Episode 2, Part 2
“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbour and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust” (Mt 5:43–45).
The instruction to love one’s enemies is the rhetorical high point of the Sermon on the Mount. Why? Because loving those who seek to harm or destroy you is the ultimate test of love—willing the good of someone who will not reciprocate. This teaching is made even more specific in the following: “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, do not resist an evil person. But if anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also…” (Mt 5:38–39).
Is this a call to passivity in the face of violence? No, it is a call to a new and radical form of resistance. It rejects the conventional responses to aggression—either to fight back or to flee—both of which ultimately fail. A slap on the right cheek, delivered with the back of the hand, was a sign of contempt. Fighting back would escalate the situation, while fleeing would embolden the aggressor. Jesus’ approach, exemplified in his own arrest in the Garden of Gethsemane, calls for neither. He neither fled nor allowed Peter to defend him with the sword: “Put your sword back in its place, for all who take the sword will perish by the sword” (Mt 26:52).
Standing firm offers a third way. It forces the attacker to reconsider their actions and humanity. It is not passive but a deliberate, provocative challenge to evil, confronting the aggressor with the possibility of change. Bishop Barron observes: “Passivity in the face of hatred is once again accepting an illusion. In turning the other cheek and walking the extra mile, Jesus advocates a provocative challenge to evil” (And Now I See…, p. 190).
In the 20th century, this approach was exemplified by figures like Archbishop Desmond Tutu in his fight against apartheid in South Africa, Mahatma Gandhi in his quest for justice in India, Mother Teresa in her service to the poor, and Pope John Paul II in his support of the Solidarity movement in Poland. Similarly, those who peacefully advocate for the rights of the unborn offer a silent, prayerful witness against the violence of the culture of death. As St. Paul exhorted the Christians in Rome, “Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them” (Rom 12:14).
The parable of the Prodigal Son (Lk 15:11–32) is one of Jesus’ most famous parables and offers a profound illustration of God’s mercy. In his encyclical Dives in Misericordia (On the Mercy of God), Pope John Paul II noted that although the word “mercy” does not appear in the parable, it expresses the essence of divine mercy with exceptional clarity (sec. 5).
The parable begins with a father and his two sons. The younger son demands his share of the inheritance, which signifies a rejection of the father’s authority and love. Sin, like this demand, is a rejection of God’s grace and a desire for autonomy. It severs our relationship with God, leaving us empty. The younger son takes his inheritance and squanders it in a distant land—a metaphor for how sin leads us into spiritual exile.
The Greek term chora makra (“a distant country”) represents a place of great emptiness, a state of separation from God. St. Ambrose described this state as “a departure from oneself… Whoever separates himself from Christ is an exile from his true home” (Exposition on the Gospel of Luke 7.213–14). In his isolation, the younger son is reduced to feeding pigs, the lowest possible occupation for a Jewish man. As John Paul II explained, the son realises the tragedy of his lost dignity and the squandered love of his father.
In his desperation, the son decides to return to his father and ask to be treated as a servant, realising even the lowest servants in his father’s house are better off than he is. Remarkably, the father sees his son returning from a distance and runs to embrace him—indicating that the father had been waiting and watching for his son’s return all along. John Paul II explained that the father’s joy and love for his son represents God’s relentless, unconditional love for humanity (sec. 6).
The father’s gift of a ring to the son is symbolic of restoring him to right relationship. The son, once dead in his rebellion, is now alive again. As St. Ambrose wrote: “He falls on your neck to raise you, who are burdened with sin, and brings you back to heaven.”
Meanwhile, the older brother’s anger reflects a misunderstanding of his father’s love. Though he had remained at home, he had done so as a servant, not as a son. He views his relationship with the father in terms of obligation rather than love, echoing the error of the younger son. His resentment illustrates how, when we lose sight of God’s love, we fall into hatred of others.
The father patiently reminds the older son that everything he has is already his, emphasising that God’s love is a gift, freely given. As John Paul II explained, God is not just Creator, but Father—desiring to share his very life with us: “He who loves desires to give himself” (sec. 7). The heavenly Father waits for us, always ready to welcome us back when we respond to His fatherly call.
In Matthew 22:34–40, a lawyer asks Jesus which of the commandments is the greatest. Jesus replies: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And the second is like it: You shall love your neighbour as yourself. On these two commandments depend all the law and the prophets” (Mt 22:37–40). This dual commandment unites love of God and love of neighbour.
The parable in Matthew 25:31–46 challenges us to examine how we live out this commandment, reminding us that our love of God is expressed through our love for others, especially the least and most vulnerable among us. To neglect the least is to fail to love God.
Peter Maurin, co-founder of the Catholic Worker Movement, lived this out by devoting himself to the spiritual and corporal works of mercy. He sought to transform society by embedding the principles of the Gospel into the social and political fabric of society. Together with Dorothy Day, he founded the Catholic Worker to live out these teachings and inspire others to do the same.