Sermon, Sun 17 March: Love one another

A blending today of Lent 1 and 2, burying more 'alleluias' and thinking of Jesus' new commandment to love one another, as we begin a series on 'the four loves' during Lent.
We also remembered Christchurch during our time of worship.

READINGS: Proverbs 3:3-4; John 13: 31-38

SERMON
Let’s pray: May the words of my mouth and the thoughts of all our hearts, be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our strength and our Redeemer. Amen.

Our gospel passage finds us in an odd place so early into the time of Lent:
normally, we’d find ourselves in the wilderness with Jesus, just after his baptism – there to stay and pray for 40 days.
Then, bit by bit over the weeks, we’d steadily head toward Jerusalem.
Instead, this morning we find ourselves peeking
in on Jesus and the disciples already in Jerusalem,
and, on the night when he was betrayed.
It’s the Last Supper.

Just before our passage Jesus has washed his disciples’ feet
taking on the role of a servant to them, much to their confusion.
It’s an act of service, and an act of self-giving love.
It’s a demonstration of love in action –
of love for others,
of being prepared to let go of any advantage:
in this case, Jesus has authority over the disciples as their teacher, their Rabbi.
When called by him,
they had placed their lives in his hands,
had agreed to follow him,
to be taught by him,
to serve him as needed,
and, in washing their feet, Jesus has done an odd, a new thing:
overturned an understanding of power.
It’s not about lording it over people:
it’s about care, concern,
of responsibility shown through service.
It’s about love.
And, having washed their feet, he instructs them to ‘do as I have done.’

Now, remember, one popular understanding of the Messiah was that
he would come in power – would come as a mighty warrior
to destroy the Romans and restore the greatness of Israel.
And here is one, who some think just might be the Messiah
washing dusty feet;
waiting on them as a servant.
A new way.
A way, as we’ve seen elsewhere with some responses to Jesus,
that’s not always well received:
Jesus, the Living Bread who’s not necessarily seen as easily palatable.

It’s on this last night together,
as they eat –
as Jesus creates a new meal with them so that they will remember him
every time they eat and drink together when he’s no longer physically present...
it’s on this last night,
when Judas slinks out into the night and into the darkness of betrayal,
that Jesus distils his teaching right down to the marrow:
‘A new commandment I give you:
love one another.
As I have loved you, 
so you must love one another.
Love is what will mark you out as my followers.’
All, in the end, is about love.
Simple.

Well, we’d like it to be, wouldn’t we?
Jesus’ teaching seems to be less about rules and more about healthy relationships:
with God
and with each other –
immediate neighbours such as family,
or the folk next door,
or around about you and even broader –
to all human beings:
each is neighbour to the other.
‘Love one another’ –
not just fellow followers of the Way,
but finding ways to love the whole of humanity.

Remember the Pharisees and the Teachers of the Law  who Jesus had run-in’s with?
The ones who really didn’t take to the content of his teaching:
who didn’t like his particular innovations?
Well, let’s be frank, it’s easy to have some sympathy with them:
Following rules, no matter how many,
no matter how seemingly pernickety,
no matter how seemingly tiresome,
is, at least, straightforward.
Love is in a different category altogether: 
it’s not about rules but about relationship. 
It’s an orientation of the heart 
and not merely an act of will. 
Jesus, in other words, quite deliberately sets 
out as his supreme commandment 
...something which cannot be commanded, 
but only given freely with no guarantee of return.’
                                                       [from Spill the Beans]
‘Freely given’.
Given.
Letting go.
Letting love be the goal.
When you’ve got a rule book,
you’ve got something to measure life and behaviour by.
When the rules in the book end up being boiled down to one word ‘love’
how do you measure that?
How do you ever know you’ve done enough?
Well, I think the thing is to stop getting caught up in the act of actually measuring:
just... love.
Love without measure.
But again, love freely given?
Letting go -
of your need for such things such as self-importance;
power; even holding grudges...
well, that's hard; we like to feel important.
And, actually, we are:
we’re God’s beloved – that’s more than enough.
It's what we ground ourselves in.
When our feathers get ruffled over some imagined slight that we
feel has been designed to knock us down a peg or two, we’ve a few options –
we can knock the other person down to size,
or, knowing ourselves beloved of God,
we can rest in that, and laugh the other off.
As people who are loved, so in turn, that love allows us to let go of anger, of unforgiveness,
and to move on and live.
Love one another – even the ones who annoy you.
Love ... and let go.
Love... and let God.

