Becky and I just returned from a road trip to Memphis, Tennessee, where we enjoyed a wonderful post-Christmas visit with our daughter, son-in-law, and most-amazing-in-the-whole-world 11-month old grandson. From mid-morning on the drive down to early afternoon on the trip back, we were south of the Mason-Dixon line – a few miles of Maryland and West Virginiaand then a long north to south (and south to north) though the mountains of western Virginia and finally Tennessee from the northeast corner to the southwest corner (and southwest corner to northeast corner), nearly 500 miles of the Volunteer state. Bucksnort at Exit 152 on I-40 west of Nashville is our favorite place name of the whole long trip.
There is that charm thing about the American South. From convenience store workers to restaurant wait staff, hotel clerks to the members of Riveroaks Presbyterian Church, we encountered nothing but “Yes, sir” and “Yes, ma’am” and “How y’all doin’?” as if they really cared about how we all were doing.
The line, of course, is that Southern charm is a mile wide and an inch deep. Maybe so, I still like it. Even if the waiter doesn’t really care how we all are doing, it was nice to be asked.
In The Cost of Discipleship, Dietrich Bonhoeffer tells us that we learn to love both neighbor and enemy as an act of obedience, not as an outcome of our affections. We treat our neighbors as ourselves and serve our enemies as worthy of our care whether we feel like it or not. In time, in long obedience and by Christ’s costly grace, our obedient actions become instinctive responses. We learn love through obedience to the command.
Maybe if you say “yes, sir” and “yes, ma’am” often enough you begin to treat those others with a respect you might not have had at first. Perhaps, “How y’all doin’?” said often enough is the beginning of caring for the other.
Here in the Northeast we are not much known for hospitality, manners, or charm. “Get used to it,” we say. Our sports-loving son-in-law has asked more than once if Philadelphia fans are really as nasty as we’re said to be. Sometimes pretty nasty.
Obedience to Jesus’ radical command to love our neighbor as ourselves to extend such love even to our enemies, does not come naturally to any of us no matter on which side of the Mason-Dixon line we live. It comes by hard work and costly grace. But maybe, just maybe, it begins with “yes, sir” and “yes, ma’am”; “how y’all doin’?” as if we cared to know.
And, yes, it’s good to be back home.
See you Sunday.