The picture above is the back of a Tee shirt. My wife went
to Louisville last week and the only thing she brought me back was this lousy
Tee Shirt. Well, not really lousy. I love it. Not only does it create a lot of
attention—but I also think it is one of the neatest ideas I have heard lately.
Pablo Casals once said that “the love of one’s country is a
splendid thing. But why should love stop at the border?” Jesus knew us better than we know ourselves
when he said Love your neighbor. Like us, they wanted him to qualify that
statement. “Jesus, exactly who is my neighbor?” They thought he would say Jews
or the people of their own kind. Jesus would
never let love stop at any border. And that’s the task of the Christian today—maybe
every day and every age.
We all know loving is a whole lot better written about than
done. And we all have people that drive us up the wall. Sometimes it’s Obama
and sometimes it is Mitt Romney. Sometimes it’s Muslims or Scientologists
or Mitch McConnell or Nancy Pelosi. It
may even be Auburn if you are an Alabama fan. And if you live in South Carolina
you can’t love the Clemson Tigers and the Carolina Gamecocks. You got to pick
and choose. And—if you went to college at a small Baptist school surely you
know that those people at Harvard really are pointy-headed and elitist. And we
haven’t even begun to talk about all these Hispanics that are supposedly
ruining a perfectly good country.
Jesus knew we wouldn’t feel warm and squishy with
everyone—that’s sentimentality at best. When Jesus said love your
neighbor I think he was talking about doing right by everyone, making sure that
everyone was in the circle, no demonizing, no looking down one’s nose, no us
and them or we and they. We’re it. And—we’ve got to get along or we are going
to find ourselves just like those people in the cage that Mark Twain talked
about.
Jesus got into big trouble because he never stopped at the
border. I keep thinking of those 50
million without health care. How hard it must be for them to sleep at night. I
keep thinking about Mr. Romney when people sneer at him because he is rich and
vacations at a place that would not let us in the front door. And my blood pressure goes up (and I close the borders, folks)
when people start talking about how Mr. Obama must be a Muslim or some kind of
a secret spy from outer space or Kenya. We’ve got to turn down the
temperature in this country or we are all going to burn up.
Start small. Lord knows we all have family members it is
hard to love. Look down your street at someone down right peculiar and
difficult. Branch out. Your homework and mine may be a little different—but
Jesus said we have to love. It really is something we do. Whether we feel all
warm and palpitating hardly matters. It does matter how big our borders are.
Maybe that’s the acid test. Well—enough of my rantings—I think I’ll go try on
my new Tee Shirt and walk down the street and see what happens. Maybe I’ll meet
that peculiar neighbor and change my ways difficult though it probably will be.
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