In a way, we
can be grateful to Jesus’ opponents,
They were constantly trying to find an excuse to discredit Him. Time and time again they’d approach Him with
their trick questions. The only thing
the lawyers and Saducees and Pharisees and High Priests and Herodians ever
really accomplished was to end up playing straight man, allowing Jesus to
elaborate on His teachings.
Every single time, He’d toss their trick question back in their
laps, using their question as a vehicle to preach and teach and reveal himself
to his listeners--and to us.
In this
morning's Gospel, it was the Pharisees who thought they had come up with a real
zinger. They were the religious faction that went beyond insisting on strict,
beyond even literal interpretation of the Laws of Moses. The "Law"
for the Pharisees had come to mean more than simply the Torah, the first five
books of the Hebrew Bible. For them, the
Law also included all of the subsequent interpretations and commentaries
and amendments that had been written in the centuries since Moses' time.
By Jesus’
time, the Pharisees had a system of some 613 commandments. 365 of them were prohibitions--"thou shalt nots", and 248
were imperatives--"thou
shalts." The intent was that you didn't break either the letter or the
spirit of the letter of the Commandments-- even by accident. They called
that “Building a fence around the Law“. We can still see an example this attitude in
the keeping of “kosher”. The Law says “thou
shall not boil a baby goat in it’s mother’s milk.” Therefore keeping Kosher
requires that dairy and meat be served at separate meals—and a strictly kosher
kitchen requires separate cooking utensils, separate eating utensils, plates,
cups, pots, pans, even separate cabinets and drawers for the storing of them.
There were so
many laws for the average working person to remember--and keep. And Jesus knew
that those who were approaching Him with their trick question about keeping the
Law had likely forgotten what the whole point of the exercise was in the first
place!
I wonder if
some them didn’t find the whole set of 613 commandments and prohibitions and
imperatives a bit daunting themselves!
Otherwise why would they have thought of using them in such a way--as a
trap--a way of catching up Jesus by playing one law off against the other?
The conflict
between laws-- between the letter of the law and its spirit--between values--
between moral imperatives-- between human law and God’s Will-- can become a
trap, even in our time. There are moral and political issues in our society--
in any society-- where it is absolutely impossible to take a prayerful,
thoughtful, sincere stance, without alienating somebody else who has also
conscientiously read and prayed and thought about the very same issues and come
to a totally opposite conclusion.
War and
peace. Abortion. AIDS. Divorce.
Homosexuality. Nuclear power. The role of women in the family and in the
church, the rights of all people—regardless of color or age or gender
identification Gun control. Inclusive language. Economic Justice,
Fundamentalism vs. Liberalism. Charismatics vs. Mainliners. All of these
call for deep concern and prayer and struggle on the part of each one of
us.
We must
acknowledge that, and recognize the sincerity of those who differ with us. And
then, finally, prayerfully, humbly, firmly, like Luther, take our stand. Of
course, we will also do our best to dialogue with those who differ with us, so
that they can finally come to understand, as James Carville so aptly put it,
that we are right and they are wrong.
Unfortunately though, agreeing to
disagree in mutual respect isn’t always possible. Even today, you could find
someone-- on both sides of any of
those issues-- who would undoubtedly have tried their best to trip up Jesus on
any one of these questions-- or many more.
There's an old story
about a senior pastor who was approached by a younger associate. The junior
minister had been approached by someone in the congregation with a tricky
question about faith and practice. It doesn't matter what the question was--
maybe it was an inter-faith marriage, or somebody wanting to start a new
program in the building, or a non-member wanting to participate in the
sacrament, or women wanting to be ushers-- you can fill in the blank. In any
case, the younger cleric wanted the senior pastor to approve the decision that
had already been made. Apprehensively, the senior Pastor asked:
"What
did you tell them?"
"Well,
first I asked myself, 'what would Jesus have done?..'"
"OH
NO!", interrupted the other, "You didn't do THAT did you?"
