St. Francis' Episcopal Church

Serving Eureka, Wildwood, and Surrounding Communities

August 2005 Chalice Article

The news had come into my living room again and through my car radio.  Bombings in London.  Innocent lives taken in an instant.  And eventually the news:  suicide bombers.  Men who, in the name of God, were willing to kill themselves and others.  In distress, I found myself saying to a colleague, “I am angry at Islam.  I know that’s not a politically correct thing to say, but I am.” And he, who has many Muslim friends, could merely nod in acknowledgment of that sentiment.  I have no Muslim friends and know only a little about this religion.  Some Muslim voices protest that Islam is a religion of peace, but I want to cry “Let me see some proof of that!”  While I will acknowledge that not all Muslim are terrorists, it seems that the majority of the terrorists in the world are Muslims.   

Yet, I am reminded of a conversation my mother had with a Bosnian woman.  For three years, Mom has had a succession of young Bosnian women clean her house.  They call her Grandma because she reminds them of their own grandmothers.  My mother is Slovak, and there are many cultural similarities between her and these young women.  But she is Roman Catholic and was having a hard time figuring out how these women, who seemed so like her, could be of such a different religion.  Mom, never shy of asking questions, finally asked one young woman if she was Muslim.  “Yes,” the woman responded, “but we’re not that kind of Muslims.”   

No religious group has the market on hatred.  Last month, we in St. Louis remembered with our new Bosnian neighbors the “ethnic cleansing” that they experienced in their own country only ten years ago.  It was so-called “Christians” who raped women and girls and slaughtered their husbands, sons, brothers, and fathers.  Throughout history human beings have been more than willing to exercise terror against other human beings, and often, self-righteously, it has been in the name of God.  Ironically, it has often been in the name of Jesus Christ.  Yet, Jesus said, "You have heard that it was said, 'Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I tell you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven.” He also said that the greatest commandment was “Love God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself.”  Then, when pressed, he told a story in which the “neighbor” was someone whom his listeners would have considered their enemy.   

If there is one word that sums up the Incarnation:  the birth, life, teaching, death, resurrection, on-going Spirit . . .  the event of Jesus Christ, that word would be love.  Selfless, radical, undeserved, limitless love.  And Jesus stressed to his disciples that they were to be known by their love.  By virtue of our baptism, we are disciples of Jesus Christ.  So, how are you doing with that love thing?   

I once read a book entitled When Bad Christians Happen to Good People. A couple of years ago, a guest speaker did a series here called Why Do Christians Shoot Their Wounded.  In our country, “Christians” are bombing abortion clinics and killing innocent people.  At the last several General Conventions of the Episcopal Church, deputies have had to walk past groups of people, some of them children, spouting venom at “fags and anyone who supports them” in the name of Jesus Christ.  It’s so bad that I know Christians who don’t even want to be called Christians because “they’re not that kind of Christian.”   

Yet, I wonder, what kind of Christian am I?  Am I the kind who takes up the banner Jesus Christ and then self-righteously walks through the world convinced that I am right in all I do?  Or do I put on Jesus’ mantle of humility and seek the face of Jesus Christ in all I see?  Christianity is supposed to be a religion of love.  There are most likely Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, atheists, and plenty of others throughout the world who want to cry “Let me see some proof of that!” We cannot speak for all Christianity; we can only represent ourselves, our congregation, and, perhaps, the Episcopal Church.  And in that capacity, we need to ask ourselves, “Would they know I am a Christian by my love?”