Fr. 
David Curry
	
	“Love your enemies”
	 
	“Love your 
	enemies”, Jesus says, not “Don’t worry, you don’t have any enemies”.  
	For he knows only too well about our enmities and hatreds.  Yet, 
	“love your enemies”, he says.  How absolutely impossible!  How 
	utterly improbable!
	 
	Why, we have 
	the hardest time imaginable loving the more obvious and, dare one say, more 
	ordinary objects of love: our friends and family, our country and world, our 
	God and Saviour. How can it be that we should be commanded to love those 
	that have set their faces, even their hearts, and souls and bodies against 
	us?  Yet, the demands of the Gospel are precisely impossible because 
	our ordinary loves are equally impossible.  They are all the places of 
	our enmity, too. 
	 
	Our enemies, 
	after all, are rarely far-off and faceless.  They are frequently only 
	too close at hand. Their faces are only too often mirrored by our own.  
	It is we who are at enmity with ourselves, with one another and with God.  
	It is no good pretending that our hearts are not touched by such enmities 
	when our hearts are precisely the places of enmity.  But it is 
	precisely in the face of these enmities - these animosities in the soul - 
	that we are bidden, indeed, commanded to love.
	 
	The demands of 
	the Gospel are just so radical because they take us to the root of all love 
	without which we cannot love.  They take us to the root from which we 
	must learn to love.  And that is why Jesus can demand such impossibly 
	high standards of perfection for our lives - because he takes us to the root 
	of all love which must blossom into the perfection of fruitfulness in our 
	lives.
	 
	The command to 
	love our enemies is not just an heightened expectation, something more added 
	on, an optional extra, as it were.  To the contrary, it belongs to 
	love’s very nature.  It is where love most shows itself to be love; 
	where love shows itself to be most free; where love shows itself to be most 
	perfect and complete.  For as the Epistle reminds us, “love your 
	enemies” takes us to the Cross as the place of death and life; “love 
	your enemies” recalls us to our baptism by which we are identified with 
	Christ in his Cross-given grace for us.  This radical love is nothing 
	less than Christ’s love in us.  What is impossible for us on our own 
	account is made possible in us. “Likewise reckon ye also yourselves to be 
	dead indeed unto sin, but alive unto God through Jesus Christ our Lord.”
	 
	But what does
	“love your enemies” mean?  It does not mean that your love has 
	bent them to your will for them.  Quite the contrary, the radical 
	meaning of this Gospel is that the enmities remain.  The oppositions 
	may be the very conditions in which love acts and moves. 
	 
	Love here does 
	not require or even seek any reward.  It does not depend upon any sort 
	of reciprocation, any motion of love in return.  Love does not depend 
	upon anything outside itself.  
	“Love your 
	enemies” - they may still be your enemies; “do good to them which 
	hate you” - their hatred for you may still remain; “bless them which 
	curse you” - their curses in voice and glare may still darken the air; 
	and “pray for them which despitefully use you” - their abuse of your 
	good will may still continue.  It is precisely in the face of these 
	given conditions of animosity and enmity that we are to love, to do good, to 
	bless, and, above all, to pray.
	 
	How is this 
	impossible love possible?  Because Christianity in its essence teaches 
	what no other religion teaches or knows, namely, our hatred of the good, 
	man’s willful antagonism against God.  The will to nothingness - that 
	much vaunted and celebrated concept of existentialism in its many guises and 
	disguises - is simply a known truth of the Gospel. Christianity, we may say, 
	brings to light the full evil of man.  Yet, this is the Good News 
	because it is in the face of this hatred of God that the absolute power of 
	God’s love is made known in Jesus Christ.  “God commended his love 
	towards us in that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us”.  
	As G.K. Chesterton wryly observed:
	
		
			
			There are many who will smile at the saying; but it 
			is 
			profoundly true to say, that the glad good news 
			
			brought by the Gospel was the news of original sin.
		
	
	Jesus Christ 
	loves us in the face of our hatred of him.  Our hatred of God is 
	visited upon him visibly and horribly at Calvary, but there, too, he shows 
	us that God’s love is greater than our hatred.  The place of hatred is, 
	more importantly, the meeting-place of lovers.  And insofar as he is 
	not only true God but true man, he shows us that the power of love belongs 
	to human perfection - to our truth in love as distinct from the lies of our 
	hatreds which diminish and demean us.
	 
	The Cross is 
	the possibility of this impossible love for us in our lives.  The 
	command to love your enemies simply voices what is seen on the Cross.  
	But what does it mean practically, as it were? 
	
	 
	“Love your 
	enemies” means to acknowledge them to God in the desire for his good 
	will towards them.  In acknowledging them to God, we place them beyond 
	the dark terrors of our hearts and the deep evil in our souls.  We 
	place them and ourselves in the care of God who has declared his friendship 
	towards us even in the face of our enmity.  There can be no greater 
	love than this and, yet, it can be none other than love’s own nature, its 
	truth, its freedom and its power.  It is commanded to be ours.
	 
	
	Jesus said, “Love your 
	enemies”