St. Paul’s Church in
Bergen, Jersey City NJ
February 19, 2017
Year A: The Seventh
Sunday after the Epiphany
Leviticus 19:1-2,
9-18
Psalm 119:33-40
1 Corinthians
3:10-11, 16-23
Matthew 5:38-48
Love Begins with Empathy
It’s
hard to believe that we’re already more than halfway through the month of
February – this short and cold month when there’s been a whole lot going on in
our country and around the world and right here in our city and our church.
There’s
been so much going on, so much to think and talk about, that we really haven’t
said much about Black History Month – though I know lots of us are looking
forward to the musical event that Gail has prepared for us to enjoy on Friday
evening over at Incarnation.
So,
do any of you know why February is Black History Month?
Contrary
to myth, it’s not because it’s the shortest month of the year, but because it
began as a celebration honoring one of the greatest African-Americans, someone
who, despite being dead since 1895, has been in the news lately - Frederick
Douglass, who chose to celebrate his
birthday of February 14.
I
say chose to celebrate because Douglass, like most people born into slavery,
didn’t know the exact date of his birth. Even that simple thing – knowing one’s
birthday – was taken away by the great evil of slavery.
Although
I knew some things about Frederick Douglass, lately I’ve been reading more
about him and have become even more fascinated by, amazed by, his life and
character.
He
was born a slave in Maryland in 1818. His father was likely the master of the
plantation and his mother a slave, meaning he was not produced by love but by
rape.
He
was separated from his mother at a young age and was sold, owned, and passed
around by various white families.
Unlike
most other slaves he managed to learn how to read and write – which would make
all the difference in his life and for our history.
When
he was about 20 years old, Douglass ran away to the North, where he quickly
distinguished himself as an outstanding orator – he was a licensed preacher in
the AME Zion Church – and then as a writer, able to tell his harrowing story
with powerful eloquence.
He
was such a gifted speaker, such a talented writer, that many white people found
it hard to believe that he had ever been enslaved.
He
published several newspapers and advocated for the abolition of slavery and for
equal rights for women.
By
the time of the Civil War, he was already something of a living legend, the
most famous African-American of his day.
All
that is impressive and interesting, but, as I’ve read up on Frederick Douglass,
I’ve discovered something else about him that’s remarkable – and it’s the
reason why I bring him up today.
Frederick
Douglass was a man of deep empathy.
He
was a man of deep empathy, able to put himself in the shoes of others,
especially, amazingly, able to put himself in the shoes of his enemies, those
who enslaved him and millions of other men and women.
In
a way that most of his contemporaries didn’t recognize, or chose not to see, Douglass
understood that slavery and racism didn’t just harm black people. Douglass knew
that white people were also dehumanized by these great evils.
It
was dehumanizing to treat people like property.
It
was dehumanizing to force yourself on a woman that you “owned.”
It
was dehumanizing for white women to see and live among black children, slaves,
who bore a striking resemblance to their husbands.
Once,
when Douglass was being forcibly removed from a whites only railroad car he
said, “They cannot degrade Frederick Douglass. The soul that is within me no
man can degrade. I am not the one being
degraded on account of this treatment, but those who are inflicting it upon me.”
And
then, one of his most famous quotes:
“No
man can put a chain about the ankle of his fellow man without at last finding
the other end fastened about his own neck.”
In
today’s Gospel lesson, Jesus gives us one of his most challenging teachings – a
teaching that is unique to him:
“You
have heard it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But
I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that
you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes the sun rise on the
evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and unrighteous.”
Now,
I don’t know about you, but each time I’ve read those words, I’ve thought,
especially in our time of bitter divisions at home and abroad, I’ve thought we
have such a long way to go until we love our enemies, until we pray for those
who persecute us, until we become like God, who loves both our friends and our enemies.
Yes,
we have a long way to go, but the first step towards love is empathy, to put ourselves in the shoes
of others, to see and feel things their way.
And,
you know, the experience of Frederick Douglass teaches us that empathy can
actually break down walls, heal old wounds, and turn enemies into brothers and
sisters.
Years
after he ran away and after the Civil War and emancipation, Frederick Douglass
returned to the South, returned to the plantations where he had been enslaved
and met with some of the people who had oppressed him and their descendants,
the people he had written about and spoken about for so long.
We
might imagine ourselves returning to a place of such pain, determined to seek
revenge, to crush our old enemies, to burn these places and their people to the
ground.
But,
Douglass went in peace – and empathy.
At
one plantation, he visited with the grandson of one his former owners. There he
saw the closet where he had slept in a bag, where he had witnessed the brutal
whipping and beating of a woman slave.
Together
the former slave, this great man, and the owner’s grandson walked around the
plantation cemetery. The grandson picked flowers and presented them to Douglass
who held them as they chatted on the veranda – a bouquet that Douglass kept for
the rest of his life.
Jesus
said, “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may
be children of your Father in heaven.”
Douglass
also visited one of his former owners, Captain Auld, who by this time was a
bedridden old man.
Douglass
said he agreed to visit him because “He was to me no longer a slaveholder
either in fact or spirit, as I regarded
him as I did myself, a victim of the circumstances of birth, education, law,
and custom.”
Empathy.
When
they met, Captain Auld shed tears and said to his former slave, “If I had been
in your place, I should have done as you did.”
Empathy.
The
encounter left the great Douglass speechless.
Yes,
we have a long way to go, but the first step towards love is empathy, to put ourselves in the shoes
of others, to see and feel things their way.
The
experience of Frederick Douglass teaches us that empathy can actually break
down walls, heal old wounds, and turn enemies into brothers and sisters.
And,
if Frederick Douglass could feel empathy for those who enslaved him, then with
God’s help, with prayer and reflection and reading and imagination, we can take
the first step towards love by feeling and offering empathy for…
The
landlord who makes our life miserable to drive us out of our apartment so he
can jack up the rent.
The
drug dealers who stand menacingly on the street corner.
The
co-worker who talks about us behind our backs and tries to undermine us.
The
alcoholics begging for change outside Royal Liquors or Dunkin Donuts and who are
later passed out in doorways around the neighborhood.
The
person so desperate for money that he or she steals from us.
The
people who are so frightened and even overwhelmed by ever-faster social and
economic change, living in places with no jobs and no hope.
The
refugees fleeing oppression and violence to take a chance on a new life in a
faraway, and not always welcoming, land.
Our
“enemies,” those who hurt us or want to hurt us, who try to take away our
dignity, who try to degrade us in ways large and small.
If
Frederick Douglass could feel empathy for those who enslaved him, then, with God’s help, we can take the first step
towards love, take the first step towards being like God.
Love
begins with empathy.
Amen.
* For the material on Douglass in this sermon, I am
especially indebted to “The Liberal Imagination of Frederick Douglass” by Nick Bromell, in the
Spring 2008 issue of The American Scholar.
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