"Beloved, let us love" Sermon for Sunday 2 May 2021
Sermon for
Sunday 2 May 2021
Lutheran
Church of the Redeemer, Jerusalem
The Rev.
Carrie Ballenger
Every day, a Facebook group called “Daily Update on
Jesus of Nazareth’s Health Condition” posts this simple message: “He’s alive.”
When I first saw this reposted by a friend, sometime last
year during the beginning of the pandemic, I thought: What is this nonsense? Why
would anyone spend time writing something like that? Every. Single. Day! But
then I thought: Honestly, this is way better than what I mostly see on social
media, including the nonsense I post myself. So I clicked “follow” so I would
see it again.
And now I’ve been seeing these daily updates on the
health status of Jesus of Nazareth for over a year, and today I have a
completely different attitude about them. I even look forward to seeing those
words: He’s alive! And the next day: He’s alive. And the next day: He’s alive! Honestly,
now I look forward to seeing that simple message because every day is a day
when we need to be reminded that Christ is risen, death does not have the final
word, and yes, Jesus is alive!
Alleluia, Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed,
Alleluia.
Friends, all of the days are days when we need to be
reminded “He’s alive” because it can seem that all our days are ruled by the
power of death. Whether it’s cancer or COVID, violence and riots in the Old
City, or the awful tragedy just the other day at Mt. Meron during a religious celebration,
all too often death dominates the news cycle, our conversations, and our
thoughts.
When the tomb of death is so visible and present among
us, Easter and the joy of the Resurrection can seem very long ago and very far
away.
And this is one reason it’s so important to gather as
a community and to turn again to Holy Scripture, the Word of life. We read the
scriptures and hear the old, old story because we need to hear from God. However,
we also need to hear from our ancestors in the faith. We need to understand how
they contended with the sorrows of the world. We want to know how they kept
their faith in the power of life and love over death and indifference. This is
why, during the season of Easter, the first reading is always from the Acts of
the Apostles—the account of the first Christians and the community they built
after the Resurrection of Jesus.
Today, one of the readings we heard is from 1 John
chapter 4. Scholars disagree about the author of this text, but it may have
been John, called the “beloved disciple.” However, even the identity of the
“beloved disciple” is in question. Some think the beloved disciple was John the
Apostle, or perhaps Lazarus, or another unknown disciple, or (my favorite
theory) it could even have been Mary Magdalene!
In any case, whoever the author is, we know that 1
John was written very early, before the end of the 1st century, and it
was addressing a struggling faith community. The book deals with how believers
are to handle differences in belief, or prayer, or conduct within a community. Should
those who are different be cast out? Should we cast stones at those with whom
we disagree?
The author of 1 John says: Beloved, let us love one
another. Let us love, because love is from God.
Whenever I read this passage, I imagine myself at a
church council meeting, listening to church members discussing a contentious
issue. They’ve debated, they’ve held town hall meetings, they’ve surveyed the
congregation, they’ve discussed things to death, they’ve maybe even prayed
about it! And they still can’t come to an agreement. And then someone in the
group says, out of the blue, “Hey, how about we try…love?”
Jesus teaches us that love is always the path to take,
whether we’re talking about the church budget, or a dispute with a neighbor, or
high-level negotiations between nations. Love is always the answer.
Love is always the answer, but it’s not always the
easy answer. There are many reasons for this. Some people are just more
difficult to love, to be honest! I don’t really feel like loving people who
treat me badly, who take away my freedoms, who hurt me or hate me.
Also, sometimes it’s difficult to know what love looks
like. What form should it take? Is it more loving to confront someone you know
needs to find help for an addiction or a mental health issue, or is it more
loving to be the soft place for them to land during their time of struggle?
Some of us have grown up with a deficiency of love,
and now we are malnourished. For this reason we might hoard love, keeping it to
ourselves, or we might find it difficult to share love with others. We might
even lash out and hurt others from our own pain.
But it seems to me that the biggest obstacle to living
out God’s love in our own lives is fear, and a particular kind of fear at that.
