“Loving Our Neighbors”
Wisdom of Solomon 3:1-3, 7-9
Hebrews 12:1-2
Mark 12:28-31
Friends, it is hard to know what to say—or to preach—at times like this.
Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure that despite all our different theologies, spiritual practices, life circumstances, and degrees of belief and non-belief, not a single one of us has or will be voting for the candidate who promises to make our nation white, straight, male, misogynistic, aristocratic, deeply segregated, starkly unequal, and frighteningly hateful all over again.
So there doesn’t seem to be much point in saying why, for the umpteenth time, all those positions run counter to the extravagantly loving and radically inclusive ways of Jesus.
And yet our commitment to following Jesus in those ways compels us to say something. And, more than anything we do or don’t say, our faith calls us to action: to love God and to love our neighbor, which is to say, especially those people who are different from us.
Our faith also invites us to recognize the importance of loving ourselves, which I understand to mean, among other things, attending to our own needs, wounds, and feelings so that we might become the saints God created us to be and continue to grow in love, joy, peace, and wholeness.
And from what I can tell, many—if not most—of us are deeply worried about the outcome of Tuesday’s elections. Some of us are so anxious that we’re losing sleep, losing our tempers, losing faith in our fellow Americans, and losing hope for the future. For good reason, most of us are also worried that no matter who wins, we will enter a period of political upheaval, chaos, and even violence.
At times like this, it’s hard not to give in to the defensive impulse to double-down on our own positions. It’s hard not to grow more discouraged by the day as roughly half our nation’s voters, many of them good people, continue to support an unhinged man and his hateful, divisive, and authoritarian agenda.
And still.
On this All Saints and pre-election Sunday, when we remember the dear ones we loved and all they stood for, and when we pray fervently for our nation, the world, and all creation, it occurs to me that while we may not know what else there is to think or say or feel or do, we can still take comfort and find hope.
Because while we may not know what more we can do, we know who to turn to. While we may no longer know what to think or say, we still know how to ground ourselves in the love that is stronger than death and the peace that passes understanding. And while we may sometimes feel like strangers in a strange land, we are surrounded by both a great cloud of witnesses who have gone on to glory and a beloved church community that stands with us here and now. With their encouragement and support and Spirit’s power, we can run with perseverance whatever race ends up being set before us.
Because no matter who wins this election, there will be people in need of love and community.
No matter who loses, we will not be alone.
No matter who wins and who loses, we will still be living in a world of hurt, a world on fire, a world filled with people needing to be seen and heard, respected and understood, loved and lifted up.
No matter if the peddlers of fear and lies win an election, the followers of Love must stay true to the ways of Love.
And no matter what happens after a winner is declared, we are all going to have to figure out how to live and love and work and flourish together.
With that in mind, I want to tell you about an experience I had last weekend. As you know, I had been away for a while, and I needed some groceries. And so I headed to the Belchertown Stop & Shop, unconsciously assuming that my grocery-shopping experience would be the same as it ever was.
Spoiler alert: It was not.
The moment I walked in the door, I noticed that some things were not where they usually are. And the more shopping I did, the more I realized that almost every single thing in the store had been moved to a different location and almost nothing was where it had always been for at least 16 years. On top of all that, the aisles were narrower and some of the shelves were on wheels.
To say I was discombobulated is putting it mildly. I was so lost and unmoored that by the time I left the store I hardly knew my name or where I was.
At some point during this deeply unsettling experience, it occurred to me that grocery shopping is a pretty universal task and that if bad actors really wanted to mess with us and destabilize entire societies, they could accomplish a lot by simply turning every grocery store inside-out and upside-down.
And then, when I got outside the store and back to the familiarity of my car, I had another thought: In that moment, feeling the way that I did, I might be sorely tempted to vote for someone—practically anyone—who seemed to understand how I was feeling and was promising to put everything back the way it used to be.
I had gotten a glimpse into the fear, pain, and disorientation that are motivating at least some of the supporters of a man objectively unfit to serve as president of the United States. I tried to consider them and their situations, and how many of the laws and norms that had been in place for decades and even hundreds and thousands of years have now changed and moved around.
Most of us believe those changes were long overdue and that many more are still needed. We’re actually living and giving and working and praying for even more justice and equality.
Now I want to be clear: I’m not at all suggesting that moving things around in a grocery story is at all the same as making significant social change. And I certainly not suggesting that going back to the way things used to be politically, socially, economically and environmentally wouldn’t have devastating consequences for everyone and everything I love and care about.
But noticing how unsettled some relatively insignificant changes made me feel has helped to open my heart to a better understanding of others who might be feeling forgotten, mistreated, and afraid because of social and political changes.
What I am suggesting is that we practice developing compassion for all our neighbors. That we commit ourselves to loving all our neighbors. That no matter who wins and who loses this election, we start trying to build bridges of understanding from one side to the other.
And even as I say those words, I can feel myself going a little weak in the knees. The very possibility that hatred, division, and the deadly oppression of women, immigrants, LGBTQ folks and people of color might might come out of\ this election horrifies me.
And yet I know that I am called to love God, my neighbor, and myself, and that I cannot love God while hating—or even dismissing—my neighbor.
Most of us understand that to truly love our neighbor, we have to reject and transform the systems that oppress them. But do we also understand that loving our neighbor means liberating them from the fear that enslaves them? Do we understand that loving our neighbors means standing with and beside them all and working for their liberation?
It’s extraordinarily difficult, especially when those neighbors don’t respect, understand, or stand with us, especially when some of those neighbors want to oppress us.
And . . . it is the way of Jesus. That way is often filled with light and love and companions, and sometimes it is just plain scary. And sometimes I just don’t want to go there.
And yet, through it all, I want to stay grounded in goodness and grace. I want to be able to hold fast to what is good and grow in love and hope. Through it all, I want the life that God’s mercy and grace promises us.
I want these things for all of us, for all people and all creation—which is why I’ll be attending the pre-election prayer vigil on Zoom tomorrow evening. I hope to see you there. And I’m also considering the possibility of another gathering sometime after all the votes have been counted and a winner has been declared.
No matter what happens, with God’s help we will be here for one another. No matter what happens, with God’s help we will keep on loving God, our neighbor, our earthly home, and ourselves.
May it be so.
