SERMONS COMING SOON ....
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COLUMNS
Robin also contributes a regular column to the Bashaw Star and The Chautauqua newspapers.
Here are some recent ponderings ...
Where's your Joy at? (Week of December 18, 2011)
This year, I plan on wishing everyone a "Very Joyful Christmas."
I'm planning on it. I'll probably forget every now and then and go with the old standard "Merry Christmas." Some people like a good "Happy Christmas." Or the new (relatively) "Happy Holidays," to be more inclusive. Or even a "Season's Greetings." I never really cared for that one: it seems a little impersonal and overly generic. Which "season" and which "greeting" did you have in mind? The plural, "greetings," implies there could be more than one. And it could be winter or Advent or Christmas or Hanukkah or, well, others.
No, I'm going with "Joyful Christmas." Here's why.
Not everyone is merry or happy. For some, merriment is overwhelmed by grief, loneliness, pain, poverty, illness, unemployment or simply stress.
But true joy - that's something different. I believe everyone, somewhere deep in our hearts, everyone may find joy. Sure, it can be happiness and merriment and all smiles and laughter. It can be, but it is more than that: true joy, that's something that goes to the very core of who we are, the very deepest corner of our hearts, the very darkest place, and brings light.
I believe that true joy is found in the moment in which we find God present in our lives in a way which brings wholeness to our spirit. There may be happiness, there may also be comfort and peace, a sense of rightness and a sense of certainty.
Someone said that the real joy of Christmas isn't in the presents under the tree, but in the presence of God in our lives. At Christmas, that becomes real in the baby born in Bethlehem. Jesus came into the world so that we would rekindle our relationship with God, so that we might see the light of joy in the darkness. "The Word became flesh and dwelt among us," writes the author of the Gospel of John, the "light of the world" became real. In living the Way of Jesus, we bring that presence to our everyday lives.
Still, joy is often not the first thing we feel. The way to joy can take us through pain and grief, struggle and disappointment. I know that it is easy to say and harder to live, but at the heart - the heart - of any feeling of loss is the remembering of that which has been lost. The physical experience may be past, but we re-member and it grows in our living on. In our disappointments, is it possible that we might find some joy in having done our best, or learned how to do our best from it? Is it possible for us to look past the disappointment of an unsuitable gift and look more closely at the giver? Can we find more in the relationship we have with that person, than the pair of bright orange socks they gave us for Christmas?
God gave a baby, born to a poor couple who probably feared the questions people would ask about his parentage as much as they feared being able to afford to feed him. The baby was born with little help in a dirty stable. Angels didn't tell the wealthy or the wise first, they told poor, struggling shepherds that nobody really appreciated or respected. The magi who came with gold, frankincense and myrrh had to work hard to follow the star and when they found the baby, they barely escaped with their lives. Lots of children didn't, thanks to Herod's fear.
There's lots in the Christmas story that's about struggle and pain and fear. But at it's heart is simply this: the joy of a moment of new life. In that new life is the promise of the future.
May this Christmas bring you joy.
How're you using your time? (Week of November 27, 2011)
"But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come." (Mark 13:32)
On the back wall of our church in Bashaw is a clock. You probably wouldn't even notice it. In fact, sitting in a pew, you couldn't even see it. It's there, I think, mostly so that the minister can see what time it is. Or, I suspect, so that the minister will know exactly how long he or she has been talking. And when they should stop.
But there's a funny thing about this clock. It bothered me a little for awhile. Most everyone I mentioned this to, though, thought I was being ridiculous and a little obsessive.
The clock has no second hand.
More accurately, the clock had a second hand. It fell off and is sitting at an odd angle in the bottom of the clock face, trapped under the glass.
The clock still keeps the right time, mostly, but, for me, it somehow seems to be missing something, it somehow seems to be less whole. It's lost its seconds.
The clock in our church in Mirror, even the clock in the office, they have second hands. In fact, they're quartz and you can hear the time ticking by, but this clock seems to me to be somehow … broken.
I know, it seems a little ridiculous, doesn't it? And I have come to terms with it and wouldn't change it. But it reminds me of something important at this time of year.
The season of Advent, those four weeks before Christmas, are traditionally a time of waiting, of anticipation of what is to come. The scripture passages we hear during this season admonish us to be ready, to be awake and prepared, not just for the seasonal commemoration of Christmas, but for the promised return of Jesus.
The Second Coming is often associated with judgement, with a great apocalypse, the End Times when all will be held accountable. Or in another word: fear.
