A Sermon from Falmouth Congregational Church…

A sermon offered by The Rev. Ian F. “Jack” Steeves in the public worship service of the Falmouth Congregational Church United Church of Christ in Falmouth, Maine on Fifth Sunday of Easter, May 2, 2010.  The Scripture reading was John 13:31-35. 

“I give you a new commandment, that you love one another” (John 13:34).

“No Exceptions Permitted”

Last Monday morning, I read the assigned Gospel passage and thought a wee bit. No, I found myself thinking, more and more. At first, the message was very clear. But as the thinking went on, I became not so sure. I found myself wrestling with the passage and wrestling with the whole idea of love. I wondered if the disciples knew what Jesus was talking about. I wondered if John’s congregation of the late 1st century knew what Jesus was talking about. I wondered if I knew what he was talking about. Right now, I am wondering if you know what Jesus was talking about.

Love is a small, four-letter word, and like other small, four-letter words (hate, fear, work, life), it is a powerful word. Yet, maybe, love is the hardest to understand. Jesus says, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another.”

In that we are alone, just you and me, I will admit the commandment sounds absurd, if not impossible. How can anyone command love?

I can hear my mother’s voice ordering my little brother (the only person I have ever bitten and he deserved it) and me to “love one another” because God had given us to each other as brothers. Right! We glared at each other and marveled at her naïveté. The very idea of loving somebody just because we were supposed to boggled our childish minds. Right!

The idea is still mind-boggling, if we believe that love has anything to do with how we feel. We have cheapened “love” by using the word too freely. We have confused the sentimentality of an electronic, greeting card from Blue Mountain or Hallmark with the deep, dark mystery of love that is manifested for us in the incarnate Christ.

Love can be warm, enfolding, and sheltering. Love can feel good, very good. But love can also be strong and difficult. It can be a nearly impossible challenge. To borrow a once popular phrase, it can, indeed, be ‘tough love.’ Or, love is tough!

The questions raised are apparent. What does it mean to love one another on command? What does it mean to love one another when we are tired, annoyed or angry? When we simply do not feel loving or lovable? And what does it mean to love one another as Christ loves us – to love with any open hand without wanting anything in return, to love in contemplative appreciation of “the other?”

As we mature as persons, we become aware that there are wrong kinds of love, and false loves that smother, cripple and devour people. As we become more conscious of our own selfish or impure motives, we talk about ‘co-dependence’ and ‘enabling.’  Our Lord and Savior is not commanding or even suggesting that we become doormats, to let ourselves be hooked into unhealthy alliances and manipulative entanglements in the name of love or any thing else.

It is important, it is necessary, to look at the context of this passage. The setting is the Upper Room on the first Maundy Thursday. Jesus has gathered with his disciples for the last meal together. He has taken the role of servant for himself, knelt before them and washed their feet. He has foretold his betrayal, and Judas has left the meal. The chapter ends with Peter’s famous vow that he will lay down his life for his teacher, and Jesus’ equally famous response: “The cock will not crow until you have denied me three times.”

Jesus’ words of love are embedded in this richly dramatic scene, a scene in which the human limitations of the disciples are made clear, so clear, that we need not be smug about it. The command to love is not for the spiritual elite, but for the very ordinary men and women gathered in the room with him. So what does it mean to “love another?”

If we follow Jesus’ teaching and example, we will first accept the role of servant, the one who kneels on the floor to wash the dusty feet of another. We will also assume the role of the disciple who lets himself or herself be cared for.

Good servants are a vanishing breed: they are most often found only in British-made-for-television movies on Public Television. No one thinks about them as long as they perform their duties capably and, if possible, silently. They do the work that needs to be done, the work that often no one else wants to do. There is no glory in kneeling on a hard floor or cradling a dirty foot. In earthly terms, there is little, if any, reward.

As people who love, we must be prepared to live with our own imperfections. We know that we will inevitably fall short and that, in great ways and small, we will join the company of the well intentioned who proffer their love, then shrink from the cost of love. Peter was no doubt sincere in his declaration of love: “I will lay down my life for you.” His love paled before the very real threat of the ensuing night and early morning.

We are not standing near a fire in the high priest’s dooryard. More important for us: if we love one another as Jesus loves us (and note the present tense), we must put aside our grudges, hurts, and righteous indignation. There will be no loving with our fingers crossed.

So often in the church we substitute being nice, or trying to be nice, to one another in place of truly loving one another. Love is ever a risky business.

Can I be expected to love someone who has harmed me? Or who does not wish me well? Or who seems hopelessly wrong-headed on matters, both great and small?

Am I not allowed one or two holdouts, persons whom I judge unworthy of my love?

“No exceptions are permitted!” There are no loopholes in John, chapter 13. It demands that we let go of our pet hates, our indifference, and our disinterest. Jesus says, “By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

Like many of you, I carry a small plastic rectangle with my picture on it. It is a Maine Driver’s license. The card gives me access and admission to many things; without it, it is only with the greatest difficulty that I can identify myself to the authorities, or to a bank teller, or a store associate.

As Christians, we identify ourselves too. We put crosses on our buildings and stationary. We wear crosses on chains around our necks. Yet according to Jesus, we do not need any of these emblems. We have a permanent, universally valid ID – we can be spotted readily and anywhere as his people if we love one another. It is that simple, that difficult, and that necessary.

Christian love teaches us that every last person is a son or daughter of God, deserving dignity and opportunity and that all destroys dignity and denies opportunity must be vigorously opposed by the disciples of Jesus the Christ.