Over the next four weeks, we’ll be learning God’s language of love.
Exploring four words for love that are found in the New Testament.
We have:
‘Eros’ – romantic love;
‘Philia’ – love for your fellow human beings;
‘Storge’ – love for family and friends
and ‘Agape’ – unconditional, self-giving love.
This last, the kind that Jesus demonstrates when turning his face
to Jerusalem, and certain death, but doing it anyway.
Regardless of the different ways to love – to express love –
in the end, Jesus’ command to us is still the same.
In whichever mode, we are to ‘love one another’.
I like how the writer of Proverbs thinks about love:
‘Let love and faithfulness never leave you;
bind them around your neck,
write them on the tablet of your heart.’

Love: written on the heart –
love... one another...
what does it look like, this kind of love?
In the course of this past week alone,
it’s found in a story told of the old workshed,
where a dad quietly and practically got on with the business of
mending his daughter’s favourite toy, or broken table,
without making any kind of fuss;
it’s found in conversations between different groups of people,
seeking to really listen and to learn, and to work alongside one another –
putting privileges and power aside, along with assumptions...for the common good:
the committee meeting I was at in Inverness between
the Church of Scotland and the Scottish Episcopal Church;
it’s found in an ordinary Friday lunch time,
on an ordinary road in Christchurch when,
suddenly caught up in the midst of bullets flying,
a 66 year old woman gets out of her car to pull a wounded man out of the line of fire,
and, with another ordinary Christchurch man,
uses her hands to keep pressure on a bleeding wound and so save a life;
it’s found outside a mosque in Manchester,
where a grandpa called Andrew, a practising Christian,
stands by the gate with a poster proclaiming:
"You are my friends. I will keep watch while you pray" as a response
of solidarity to his known and unknown Muslim neighbours
stunned by the events so far away in Christchurch....

We don’t need to treat the Bible as some kind of rule book,
where, if we get it wrong, we’re doomed.
Boiled down to the marrow,
the Bible is the story of God’s desire for a relationship with human beings
and they with him;
and the story of humans relating to one another.
The story of love.
To find God’s favour,
don’t just read the rules:
write love on your heart.
Let love be as natural to you as breathing.

Jesus’ reminds us, with this ‘new’ commandment
that the rules were never meant to be a rigid straitjacket, pinning us down –
they were meant to help.
So, he goes back to basics:
the rule to love.
It’s blurry, sometimes messy, not easily measured.
We’ll get it wrong time and time again...
but if we keep at it,
and keep loving,
and remember that we are loving because we ourselves
already have God’s favour,
that we are God’s beloved,
then, even amid the mistakes we’ll make,
there will also be goodness and beauty,
kindness and compassion –
because they are the fruit of love.

Let’s pray:
Can it be that easy, Jesus?
Can it be that hard?
That what You want for us 
is just to love
and be loved?
Is it possible that even those 
who have tried the hardest,
signed on the dotted line,
sat for years in classes
and strained their eyes from reading,
dressed in all the most appropriate garments,
and spoken with only the most measured words…
that these can miss You?

How can it be when those who have hardly 
tried at all,
who have damaged themselves 
and others so much,
that,... in the end they have no where else to turn
but to throw themselves on Your grace…
how can it be that these 
are the ones You search out?

How do we make sense of this, Jesus?
How do we love so scandalously, so inclusively?
How do we allow ourselves to be loved enough,
that all our hard and sharp edges
grow soft and round?

Help us to find the humility and courage,
the boldness and grace,
that in our loving and being loved,
we may somehow ignite our world with 
a compassion so fierce
that violence and abuse,
rejection and condemnation,
neglect and greed
become unthinkable. 
Lord Jesus, teach us anew 
the new commandment.
Teach us to love. Amen.
               [prayer from Spill the Beans]