My question to you: who's got time for that?
Of course it seems silly to be worrying about that second hand. Life isn't made more or less whole by the passage of time, but by what you do with it.
I don't believe Jesus wants us to just sit around doing nothing but waiting for the promised end, any more than I believe that Jesus wants us to fear it. I believe Jesus wants us to live lives filled with love and compassion and the kinds of things that make you not look at the clock.
Yes, that's right: not look at the clock.
Let's face it, when you're watching the clock, it's because you can't wait for something to be over. Like an overly long sermon. When you're engaged, you don't look at the clock. You're too busy with how the time is passing to pay attention to how much time is passing. When how you live has value, the duration of those years is less important than how you filled them.
"Beware, keep alert," Jesus says. Beware that your life is lived full of love and joy, not paralyzed with fear and regret. Be alert to all around you, there is where you will see Christ.
Got a Light? (Week of November 6)
I'm struggling with wisdom a little this week.
On our church's calendar, November 6 is Remembrance Sunday. My first struggle was with the wisdom of recognizing Remembrance Day on the Sunday before, seeing as how it's so far before. Besides, I grew up Anglican, and, in the old days, things that didn't fall on a Sunday were recognized on the Sunday after - "the Sunday in the Octave," they used to say.
I thought about it, though, and it does seem wise. By taking another opportunity to draw attention to it, there might be a few more people who might see Remembrance Day a little better and give more attention to its meaning than just the day itself. And I think we all should.
But the scripture readings set for November 6 this year are about wisdom and preparedness. The reading from Matthew's gospel is the parable of the ten bridesmaids, waiting for the bridegroom to arrive (Matt. 25:1-13). They don't know when he's coming, but only five are "wise" enough to bring extra oil for their lamps, in case it is late in the night. Sure enough, it is, and the other five run out so they have to go and get more. As a result, they miss the groom's arrival and are locked out. "Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour" (Matt. 25:13).
Well, that certainly seems like common sense: be prepared. Whether you're in Scouts or "Lion King," it's always a good idea to be prepared. Yes.
For what?
Perhaps that's not a fair way to ask the question. The context in Matthew is Jesus talking about his return, the Second Coming, the End of Days. This part of Matthew is about Jesus reminding people to always be ready because we just don't know when that will happen.
When we prepare for other things in our lives, we tend to think in terms of already knowing what might happen. Take an umbrella in case it rains, for example, or always have a spare tire in case you get a flat, or gloves in case it's cold, or a spare light bulb in case that one burns out, or have lots of weapons handy in case war breaks out.
Hmmm. Exactly how do we prepare in case peace breaks out?
Perhaps that's the more important question. Not "for what," but "for how?"
The bridesmaids didn't bring the whole party with them, they brought only the one thing that they needed: the light by which they could see who was approaching.
Perhaps the first person to come their way wasn't the groom, perhaps it was a delivery for the party or someone needing directions to the next town or perhaps a jealous ex-boyfriend.
The point is, how will we know if we cannot see, if we cannot look closely enough to discern who, exactly, is there and what is our best course of action.
So what is the "light?" Truth, honesty, sincerity, justice, compassion - these are the things that light our discernment, these are things that Jesus taught we should use to "see" with. And how will you know who or what is there and how to engage them, if you can't see? How often do we react - or not take action at all - because we think we already know what's there, even though we haven't really "seen?"
Are you ready? Can you see?
Whatever-you-want-to-call-it-Ween (Week of October 30, 2011)
So how was your October 31st this year? Did you dress up and decorate and celebrate Halloween? Did you hand out candy and enjoy the children's costumes? Did you turn all the lights off and hide in the basement, grumbling about the commercialization of society?
Or did you celebrate "JesusWeen?"
That's right, "JesusWeen." Pastor Paul Ade of Calgary is promoting October 31st as JesusWeen, a "World Evangelism Day" when Christians would hand out bibles and other Christian gifts, rather than acknowledge Halloween and its various candy, gifts and paraphernalia. JesusWeen would be followed by JesusWin, a "Christ Celebration Week."
What a great idea: a day of evangelism followed by a week of celebrating Christ. That is a great idea - I really mean that - it is a great idea. We should do it every week.
Wait a minute. Aren't we supposed to do that every week?
Christians are called to proclaim the "Good News" of Jesus, live Christ-like lives, and celebrate God's presence in the world. Some might even argue that's the point of attending church weekly - a day of proclamation followed by the week of living it out.
