Stop stealing from the poor”?