This is the fear that maybe I am not loved. Maybe I am not lovable.
“God is love”, but God probably doesn’t love all the
parts of me.
“God’s love was revealed among us in this way: God
sent his only Son into the world so that we might live through him” but that
Good News probably doesn’t apply to me. It probably doesn’t apply to me because
I haven’t been to church in a year, I’ve been divorced, I’m not sure I believe
anymore, I’m living with my boyfriend, I cheated on my exam, I told a lie…this
list could go on forever.
The fear that we are not loved or lovable is painful
enough for ourselves, but it can sometimes become the ugly root of much pain
for others. Fear keeps us turned inward, trying to get it right, trying to be
“lovable.” Both St. Augustine and Martin Luther said this is the definition of
sin: “homo incurvatus inse”, or “humanity turned in on itself.” When our focus is inward, we are unable to see
the needs of others. We are unable to hear the stories of others. We’re unable
to handle any kind of difference in others, because difference would be a distraction
and threat to our all-consuming project of protecting, preserving, and promoting
ourselves.
In this state, we are unable to love. And so we cast
people out. Or we cast stones. Or we build walls. Or we start a war. Or we
start a new church, with only those who agree with us.
And still, the Word of God insists: “Beloved, let us
love one another, because love is from God.”
It’s that last bit that is important. Love is from
God. It doesn’t originate in us. If it were up to us, we would spend our whole
lives navel-gazing, looking inward taking care of our own, surrounding
ourselves with those who agree with us all the time.
But love is from God. We love because God first loved
us. Love is possible because we have been filled with love from the moment God
breathed into dust and created us. Love is possible because God didn’t abandon
humanity when we forgot that we were made of love, but sent Jesus to love us
all the way to the cross. Love is possible because today, even in our sometimes
messy awfulness, the Holy Spirit fills us with the breath of love and turns us
outward, always provoking us to love more, love better, love foolishly and
extravagantly.
Episcopal priest William Countryman wrote:
“God’s love is not conditional on anything. It is
expressed in forgiveness. You can ignore or oppose God, if you really want to.
It will probably do you no great good, but it won’t deprive you of God’s love,
either. God’s love has already taken any possible wrong or error or failure on
your part into account. You are loved anyway. You have been all along. You will
be all along.
It does make a difference, though, when you begin to
suspect, however doubtingly and uncertainly, that this good news is true. It
makes a difference not in God’s love, but in your awareness of yourself and your
world.”
(William Countryman, “The Truth about Love: Re-introducing
the Good News, 1993)
Hear that again: It makes a difference when you know
the Good News to be true. When you know that you are loved and lovable, just as
you are, it makes a difference. It makes a difference, not only for you but for
others—because if you are standing firm on a foundation of love, there’s no
need to fear. There’s no need to fear difference. There’s no need to fear the
other. There’s no need to build walls or start wars or cast stones, because perfect
love casts out fear. Thanks be to God!
This week I was blessed to help a Palestinian friend
edit a paper he was writing in English. With his permission, I want to share
this story with you, because to me it beautifully embodies the difference that knowing
we are loved, knowing we are forgiven, and knowing we belong, can make in the
way we interact with our neighbors.
My friend writes:
“One day I was travelling to Berlin to attend a
conference. It happened that I sat beside a young man in his early 20’s. I started
a conversation with him and discovered that he is an Israeli soldier. Of
course, the political conflict became the topic of our conversation.
Surprisingly, I enjoyed talking to this man. I learned about his perspective
and I tried to share mine. What was shocking to me was when he said that since
he was so little, he was told that Arabs are his enemy. I told him the same:
that since I was a little boy, I have been told that Jews are our enemies.
When the flight attendant came and asked us if we
would like to buy a drink, I asked if I could buy him one. He looked at me strangely
and said: “But I’m supposed to be your enemy. Why would you buy me a drink?” I
answered him: “You might be my enemy on the ground, but enmity does not work in
the air.”
Those who say, “I love God,” and hate their brothers
or sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they
have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen.
Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from
God.
May the peace of God which passes all understanding
keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.
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