“What Good Is Loving Our Enemies?” by Rev. Brent Newberry

Author Glennon Doyle tells a story about the early days of the Vietnam War. Every night the same man would light a single candle and hold vigil in front of the White House. After the candle burned down, he would leave, only to return the next day. A reporter asked him if he really believed that one person could change White House policy. In Doyle’s telling, the man responded, “Oh, I’m not doing this to change them. I’m doing it so they don’t change me.”

Here we are fifty years later, faced with another generational moment requiring courage in the face of our worst authoritarian impulses and with ever clearer examples of rampant abuses of power and people.

What are people of good will to do? How do we fight back without losing ourselves in the process?

The Christian tradition offers a word of difficult guidance on the matter, and it is good advice no matter one’s spiritual beliefs.

Consider one of Jesus’ most disliked and famous teachings. In Luke, Jesus says, “Love your enemies. Do good to those who hate you.” Prior to these words, Jesus had been lamenting how rich people mis-prioritize their lives. Jesus is speaking, at least in part, to those with power—”love those you resent or blame or fear or exploit. Whoever your enemies are, love them. Don’t mistreat them. Do right by them.”

Presumably, there weren’t that many powerful or rich people in the crowd following this itinerant preacher, so Jesus continues by shaping the rest of his message for the poor and downtrodden. They too, are supposed to love their enemies—the employer who screams at them and only gives out the occasional cost of living increase and treats it like a merit raise. The neighbor who stole your rake, the people trying to deport you for being tanner than they are, the leaders who think they know more about your body than you do.

Love them, too.

It’s a profound reversal of expectations in a culture built on reciprocity, versions of which still exist in our world today. People still schmooze with the powerful to get charges dropped or to keep secrets from getting out or to win financial benefits and contracts. I scratch your back…

Instead, Jesus is saying, regardless of what you can gain from kindness, do it anyway, and especially, when someone is being unfair or mean. Because except in cold regions of the country like Massachusetts, it’s easy to be nice to someone who’s nice to us.

Within his command to love our enemies, Jesus gives two examples. First, he says, that when someone slaps you, you should turn the other cheek to them. Or if someone takes your coat, give them your cloak, too.

On the surface, this is problematic, not just because we want retribution when we are aggrieved—you could win an election that way—but because of what it seemingly asks of those who are mistreated or victimized by their government or the people with power. Why should the abused give in to more abuse, and why do the wronged have to be the bigger and better people? Where’s the justice or safety in that?

This isn’t a case of fighting a forest fire with a single wet blanket. Contrary to our first impression, this is actually about fighting fire with fire. Just not the way we expect.

Noted scholars like Amy Jill-Levine, Walter Wink, and others offer insight into Jesus’ difficult command to love our enemies. They make clear that his command is not a call to passivity or submissiveness that allows more abuse to take place.  Rather, they see in Jesus’ words potent examples of nonviolent resistance.

Consider for instance how a slap would take place in the ancient world. A person in authority wouldn’t slap someone with an open hand unless that person was of an equal social standing. Instead, the employer or person in authority would slap an employee with a backhand across the face with their right hand. This was an assertion of their authority and dominance. The left hand wouldn’t be used because it was often considered unclean.

Enter: Jesus’ suggestion to turn the other cheek. The initial slap, a backhanded slap from the aggressor’s right hand, would land on the victim’s right cheek and force their head to their left. Turning the other cheek (the left) to the aggressor is a sign of defiance and dignity then, because the aggressor is faced with a choice: slap with a backhanded left hand, which again, was not an option because it was considered unclean, or slap the newly exposed left cheek with an open right hand. But again, that would be reserved only for someone of equal social standing. Turning the other cheek then, isn’t a weak call for us to be passive or allow more abuse, but it is, in fact, the opposite—a non-violent act of resistance that reclaims our dignity and autonomy in the face of mistreatment and that simultaneously shames the perpetrator.

The same goes for someone taking your coat in Jesus’ day. This initial act of power and humiliation would be reversed if you willingly removed your shirt or cloak too. This is because it would expose your nakedness, which Wink says was a humiliation not just for the naked person but for the viewer and the one who caused their nakedness as well.

Jesus concludes this entire thread saying, “Treat people the same way you want to be treated.” Or in more familiar parlance, “do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”

To the oppressor or person with authority, the command is clear: treat people with dignity and respect and equality.

And to the oppressed or wronged, the command is not to retaliate, but to assert your humanity to the extent you want your aggressor to see and treat you.

Most profoundly, and contrary to ancient and contemporary cultural assumptions, by not seeking revenge, the roles and power are reversed. By offering kindness and not retaliating in the face of mistreatment, you become the benefactor and they the beneficiary of the mercy they never extended you.

In a back-and-forth on one of my favorite comedy shows, a debate unfolded about whether Gov. Gavin Newsom of California was using the best strategy by trolling the President with outrageous and bellicose tweets. Some said yes, and one person said no. He wondered if his party was really any better if they were simply resorting to the same tactics. He went on to explain, “We don’t fight fire with fire; we fight it with water.” To which a different panelist responded, “Sometimes you use fire. Have you ever heard of a backfire?”

I hadn’t, and when I looked it up, he was right. Sometimes, firefighters start smaller fires further away in order to burn away any trees or brush that would be more fuel for the main fire. The backfire serves as a bulwark against further spread, fighting the fire with a dead end of resistance and forcing it to change direction.

The message today is profound: don’t fight a fire with the same kind of fire; retaliation only fans the flames of continual rage and hatred. The message today is to fight fire with a strategic backfire, with a non-violent resistance that quenches the momentum and sometimes even shames the perpetrator into changing their ways.

Regardless of whether any of it changes them, loving our enemies will ensure one thing:

They won’t change us.

Only we can do that.