So perhaps Pastor Paul is on to something here: a good reminder of what Christians are supposed to be about. And I thank him for that. But then he loses me.
In an interview, Pastor Paul says that Halloween is "an activity that doesn't have anything to do with Christians. And I think many Christian families are not knowledgeable to what it's all about. Halloween is not consistent with the Christian faith. Many people say they feel uncomfortable on that day. We think people should choose an alternative activity."
Pastor Paul is right that many Christians "are not knowledgable" about Halloween. But I think he's wrong about it not being Christian. It is Christian. Halloween is a contraction of All Hallow's Eve, the night before All Hallow's or what modern Christians (at least, after the 8th century) call All Saints Day, a day to recognize and celebrate the saints of history and of our daily lives. Yes, the early church intentionally set November 1st as All Saints because it was also the time of Samhain and other pagan festivals that celebrated the change of the seasons. That was the point, to supplant old ways. Sure, lots of that carries through, supported by our apparent fascination with the "unexplained," evil and death. There's always lots of demons, ghosts, goblins, witches and zombies on Halloween.
But if Pastor Paul wants to reclaim the Christian-ness of Halloween, I wonder if All Saints isn't a better place to start. The whole point of "saints" is to have real examples of real people who have lived their life as Jesus taught we should. You don't need "St." in front of your name, or be ancient, to be a saint. We all know people in our own lives, everyday, who are inspiring examples for us. Why not encourage that? After all, among the most popular costumes for children this year: Harry Potter, Captain America, Green Lantern, Smurfs, Elmo, Wolverine and Winnie-the-Pooh. I know, I'm on the line for some people with Harry Potter, what with the magic and all, but the point is, he fought for good, stood by his friends and tried to do the right thing. Don't we all want to be a little bit more like our heroes?
I don't object to Pastor Paul's idea. I'm not keen on the name or the timing, but it's a good reminder to evangelize. But let's remember the saints, too. And the chocolate.
Where's your wilderness? (Week of October 16, 2011)
It all depends on your perspective, I suppose.
Some people think of "wilderness" as a place to avoid, to be feared even. Others think of it as a place to seek out, to enjoy. But both feel that way because they understand "wilderness" as a place that's empty of things - like people. The wilderness is a place devoid of human development, untouched by human hands. For some, that means "pristine" and for others a "wasteland."
And it's not just a geographic place, but a metaphor for times in our lives. We go through wilderness periods, usually times of struggle away from people or things we love, away from the good life. Politicians are sometimes said to have returned from the wilderness. We're not really sure where that is, but it's certainly not here. Urbanites sometimes refer to rural communities as the wilderness. And the urban landscape can just as easily be a wilderness to rural people, too.
And that's what wilderness seems to be for us: not here. Somewhere that's not here, or now, and doesn't have all the stuff happening in it that's happening here. Or now.
But just because it's empty of this stuff, doesn't mean it's empty of stuff. Even the desert is full of stuff. Maybe you can't see it at first. Maybe you can't touch it or feel it right away, but it's there. In fact, we might want to consider if it's even possible to find somewhere where there's nothing.
That's why wilderness experiences can be so useful to us, though. Unburdened by all our busy-ness, no longer surrounded by the stuff we know, we have an opportunity to refocus, refresh, re-energize and re-engage ourselves. We can explore and experience something new because we have come to a place where most of the things we know, aren't.
But only if we are willing to take the opportunity and go there. And that depends on how we're willing to see things. The 20th century philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein saw it like this: when you stand where land and water meet, are you looking at the end of the land or the beginning of the ocean?
I was thinking about this because I think that's how Jesus saw his wilderness experience. Far from something to fear, Jesus saw an opportunity to examine himself and his relationship with God in a place that allowed him to focus on that. And he wasn't there alone, either. The Holy Spirit was with him. And, by the way, there were animals, and angels .. and the tempter, too. (Mark 1:12-13). I don't think Jesus was afraid. I think he welcomed the opportunity.
I also think that's how we might see our weekly sabbath experience. Whether you see the Sabbath as the Seventh Day, when God rested, or the First Day, when Jesus rose, (Saturday or Sunday, a subject for another time, perhaps), the point of having a sabbath is to have a day where you can experience a wilderness opportunity, empty of daily work and tasks, an opportunity to examine ourselves and our relationship with the world around us, and with God. A "sabbath" isn't just a weekend off - the "weekend" is really just a convention society created - it's a day to intentionally escape the ordinary, to enter into the wilderness with God, perhaps through worship and prayer with others, and to find renewal, maybe even new-ness there. Far from a time to do nothing, it's a time to do something. Something new.