So it was
that the Pharisees came to Jesus and asked him,
"We have
so many laws Jesus, so many prohibitions and imperatives. Which one in your
opinion is the most important? Which commandment has the highest
priority?"
They figured
it didn't matter what Jesus said. They thought they'd be able to contradict him,
irregardless. But Jesus didn't fall into their trap. And yet at the same time,
He didn't dodge the question. Without a moment's hesitation, Jesus cited first
one commandment and immediately linked it to another.
"You shall love your God” And, "You shall love your
neighbor". And Jesus added that these two commandments are actually
not separate at all, but intertwined. In Mark's Gospel, Jesus says they are in
fact one and the same.
Love
God. Love your neighbor. Neither
commandment was original with Jesus.
Indeed He reached deep into His tradition of faith for each of
them. Love God with all your heart and mind and spirit-- the Shema.. Love your neighbor
as yourself-- the Golden Rule. Even the linking of these two commandments side
by side was not original with Jesus.
What was
original with Jesus was His weaving these two concerns together into one
single, new, interdependent commandment of the highest possible priority. Jesus
understood-- these are not two commandments-- they are one. You can't have one
without the other.
Without the
love of neighbor, the act of trying to love God becomes empty, barren and
fruitless. Without the love of God, the love of neighbor becomes little more
than an act of enlightened self-interest---disinterested philanthropy at best.
But together--the love of God and the love of neighbor become much more-- the
heart of our faith--the last and best hope of humanity in this broken world.
In our day
the word "love" has gained tremendous popularity. We sell products
with love. We love our country, love our
church, love our hometown, love our way of life, love our pets, love pizza,
love them Cubbies, love da Bears, or da Bulls or the White Sox. We love being a
girl, or a boy. We fall in love, and out
again. And we love it. We develop a case of puppy love, April love, May-December
love, even love in the afternoon. And don't forget who loves ya' baby.
"Love"
has become too easy for us. The word "Love" gets used for a whole
spectrum of emotions ranging from mild enjoyment to raging passion to lifelong
commitment. And we apply it indiscriminately to physical objects, ideas,
animals, places, even other emotions as well as other people. We over-use it so
much that we've started abbreviating it by drawing a heart. And what's worse,
we've even forgotten how to spell it! L-U-V!
But real
love, the kind of unselfish love that Jesus is calling us to here—means loving
the hard way. The rabbis understood the highest of God's attributes to be that
of Divine compassion--God's loving willingness to stand alongside us and to
suffer alongside us in our trials. Jesus calls us as well, to learn to love
through compassion, through putting ourselves into the other person's shoes.
His new,
improved combined commandment calls us to ask ourselves in all of our human
relationships--"How would I feel if somebody treated me that way?"
“Why in the world would we do that?” “Why in the world would I want to feel
like that?”
Because guess what? That's how
God feels--all the time. Agape--Christian
love-- compassion--the love that both the Old and the New Testament calls us to
is no more or less than our limited human attempt to reflect God's grace--that
same gift of unmerited favor that creates and upholds and redeems and empowers
us all.
Loving the
hard way is tough and caring and committed to the long-range best interest of
the other. It is the love that weeps
alongside us when we mourn, and rejoices with us when we are happy. And in so
doing, it multiplies our joy and divides our sorrow. This love confronts us when we are wrong and
heartens us when we are right. It afflicts the comfortable and comforts the
afflicted. And that is precisely the
sort of love that we see lived out in Jesus-- in his ministry, in his teachings, and on the cross.
"For God so loved the world
that....." You know the rest. When you and I come to understand that
right down to the marrow in our bones, we can see Jesus' call is really a call
to love God and neighbor as we have already been loved. It is infinitely
more than a call to experience warm fuzzies over people we already find cute
and loveable anyway.
Once we
understand that, then we come to be concerned about and experience compassion
for, and care for, and accept, and do all we can to meet the needs of all of
God children in this world. You and I
are called to love the hard way.
And frankly,
it doesn't matter one little bit whether or not we find them particularly
loveable. St.
