The Park Road Pulpit

My old saints uniformly attributed their formidable love for neighbor to their prior love for God. Without that first love, they claimed, no heroism or longevity in the service of others is possible. How could Mother Teresa lift the dead from Calcutta’s streets day after day, year after year, if not for love of God? But we know that this claim, although edifying, is not really true. Atheists routinely do the same, humbling believers like me who do much less. We must love our neighbor if we say we love God; but experience teaches that the reverse is not necessarily so. [Edwin] Vacek says that the Christian believer is distinguishable from the atheist in this alone: one loves God, the other doesn’t. But if the practical outcome is the same, why bother loving God? What’s it worth to keep the great commandment? There’s a way to find out. — J. Mary Luti[1]

With the dawn of self-consciousness, in the evolution of our ancient ancestors, homo sapiens developed the mental and emotional capacity to stand apart from themselves and reflect inwardly, seeking to know what it means to be human. The challenge to “know thyself” had begun.[2] (I suppose we cannot know for certain that a dog shading himself from the heat of an August summer is not actually considering the meaning of his own “dogness,” or that the bellowing of cattle is not some deep, theological discussion, between pastures, on the true meaning of “bovinity,” but it is assumed that human beings, alone of all of God’s creatures, have been endowed with this capacity.) It is the bane and blessing of our existence as the sometimes-called “crown of 8/God’s creation.”[3] I say this because, along with the awareness of self, human beings (again, alone?) also developed a certain awareness of an otherness in this world. From the dawning of the same moment of self-consciousness there arose also the dawning of a God-consciousness. Humans came to believe that there was a source, a force, a spirit, a power, a connectedness, a mystery to their existence which gave meaning and purpose beyond our base animal instincts and beyond our most complex empirical discoveries. And we have been confounded and conflicted about it ever since.

Our ancient ancestors in faith began their joyful struggle with this perceived divine presence when Abram, the legendary Father of the Faith, heard and responded to the “voice of God”… “go from this place to a land that I will show you… and I will make of you a great nation.”[4] From this mystical invitation, the ancient Hebrews began sojourning with their God. They traveled from nowhere to somewhere, and they credited God with their birth to life from the barrenness of a laughing, old (post-menopausal) woman. They knew the realities of a harsh, nomadic life and the oppression of a brutal slavery, and they praised God for their physical deliverance and prosperity. They failed more often than they succeeded, were adulterous in relationships (especially with God) more often than they were faithful, and they worshiped God for the graces of forgiveness, mercy, and above all, for God’s steadfast love.

But in a wandering wilderness of frustration-to-freedom, they came to believe that their relationship with this living “God who is”[5] was to be known and experienced through a series of laws. So, Moses descended from God’s presence on the mountain and brought with him “God’s rules”[6] for their life together. In that moment they traded a faith of wandering for a religion of obedience, carved in stone. The faith that had carried them on a journey from “nowhere” in the always direction of “somewhere” was replaced with a religion of ten simple do’s and don’t’s.

Of course, nothing is ever simple, as all “keepers of the rules” know so well, and in interpretation and extrapolation, explanation and justification, Ten Living Commandments became 613 rules for… well, for everything. (Most of which had little to do with really living.) The ancient rabbis understood that of these 613 developed rules, there were “248 positive commands, corresponding to the number of parts of the body; [and] 365 negative commands, corresponding to the days of the year.”[7] Thus, with every bodily movement of every living day our religious ancestors, who had once accepted an invitation walk with God, now found themselves crippled by the bondage of a life of just living by the rules.

After a summer of extolling the still-contemporary virtues of the Ten Words, after a series of sermons encouraging a modern, discerning congregation to find that there is a “Power of Ten in a Binary World,”[8] we must pause, however, to test the honesty of our inquiry, and to reflect on our own life. In terms of our own relationship with the Source of life’s mystery and meaning, is it Faith? or Fear?

Mary Luti, who is a former Associate Dean at Andover Newton Theological School begins an essay entitled, “Keeping the Great Commandment,”with a memory from her childhood.

‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart,’ our priest droned… He would have said it again, but I jumped in: ‘How can I love someone I can’t see?’ The other kids sat up… I always tried to rattle him but for once I wasn’t showing off.”[9]

In Matthew’s version of today’s text, a lawyer, sounding not unlike some smart-alec kid in a catechism class, comes to Jesus trying to entrap him. The increasing conflict between Jesus and the religious leaders of his day is part of the ongoing plot in Matthew’s telling of Jesus’ demise. “What is the greatest commandment?” In Jesus’ reply to this legalist, ironically, surprisingly, (but) naturally for Jesus, he does not give the man what he expects. He names neither one of the Ten Commandments, nor any of their 613 corollaries. Instead, Jesus calls simple love the greatest commandment. Love God. Love your neighbor. Everything hinges on love.

In that moment Jesus sent this man, and all who follow after him, daring to ask the question, wandering again, awash in a sea of freedom from the rules.

Isaac Newton said, “There are only two laws in the universe: Gravity and The Golden Rule.”

Jesus said, and says to us, still, there is only one commandment: Love God. And love your neighbor.

There are two obvious observations that we might make from Jesus’ remarks. First, and most obvious, is that though the lawyer asks for a “one command” response, Jesus gives him a “two command” answer. Only in Matthew’s gospel do we find Jesus using a word equating the two laws. Jesus says that the second law is “like” the first. “This does not mean merely that it is similar, but that it is of equal importance and inseparable from the first.”[10]

No simple answer will ever be sufficient in our understanding of God. Love always gives us more. Love always demands more of us, than we can expect.

Second, we observe that this greatest commandment of Jesus is no “commandment” at all. Though every Jew would have known the scripture he quoted from Deuteronomy 6 (Jews recited the “Shema” each day), it was neither part of the Ten Commandments, nor the extended religious laws.

No rule. No set of rules. Nor perfection in keeping them will make us right or will give us peace with God. Only love can do that.

The greatest commandment pushes us beyond any legalism, and the greatest answer to that great question pushes us beyond the simple, the trite, the religiously expected lifetime of “following the lines.”[11] The greatest commandment is no rule. The greatest commandment is love.

I believe it is so. But simply believing this does not make faith and practice simple, because love for God is love for One who cannot be seen. (So how can we truly express that kind of love?) It is love in gratitude for happenings in our lives, the reasons for which cannot be proven. (So is the result really evidence of God?) It is love for grace, which cannot be measured. (So is it God, or just a streak of good luck?)

As I have been opened to a wider view of liberating love, which I believe is God’s life among us, I have come, strangely, to wonder whether “loving God” is something that we can do at all. Maybe “loving God” should not be the goal of a truly Christian life.

In our study of the commandments, the first and second commands informed my growing uneasiness with the Christian trivialization of “worshiping” or “loving” God. If we are to revere God, alone, to create no idols for God, then we must acknowledge that in some sense, every mental understanding of God is a limitation of God, an “image” of God, in my own making. Is my supposed love for God, then, love for “the God who is,” or just love for my own understanding of that God? Is it just a reinforcement of my own views and beliefs, about my own little world and my own little domesticated god?

Maybe Buddhists and Hindus, Jews and Muslims, deists and atheists, alike, all have something to teach us about this God who has been our dwelling place in all generations.[12] And maybe, as Christians, we should seek to understand more than to be understood. To ask more than to answer. To be disciples more than to make disciples. To follow. To learn. To live. To love.

How do we “love God” who cannot be seen? I don’t know. I don’t even know that it is honestly possible. I think that it is clear that in our human history, in more cases than not, efforts to love God have proven more egocentric than edifying. More scarring to others than sacrificial of self. More fear-filled than freeing.

But seeking God, knowing God, “loving God” is, I believe, at the crux of what it means to be human, to live, bane and blessing, in our unique matrix of self-and-God-consciousness. So, clearly, we must continue to ask with the lawyer, what does it mean to be obedient to that Mystery that calls us from within and from beyond?