This week, don't just take a day off and fill it with other stuff. Make some space for you and God. Make a wilderness of your own.
To assume or to know? (Week of September 25, 2011)
“And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching” (Hebrews 10:24-25).
For quite some time, scholars studying the Bible have been pretty sure that the Letter to the Hebrews attributed to Paul wasn’t really written by Paul at all. They’re not really sure who wrote it, but they’re pretty skeptical - for a variety of reasons - that it was actually Paul.
Not a big deal to me, but, personally, I think that when the early church leaders were putting together the Bible, they liked what was in this “book” and wanted to include it. Making it a letter from Paul gave it added weight, an additional significance because, if it was by Paul, then, hey, it must be important.
Really? So the value of the ideas is directly influenced by who said them? That’s too bad, because not everything that scholars think Paul actually wrote is golden. But that’s the case with everyone, isn’t it? One of the most quoted persons in history is William Shakespeare, but even Will wrote a few duds. Really.
Whoever did write what we now know as the Epistle to the Hebrews wrote some good stuff. I’m not sure that it needed “The Stamp of Paul” to make it credible. But then, I think we spend far too much time considering something as credible or valuable or meaningful simply because of who said it. Or not credible or valuable or meaningful. Sometimes we are far too quick to dismiss something because of who said it, rather than consider the value of the ideas or the words themselves.
I’m sometimes in awe, reading the paper or watching the news, to realize just how un-discerning we are. Sometimes people we don’t like have good ideas that get ignored or actively opposed just because of who said them, only to reappear later from someone we do like. Then they’re okay. All you have to do is look at politics to see that (American politics has recently set a new standard for this).
Sometimes we do it with church. It becomes less about what we believe and more about who said it, or what group or church or faith said it.
There is a movement in a number of countries called “Back to Church Sunday.” In North America, the suggested date is September 18, in the UK it’s September 25. I think it’s a great idea. I don’t know who started it, but it includes churches of all denominations. Some have adapted it to “Back to Church Day” for celebrations other than Sunday. (After all, the Bible doesn’t specify a day of the week for the sabbath.)
The point of it is that, according to a recent survey, 82% of people who don’t attend church would be open to, if someone personally asked them to go with them. Why? Because whoever wrote “The Epistle to the Hebrews” was right. People find their lives improved by meeting with others who are willing to support and encourage them. That’s what makes community. And whoever wrote Hebrews knew that.
Personally, I’d like to think everyday is an occasion to invite someone to church. Isn’t it worth finding out what really happens there? What people - all people - really think and really believe? Going to church shouldn’t just be about the “label,” the name or denomination on the door, it should be about the people, the community of faith that gathers there. Sure, it would be easy to make assumptions, but there’s only one real way to find out who and what they are - you have to visit with them and get to know them. Not just this church or that church. Any church.
So, maybe it’s not “back” to church for you, but a first time. All the more reason to find out for yourself, any day. You’re invited.
What's your burning bush? (Week of September 4, 2011)
Why a burning bush?
I wonder if Moses thought about that, too, on his way back down the mountain. Why would God appear to Moses as a burning bush?
That's part of the story of God calling Moses to lead the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt, to lead them to "the promised land." Moses is tending to some sheep, he sees a bush which appears to be on fire and "was not consumed," so he goes to investigate. He hears God telling him he is standing on holy ground. God goes on to tell Moses how he will save the people and where they're going and there is a little debate: Moses is reluctant, even fearful. Moses also wants to know the name by which he will call God and God tells him "I am who I am … the God of your ancestors."
Please read Exodus 3:1-15 for the complete story because there is so much in it: the call of Moses, where and how the Hebrews will go, who God is, lots of important information. This is, after all, a pivotal moment in the life of Moses and a key moment in the story of the Hebrew people.
All of which hinges on Moses turning aside from what he's doing to see the burning bush. So, why the bush?
There are a variety of interpretations, as you can imagine. The burning bush is an important biblical symbol, a key symbol of reformed churches since the 16th century. Originally adopted by the Huguenots (French Presbyterians), it's the symbol of most Presbyterian churches worldwide, including the Presbyterian Church of Canada.
