Slideshow image

Tonight we gather to take part in the ancient Christian tradition of having ashes marked in the shape of the cross on our foreheads. It’s a sign that speaks to the frailty and uncertainty of human life. It marks the repentance of our community as a whole. It calls us to remember that we are dust and to dust we shall return. 

Tonight marks the beginning of the season of Lent, 40 days in the Christian calendar when we recommit ourselves to self-examination, penitence, prayer, fasting, almsgiving, and reading and meditating on the word of God. Each of these spiritual disciplines warrants a sermon series of their own. This evening, I’ll address the discipline of prayer. 

Last week, during one of the daily prayer services here at St Clement’s, I prayed one of the most difficult prayers I have ever prayed. It started out something like this: “Dear God, I have been asked today to pray for Donald Trump. I confess that the words do not come easily to my lips.”

Afterwards, a parishioner reminded me of one of Jesus’ more radical teachings: “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.”

We find this teaching in chapter 5 of the gospel of Matthew. Chapter 5 is commonly known as the Beatitudes. Jesus is gathered with a group of disciples. He’s talking about how they ought to pray while under occupation from the Roman Empire, which sought to control and expel the disciples and their communities from the land. 

“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbour and hate your enemy,’” Jesus says to them.

“But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.”

I can honestly say that, in view of the political climate we currently find ourselves in, I’ve never found a teaching of Jesus more challenging than this one. Yesterday, tariffs were put in place by the United States government, and subsequent tariffs from the Canadian government implemented in response. The longstanding relationship of peace and goodwill between Canadians and Americans is in jeopardy. In the past month, transgender people have been removed from the Stonewall National Monument in New York, one of the most important memorials in human rights history. Just a few days ago, the president and vice president of one of the most powerful nations in the world told a nation under occupation that they were in fact the aggressor and really ought to be more grateful. This same president, amidst a fragile ceasefire agreement between Israel and Hamas, earlier this year declared his plans to turn the Gaza strip into a string of luxury hotels. 

Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you? It’s a tough ask, Jesus. 

Perhaps I can begin by saying what praying for our enemies is not. It is not praying that we can accept evil and injustice as “part of God’s plan.” Evil is not part of God’s plan. God’s plan is revealed to us in the Bible: in the ten commandments, in the covenant made with God’s people in the Hebrew scriptures, in the words of the prophets, and in the life and ministry of Jesus. God’s plan as it is shown to us over and over again in Holy Scripture is this: to seek justice, love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God. Tell me, where does evil fit into this?

Moreover, praying for our enemies is not about becoming an enemy ourselves. As we pray for our enemies, we must pray diligently to address the sin in our own hearts and in our own communities. Archbishop John Stephens recently drew attention to the sin of antisemitism in a letter addressed to clergy preparing liturgies and sermons for Lent. In his letter, Archbishop John wrote, “Throughout Christian history, references to ‘the Jews’ in scripture . . . have been used to perpetuate negative stereotypes and falsely assign blame for the death of Jesus. These references . . . obscure the fact that Jesus and his disciples were themselves Jews. As Christians, we confess and lament the history of anti-Judaism associated with these texts. We renounce the evils of violence and discrimination against Jewish people. We strive for mutual understanding, respect, and partnership with Jewish neighbours and commit ourselves to the work of reconciliation among people of all faiths.” 

Indeed, we must continue to confess and ask forgiveness for the sin of anti-Judaism especially where it is prevalent in our own Christian traditions. And, I’d like to suggest this evening another form of antisemitism that lurks in the shadows of Christian churches today, especially in the West. I’m speaking of anti-Arab rhetoric and the failure of Christians to recognize the attempted genocide of Palestinians in Gaza and the West Bank. Perhaps I can speak to this from my own heart as a priest. I confess that the reason that I am reluctant to speak to the plight of Palestinian people is because I fear being labelled antisemitic. I fear that my words will be received as anti-Israel and anti-Jewish. I confess that it is easier for me to say “there is suffering on both sides . . . it’s all very complicated” and bow out of the discussion than to have the humility and courage to address the issue head on, knowing that I will make mistakes along the way.

Here’s the thing, though; recently I learned that the word “Semitic” refers to a group of languages: Aramaic, Arabic, Hebrew and others originally spoken by descendents of the biblical figure Shem, the son of Noah. To me, this means that to be antisemitic is to be anti-Jewish, yes; it is also to be anti-Arab. And, as the state of Israel continues to occupy Gaza and the West Bank, backed by nations with considerable power, I fear that we, as Christians in the West, through our silence and inaction, risk turning our hearts from another Semitic people: Arabic speaking Christians and Muslims, who are disproportionately affected by the conflict in the Middle East. 

As we pray for our enemies this Lenten season, and at the same time mark our repentance as a community as a whole, I ask you to consider prayerfully the ways we as a Church are once again committing the sin of antisemitism by failing to stand alongside Palestinian people. I commend to you a book titled, The Other Side of the Wall by Palestinian pastor Munther Isaac who lives and works in Bethlehem. I commend to you also the free, public screening of the film, Where Olive Trees Weep which will be held here at St Clement’s on Saturday April 26th at 7 pm. All of the information is available on our website. All donations from the evening will go to the Anglican Church of Canada’s humanitarian response in Gaza and the West Bank.

I have spent some time saying what praying for our enemies is not. Perhaps I can leave you this evening with a single word that encapsulates what praying for our enemies is. That word is “dust.” Praying for our enemies is remembering that we as human beings come from the dust of the earth and it’s to the dust of the earth that we shall return. 

Which is to say, when we as Christians pray for our enemies, we pray for them as people who will one day face their Creator—as all of us will. We pray for the conversion of their hearts, even as we lament and rail against their actions in the world. When we pray for our enemies, we pray to the God who became fully human in Jesus Christ, Jesus who experienced suffering and pain, who did everything in his power not to be in power, Jesus who chose to stand with the weak and the vulnerable even unto death. 

Friends, as we begin our Lenten journey to the Cross and recommit ourselves to the discipline of prayer this season, I encourage you to pray the difficult prayers. Amen.