Those Who Hate You
We are journeying through Psalm 139. To read the previous reflection, click here.
If only you would kill the wicked, O God!
Get away from me, you violent men!
They rebel against you and act deceitfully;
your enemies lie.
O LORD, do I not hate those who hate you,
and despise those who oppose you?
I absolutely hate them;
they have become my enemies.
Psalm 139:19-22
I wanted to skip this portion of our pilgrimage through Psalm 139. I thought about simply not mentioning it, quietly passing over these disturbing declarations to the next verse, which, although not necessarily comfortable, is at least about God’s thoughts toward me. (Join me here again next Sunday for that little bit of discomfort-with-potential-to-bring-great-relief.)
I am writing from Assisi, Italy, today, a city renowned for peace. Yet right here, in the house where I now sit in a quiet library overlooking the Basilica of St. Clare, evil dared try to break down the doors.
It was 1943, a heroic time when the brave Father Rufino Nicacci sheltered and protected over 300 Jews in Assisi, dressing them as monks and nuns and hiding them in monasteries. On the night of Monday, September 27, the sisters of Casa St. Anthony were awakened by the clamor of footsteps, ringing doorbells, and flashes of gunfire. To their surprise, they found it was their own house door that German soldiers were seeking to break down in a search for hidden Jews. The sisters dressed quickly and found the door jarred slightly open, yet the firm lock and bar across the door had prevented the soldiers’ entry. The armed men moved on as quickly as they had come, and Jewish families taking shelter inside St. Anthony’s were spared.
Today, descendants continue to tell the story of the Sisters encircling their families and praying for them in Jesus’ name as danger drew near. Christ’s love compelled His followers in Assisi to show kindness and provide refuge to those suffering the terrors of evil. As one Franciscan sister poignantly observed,
All of us were saved as a result of kindness!
Because of the kindness of the Lord in the hearts of His people, Assisi became a refuge for Jews, and no single refugee was ever captured within her walls. Contrast this with other Italian and European cities, where the cobbled sidewalks are scored with gold bricks like the mournful notes of Kaddish, marking the spots in front of homes and shops where men, women, and children were seized and sent to their deaths.
What would it be like if you and I became a refuge, offering our souls and lives as a safe place for those in need of life-saving shelter?
As the Chinese saying goes, the beginning of wisdom is to call a thing by its real name. We cannot call love love, nor peace peace, without calling violence and evil by their real, horrible names. We cannot be a refuge if we do not acknowledge the need for shelter caused by those who hate God. Denial leads to death.
We must contend with the truth in order to find Truth. Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. He invites all to find shelter in Him.
The truth is, evil exists. It does not spring from rocks, or winds, or sky. Evil springs from human hearts opposed to the love of God. They rebel against Him and act deceitfully. God’s enemies lie. From this flows much violence.
This is a somber message, beloved.
Yet to call a thing by its real name is to invite the mercy and forgiveness of God through Jesus Christ our Lord. His love and grace always meet us in the place of honesty. It is only He who overcame the hate. Only His blood accomplished the peace we long for. Only His resurrection banished death forever.
Let us take a Selah, a holy pause, and consider the great and mighty power of Jesus’ kindness over the most difficult truths in our world today.
Sacred Silence. Amen.
Read more about the story here.
A warm thank you to Sisters Sue and Alessandra for their kindness to me.
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