The most obvious - and meaningful, I think - interpretations are these. That the fire burns but does not consume is symbolic of the power of God's spirit, that we may be consumed "with" it, but not "by" it. God empowers us (as it will Moses), but does not destroy us. Another is that God's power is a mystery beyond this world. It can, literally, violate the known physical laws of creation. And a more practical one is that the bush symbolizes the Hebrew people. Though they suffer through great trials (the fire), they will not be consumed because of God's love and support for them.
There are other interpretations, of course, from the mundane (it was a trick of the light reflecting off dew) to the obscure (one commentator suggests that Moses had consumed some hallucinogenic herbs … really).
I like the first one, myself. It connects with my understanding of the Spirit in our lives and I can appreciate that as a symbol. I think it also informs the rest of this passage - God is at work with Moses and his people, and with us today.
But that's not my point. That's all interesting and important and, as a story of "call," there is so much more to this story. But what I'm pondering today is a question that's a lot simpler.
Why did God need the burning bush to get Moses' attention in the first place?
Probably only God and Moses know the answer to that question, but it raises the real question for me: how does God get my attention? What does God have to do to get your attention?
Jesus learns - do we? (Week of August 16, 2011)
"Jesus left that place and went away to the district of Tyre and Sidon. Just then a Canaanite woman from that region came out and started shouting, 'Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon.' But he did not answer her at all. And his disciples came and urged him, saying, 'send her away, for she keeps shouting after us.' He answered, 'I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.' But she came and knelt before him, saying, 'Lord, help me.' He answered, 'It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.' She said, 'Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.' Then Jesus answered her, 'Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.' And her daughter was healed instantly." (Matthew 15:21-28, NRSV)
Excuse me? Where's Jesus and who is this in his place?
That's always my initial reaction to this story. Fortunately, some biblical scholars have saved us (no pun intended) with helpful and safe explanations of this apparent Jesus of Nazareth/Mr. Hyde behaviour (thanks to Dr. Delmer Chilton for the titles).
The "He Didn't Really Mean It" explanation: this is an acted out parable and Jesus was behaving this way on purpose to make his point.
The "He Didn't Really Say It" explanation: this is not an authentic quote of Jesus, but was added by the gospel writer or the early church to make a point about welcoming gentiles or "foreigners" into the church.
The "We Don't Really Get It" explanation: Jesus wasn't really calling her a dog, but using an ancient proverb about puppies (yes, the original literally translates as "young puppies") that we just don't understand.
I'm sure there's more, but I think you get the point. All of these are meaningful, but safe ways to explain Jesus' apparent un-Jesus-like behaviour.
But what if the story is true? What if Jesus was ignoring her? What if he did say something hurtful? What if, in this moment, Jesus behaved in exactly the opposite way to what he taught people was right? What if, just briefly, Jesus was all too human?
Perhaps this is a moment in which "the Word made flesh" is truly human, a moment of "human-ness" with which we can all readily identify. Busy, maybe, with other things on his mind, tired and a little short tempered, he responds as we might. But it's the next thing he does that is the example for us to follow: Jesus learns. Jesus is open to hearing the woman's words and seeing her faith and that moves him. It moves him - and us -to see what will be the defining truth of his ministry, that God's love is for all.
And let's not forget the real hero in this story. The "Canaanite woman" was not a Jew and she was a woman, two reasons why, in Jesus' day, she should not have spoken to him, let alone ask for something or, worse, respond to him the way she did. But she did.
Her love for her daughter and her faith in God (a faith that crosses cultural and religious boundaries to bring her to Jesus, by the way) compel her to act. It is her voice in this story that brings us the truth, the wisdom and the faith that should move us to act, to be prepared to challenge structure and tradition for what is right.
Sow your self widely (Week of July 24, 2011)
I only first met Lyle about four and a half years ago. That may not seem like enough time to be saying that I never heard anyone say an unkind or critical word about him. But I haven't. And it's a truth confirmed by people who've known Lyle a lot longer. After all he was born here, not more than a few kilometres from where he died, where he always was: with his family nearby.
I think that's because, if you met Lyle, you met Lyle. I think you always got who he was, no matter how you met or who you were.
It's a little like the story Jesus told about the man who owned the vineyard. At the beginning of the day, he went to the town and hired people to work for him. At lunchtime, he went and hired a few more and later in the afternoon a few more. And at the end of the day, he paid them all the same. It didn't matter if you met Lyle last week or twenty years ago or fifty. Lyle was always Lyle, a good man who always gave you who he really was, hard working, kind and loving.
