I’m afraid that we human beings sometimes look at religion—and at life--as a bunch of rules to follow, as well. In the complex and baffling game of life, we want to know which cards to play when, which moves will give us extra lives, and which moves are powerful enough to destroy the monsters. We think that, by following and enforcing all the rules, we can more easily triumph. And then sometimes, after trying to play by all the rules, we get overwhelmed, shrug our shoulders in defeat, and refuse to play the convoluted “religion” game at all.
The Law, the Torah of Judaism, can appear to us Christians, especially, as a convoluted list of do’s and don'ts, just like that long list of Magic card rules. How many of you have tried to read through the Bible from the beginning, only to give up somewhere in the wearying complexities of Leviticus? We must remember, though, that all these laws are meant only to provide a path to right relationship with God and with one another. They aren’t so much to be seen like rules of a game, as they are a guide for living in God’s holy presence and for caring for one another in community.
In today’s Gospel, the lawyer seems to have forgotten the true purpose of the Law. He’s definitely trying to defeat Jesus, playing a game of winners and losers. He’s trying to test Jesus’ knowledge of the rules, wielding the 613 Laws of Judaism like a gamer would use the 905.6 Magic rules. Jesus’ brilliant answer, however, is meant to transform rules into relationships. Jesus shows him—and us—that the Law is really all about love.
Ah yes, we Episcopalians love to talk about love, don’t we? I wonder if really understand what kind of love we’re advocating, though. And given the news this week, I have to ask: What do we say about love, when violence fills the world? When people are murdered playing corn-hole, eating, and hanging out to bowl? When assault weapons are valued more than human lives? When politics is reduced to threats and insults? When innocent women and children in the Middle East (and around the world) live and die amidst exploding hatred and despair? Today, what do we say about love to young Bodie and Campbell, our newest members of Christ’s Body of compassion? How do we teach them to love in the midst of so much hate? How do we lift up love when it seems in such short supply?
I was drawn this week to the prayer that we will pray for Bodie and Campbell right after their baptism. We will pray that God’s Spirit might sustain them, that God might grant them, “the courage to will and to persevere.” I once baptized a baby who was crying so loudly during this prayer that I could barely be heard over his protests. As he flailed and arched his back, I remember thinking wryly to myself, “Well, this one doesn’t have any trouble with the willing or the persevering part!” But today, it’s this prayer that speaks to me of the Good News of love.
Christian love, you see, isn’t some soft, squishy feeling in pastel colors and rainbows. Love is a strong, death-defeating power. Love is the fuel of right relationship, the source of everlasting life. In our Gospel lesson, Jesus doesn’t just pull these two commandments to love out of thin air. The first one is from Deuteronomy 6:5 and the other from Leviticus 19:18. In neither of these passages is love tied to heart-warming emotion. Rather, both Deuteronomy and Leviticus tie love to commitment, to something that can be willed.
Deuteronomy 6:5 is part of the shema, the important creed recited morning and evening by devout Jews. Jesus and his listeners would have recognized it right away: “Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One. Blessed be the name of the glory of his kingdom forever and ever. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might.” This is the verse that God’s people must place on their doorposts and recite to their children and bind on hand and forehead. The love that God is asking here from the people of Israel is an unwavering commitment to choose God above all other gods and to walk daily in God’s ways. Put in human terms, it is like the commitment to remain faithful to a spouse, both when we feel close and head over heels in love … and in the times when we wonder what we see in them at all. It’s a love that wills and perseveres.
In the book that we’re reading in adult formation, How We Learn to Be Brave, author Mariann Budde quotes a story originally told by preacher Peter Gomes. Gomes recounts the true story of American prisoners in a Japanese Prisoner of War camp in World War II. When these men were first captured, they turned to their Christian faith to keep them going. They read their Bibles, sang hymns, and prayed aloud together all the time. They hoped that God would reward them by sending someone to rescue them, or at least by giving them strength. Time went by, though, and none of those things happened. Life in the prison camp was dismal and hard, and the men began to get sick and die one after the other. The group gave up on God and quit their singing and praying.
But they continued to care for the needs of their fellow prisoners. They protected one another, sacrificed for one another, loved one another. As they did this, day after day, through the hardship, they began to notice God’s presence mysteriously among them. They discovered, writes Gomes, “’that faith was not what you believed but what you did for others when it seemed you could do nothing at all.’” Faith in God returned to them as the result of their love for one another, and as they felt God with them in that love, their capacity to love grew even greater.[1]
It works this way in our world, too, when we’re caught in a web of pain and violence. It’s amazing what blessings can be found in a strong-willed, persevering commitment to small acts of justice, compassion, and self-giving love. Budde tells one of my favorite stories by Rachel Remen in her book, as well. When Rachel was five, her beloved grandfather gave her a cup of dirt and told her to put a little bit of water on it every day. He hinted that something special might happen if she did. Rachel watered her dirt cup for awhile, but she soon grew tired of this fruitless task. She almost quit. But because she loved and respected her grandfather, she kept at it. When some little green leaves started poking out of the soil, little Rachel was delighted. She ran to her grandfather to tell him about this miracle. He explained to her that “life is everywhere, and blessings are everywhere, hidden in the most … unlikely places.
‘And all it needs is water, Grandpa?’ Rachel asked. ‘No,’ he said ‘All it needs is your faithfulness.’”[2]
The world doesn’t need more rules, more judgment, more intricate games with cheat-codes, weapons, winners and losers. The world needs more faithful, persistent compassion. May Bodie and Campbell and each one of us grow to discover God in beloved community, as we will and persevere, persistently pouring the mighty water of love in all the barren places.
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