Augustine
It doesn’t
matter if they are battling AIDS or Ebola, or the common cold. It doesn't
matter what color our neighbors are, or if they are rich or poor, or speak our
language, or if they pray or meditate or worship their Higher Power in a way
that we can discern. It doesn’t matter what gender they identify with or are
attracted to. It doesn't matter if we
always approve of the things they do, or the way they act or vote It doesn't
even matter if they act ungrateful, or are blind to our love, or even seem to
be using us.
My neighbor
is not required to have on clean
clothes, or be clean, or live in a house like mine, or live a life-style that I
approve of. If I call myself a "Christian", I am simply expected to
act in my neighbor's best interest. Sometimes even at what will seem to be the
expense of my own! And to do so willingly, joyfully. That's called loving the
hard way.
A.J. Muste, a
prominent Quaker and Pacifist of a few generations past once stood up in a
meeting and asked what good was his love, if he couldn’t love Hitler? Tough question!
Probably most of us today would
settle for figuring out how to look upon Barak Obama—or John Boehner. Are they both my neighbor? I’m free to
disagree with either or both of them. I’m free to question their common sense,
or ethical sensibilities, or motives, or even their personal theologies. But as a Christian, what I am not free
to do is hate, or demonize, or slander either one of them.
Frederick Buechner writes in: The
Magnificent Defeat.
The
love for equals is a human thing--of friend for friend, brother for brother. It
is to love what is loving and lovely. The world smiles.
The love for the less fortunate is a
beautiful thing--the love for those who suffer, for those who are poor, the
sick, the failures, the unlovely. This is compassion, and it touches the heart
of the world.
The love for the more fortunate is a
rare thing--to love those who succeed where we fail, to rejoice without envy
with those who rejoice, the love of the poor for the rich, of the black man for
the white man. The world is always bewildered by its saints.
And then there is the love for the
enemy--love for the one who does not love you but mocks, threatens, and inflicts
pain. The tortured's love
for the
torturer. This is God's love. It conquers the world.
That's tough.
I know it is. It's tough to tell an alcoholic family member to go away and get
sober because you know that at that moment, that's the thing they most need to
hear from you. It's tough to bite your lip and keep silent—much less lose an
argument in order to keep a friend. It’s tough to give an opponent credit for
their sincerity—especially when we know darned well they’re wrong and we’re
right. And it’s even tougher to admit when we’re the one who is wrong!
It's tough to
put an elderly relative into the nursing home when that's the best care that
can be found--and not simply because it's more convenient for you. It's tough
to leave, and stay away from a mate who abuses you-- that's called loving
yourself.
It's tough to
oppose the prevailing political opinion at work in regard to a moral issue.
It's tough to speak out against ageism, or racism, or sexism, or classism in a
joke-- it's a lot easier just to go ahead and laugh. It's tough to vote your
conscience when you know your candidate doesn't have a ghost of a chance.
It’s tough, as Luther did, to say
“Here
I stand. God help me. I can do no other” for the sake of God’s truth. And to put the proclamation of
that truth before church, state, tradition, the status quo, before one’s own
safety, for the sake of a world that desperately needs to hear and accept that
truth over human error, for the sake of the love of God’s people.
It's tough to give up smoking or
drinking, or gambling, for your family's sake. It's tough to keep on working,
keep on praying, keep on striving, keep on struggling and witnessing and
reaching out when you seem to get nothing in return. That's all loving the hard
way.
It's tough to
forgive. It’s tough to ask for forgiveness. It's tough to be willing to open yourself
without reservation to the needs of a brother or a sister and be prepared to
put your own needs on the back burner because that brother or sister really
can't cope with them. It's even tougher when others have always reached out to
you, to finally outgrow that cycle of dependency and start reaching out
yourself.
And perhaps toughest of all is to keep
praying during those times when you seem to get no answer-- or when the answer
always seems to be "NO".
All of that
is tough. All of that is loving your neighbor. All of that is loving God. All
of that is what Jesus calls us to do. And Matthew recounts that after Jesus had
answered the Pharisees that day, they did not ask Him any more questions.
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