I am convinced that this love must begin in deep, full humility, and when it does, it will end with the “unmotivated, unmanipulated, unconditional, unlimited”[13] practical love which is our to know through the life and death of Jesus Christ. It is love, which, alongside secular and civic groups reaches out in simple deeds and kind words. Love, which, at work alongside Buddhists, Muslims, Hindus and Jews, feeds the hungry, clothes the naked, and visits the sick. Love, which, alongside even the atheist continues to incarnate God in this world.[14]

I believe that God’s Love is not limited by our understanding. That God’s Grace is not silenced by our language for God. That God’s Mercy is not restricted by nationality or name or nobility. That God’s Righteousness is not reserved by religion.

The question that matters crucially for our difficult and divisive day is, will our love limited by those very things?

As Mary Luti reminds us, there is a way to find out -- and love will show the way.

NOTE: The following Prayer of Confession, used in the service, might also give insight into the direction of the sermon – our love for God must be unmotivated, self-less, or it cannot be true love.

Forgive us, O God, when our love for you is no more than fear of some divine punishment. Forgive us, O God, when our love for you is no more than selfish desire for some divine favor. In your grace, O God, free us to live for the sake of life. (Because life is it’s own reason.) To hope for the sake of hope. (Because hope is it’s own purpose.) To love for the sake of love. (Because love is always enough.) For faith, hope and love abide...and the greatest of these is love. Amen.

[1] J. Mary Luti, “The Christian Century,” March 22-29, 351. This quotation was used in the order of service as an opening Meditation and is crucial in understanding the focus of the sermon.

[2] Socrates.

[3] This phrase has been used to characterize humanity. It is often assumed, given the human “superiority” over the rest of creation, that the command in Genesis to “have dominion” over the rest of creation, gives humans the right to use and abuse, for our good, the rest of creation, both animate and inanimate. I do not assume such a superiority. Though human “intelligence” may supercedes that of the rest of creation, our life-form is but one in the great diversity and mystery of God’s creative genius. Whatever intelligence we do possess should be used in the service of “tilling and keeping” the creation (another phrase used within the creation narrative).

[4] Genesis 12.1.

[5] See “A Half Baked God,” my sermon from the second commandment.

[6] I have used quotation marks here to indicate my understanding that all of scripture is humanly conceived. All of “God’s words” in the scripture are God’s words as understood by the writer. The writers were inspired, indeed, but in the same way that believers are inspired today. (e still say, “God told me…”)The commandments were, I believe, the best understanding of the people at the time, of what God desired for them in relationship, and as our sermon series indicated, the people had great understanding. (We would do well if we were even more attentive to the Ten Words.) But I do not believe that the Ten Commandments are literally the words of God.

[7] M. Eugene Boring, The New Interpreter’s Bible, “Matthew,” 424.

[8] See the introduction to our sermon series, “The Power of Ten in a Binary World.”

[9] Luti, 348.

[10] Boring, 426.

[11] This phrase is taken from a song by David Wilcox’s entitled, “Kitchen Blue.”

[12] Psalm 90.1

[13] Boring, 425.

[14] I am alluding here to the quotation from Edwin Vacek (from the opening meditation). As I wrote the paragraph, two progressions developed. First, works from the lesser to the greater (kind deeds… to feeding the hungry… to incarnating God). And, simultaneously, a progression of those whom Christians might not think of as being used by God (secular organizations… to other religions… to atheists). The extremes of these two progressions collided as the works of “atheists” came together with “incarnating God” – an obvious allusion to the person of Jesus Christ. I hesitated here – could I actually suggest that an atheist might actually incarnate God’s presence in the world, and though it might sound rather heretical, I believe to be true, and the crux of today’s confusing sermon. If God can, and does, use the work of those who do not even claim to believe in God, what is at stake for those of us who claim to be direct followers of God in Jesus Christ? What does God have to do with it, after all? The answer can only be known/experienced personally, individually, existentially in the life of the believer.