We often spend a lot of time talking about what it takes to be a "good" person. At least, I know we sure seem to spend a lot of time in church talking about it. And about how important it is to understand that living a good life, living "right" with the world around us, isn't about behaving, it's about being. There's a difference. If it isn't part of your being, there is no truth in behaving. I think Lyle knew that, too.
And without the "being" and "doing," the talk is just, well, talk, isn't it? As Christians, we've always held Jesus as the example we try to live. Sorry, I should say I think we're supposed to hold Jesus as the example we try to live - we haven't been very successful at it sometimes. But that's why the earliest followers of Jesus were called People of the Way - they followed what Jesus taught and lived that way, sharing their living with everyone around them.
I think Lyle was a man of few words, for whom "doing" was more important. So Lyle reminds me of another story Jesus told, the one about the sower. This sower casts seed everywhere, and some of it lands on the path, and some on rock and some on shallow ground and some among thorns, and some on good ground where it thrives. The writer of Matthew's gospel has Jesus explain the parable: he, Jesus, is the sower, the Word is the seed and we are the various places where it lands.
Good story, just like that. But if we're to be like Jesus in how we live, aren't we also the sower? Okay, but it seems a little counterintuitive, especially if you're a good farmer, and Lyle was that - you would want to know where the best ground was and sow only there, watering and feeding as necessary, in order to get the best yield. You wouldn't waste good seed on ground that was inhospitable and unfriendly to it.
But it's not about farming, it's about living. To live as Jesus lived, to live well with all around us, is a call to live with "all" around us, the empty and the shallow, the rocks and the thorns, as well as the receptive and rewarding. Jesus didn't pick only the best and the most willing. Jesus gave of himself to all, living equally with all around him. I think Lyle did, too.
There are always those who are more dear and meaningful to us. We're human, after all. But we influence the world, we effect change in our community, and we show others who we truly are by showing everyone - everyone - the way. How else will the world be a better place? How else will it be whole?
Where’s the love? (Week of July 3, 2011)
I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there always seems to be a lot of talk about love in church. Yes, I confess that I roll my eyes, too, sometimes. It does seem like it’s one of the two most talked about things in church and it always seems like we’re saying the same thing: God loves you, Jesus loves you, love your neighbour. Good stuff. Okay.
That other thing we talk about the most, by the way, is money. At least, everyone thinks we talk about it a lot. I’m not so sure we do. I think it’s just that we talk about it so badly, that everyone thinks we talk about it a lot. The church needs money to keep its doors open, keep on doing good things and keep on paying their very gifted clergy. But when are the doors open and for whom? And what “good things” exactly? We seem to just assume that everyone knows what the church does and why more is always needed, so we talk very broadly and in generic terms. And who is this “everyone,” anyway? Shouldn’t we know people a little better?
Sometimes I think we handle love like that, too. We speak very genuinely and authoritatively and we talk about how God loves you, Jesus loves you, and you should love your neighbour (often by making a financial contribution to this church-based program or that one). But there’s more to love than that.
The Bible includes at least three kinds of love and, because the earliest translations of the Bible were in Greek, we often call them by their Greek names. There’s “filio” which means, literally brotherly – and sisterly – love. Philadelphia, for example, is referred to as “the city of brotherly love” because that’s literally what it means. There’s “eros,” which is physical, sensual love (this is where we get the word “erotic”). And last, there is the one we don’t hear quite so much about, “agapé.” This is the kind of love Jesus speaks of, the all encompassing unconditional love of God.
More often than not, it seems like the church – the institution – speaks about love in only two dimensions, with moral pronouncements on filio and eros (especially eros…) on the one hand and encouragement to just go love everybody, on the other, because that’s what Jesus says we should do.
Except it isn’t, exactly. Jesus is a lot more specific. What Jesus says is that we should do more than love at a distance, as if it were some warm fuzzy sweater we can put on. Jesus says we should love one another as he loved us, and while that’s most clearly stated in John’s gospel, it’s as readily enacted in the others.
Jesus engaged people, got to know them, shared with them. Jesus asked people to come and do as he did, to learn about what it means to love by getting to know people, especially the people we least wanted to know, and find out what love means to them. Jesus calls us to let go of those things that get in the way of relationship, like hate and anger, and to try to see things as others might and to do that with compassion and understanding. Filio and eros are spiritually empty without relationship. And yet, as much as the love of agapé is unconditional in itself, living it out is not: there is a cost to loving and that can only be found out in relationship. What does love mean to you?