Sermon for the Season after Pentecost – Proper 25

Readings
Leviticus 19:1-2,15-18
Psalm 1
1 Thessalonians 2:1-8
Matthew 22:34-46

Today we hear one of the perennial stories of Jesus in the Gospels. We, in fact, hear his central teaching regarding what is paramount in the life of faith. But how many of us have taken time to think seriously about that teaching and to reflect on its implications for our life? How often have we, because of its familiarity, simply affirmed it and presumed to know what it means? We would do well to take some time this morning to examine and explore this Gospel passage more closely.

Today’s Gospel reading occurs during Jesus’ last week on earth. It is a time of rising tension between Jesus and the religious authorities. It is a time when those in power would like to see him discredited, humiliated, and/or killed.

It is into this environment that we hear that a lawyer, a member of the Pharisees, decides to ask him a question to test him. Make no mistake, this teacher of the Jewish scriptures, is not simply asking Jesus a question. As I just said, his motivation is, at minimum, to discredit Jesus. This question is meant to be a trap.

He asks, “Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?” To this Jesus responds with a quote from Deuteronomy 6:5. This is a sentence that would have been familiar to every Jewish person who heard it. It is at the heart of Jewish life and is repeated each morning and at the start of every worship service. Jesus says that the greatest law is “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.” And then, quoting Leviticus 19:18, he expands upon it and says that the second is like it. “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” But Jesus is not done in his response. He ends his answer by saying “On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.”

But having been tested, Jesus now turns the tables and asks a question of the Pharisees gathered near him. First quoting Psalm 110, verse 1, he then asks them whose son the messiah is. They, informed by a number of biblical passages, say that the Messiah is the son of David. But Jesus questions that answer since the psalm refers to the Messiah as the superior of David. And then it says that no one was able to answer him and from that point forward no one dared to ask him any questions.

At the heart of this Gospel is Jesus’ teaching that we are primarily called to love God with all our heart, soul, strength, and mind. And secondarily we are to love our neighbor as ourselves. This is all well and good, but what exactly does it mean?

On the surface we may be tempted to think that we are to feel affection for God, even passion. That we are to adore God completely and wholly. And that just as we love ourselves, we are to love those around us in a similar fashion.

But I ask you, is this what this teaching means? Does the central teaching of the Christian faith boil down to feelings and our ability to sustain them? If so, then I am afraid that we are doomed to failure. Really, who among us can sustain such passion? In fact, who among us can have such feelings for a God so transcendent and other? And as for our relationships with others, the same is true. Feelings come and go and often are challenged by the normal ups and downs of the human condition.

But there is another way of thinking about love. Anyone who has been married for more than a couple of years knows that romance fades over time. But, when practiced intentionally, love can remain. But this is not simply love as a feeling. No rather it is love as a choice. It is about commitment. It is about engagement. It is about learning to love what the other loves and making space for mystery. When love is exercised in this way romance gives way to a deeper kind of love and makes room ultimately for passion that is far more profound than our popular notions of it.

When we love with all our heart, soul, strength, and mind, we are not simply offering up the surface feelings of affection that we often call love. No, we are offering a love that is all about choice rather than a feeling.

Now don’t get me wrong. Feelings are not bad or wrong. But feelings come and go. And feelings change over time. It is inevitable. It is part of the human condition.

What I believe Jesus is speaking of is a love where we choose to love what God loves. Jesus is speaking of a love where we make a deep and profound commitment to God and to what God cares about.

But how do we know what God loves? How do we access the mind and the heart of God?

Well, if we are to believe what Jesus is teaching about himself in the second half of this passage, that as the Messiah he is the Son of God, then we need look no further than Jesus to know what God loves and what God cares about. As I have said in several sermons from this pulpit, we need look no further than the shape of Jesus’ own life in order to live out these commandments.

And what does Jesus love? Jesus loves us. All of us. Jesus loves humanity. Without condition and without judgment. His is a worldview in which he sees first the goodness and value inherent in every person he meets. Does he condone broken behavior? No. In fact, he rejects behavior that undermines the human condition or estranges us from one another and from God. Specifically, he rejects religious ideology and practice that make God less accessible or worse alienates us from God. He also rejects systems of oppression and degradation. Ultimately he proclaims a vision of God and God’s love that calls us to others in a way that does no harm and creates acceptance that both heals our broken hearts as well as the hearts of everyone we encounter. Jesus offers forgiveness and transformation rather than judgment, condemnation, and destruction.

Like in the time of Jesus however, we live in an age of polarization and violence. We live in an age when our only vision for justice is retribution. We seek “an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.” We long to punish the perpetrators who do us and others harm.

Whether looking at the conflict in Ukraine or the burgeoning war between Israel and Hamas, we see such drama being played out. The tensions are laid out in terms of retribution for the perpetrators, each side claiming the place of victim and the high moral ground in their violent behavior. And those of us who watch from afar polarize over whose side we are going to choose. Do we side with the Israelis who faced unconscionable terror from Hamas. Or do we side with the innocent victims of Israel’s bombardment in Gaza? How do we hold Hamas accountable? How do we grieve with Israel, while at the same time, grieve with Palestinians who are losing their homes, their families, and their lives? From the perspective of the dominant culture, it is virtually impossible to do all of those things.

If we are to be a people of the greatest commandment and the one that follows, then we must make a commitment to live as Jesus lived and to love as Jesus loved. We must step into the messy and difficult position of seeing ourselves in all of those involved. We must advocate for the dignity of every human being. We must defend the victim while avoiding the temptation to retribution. We must seek a peace that reflects the values of the kingdom of God. A peace with justice for all, not just one side or the other. And as part of that, we must recognize the complexity of the situation, both holding persons accountable for their broken behavior while at the same time creating space for forgiveness and transformation.

But such behavior doesn’t just extend to foreign wars. It also extends to our own shores and the mess we have culturally and politically in this society. Where are the voices that would have us stop from hating one another in terms of social, economic, and political differences? How do we, both collectively and individually, become a third voice in the national dialogue?

We must, as in the case of foreign conflict, be a voice for peace with justice. Not just justice for those who agree with us, but justice for all. We must recognize our common humanity and call others to do likewise. We must actively work for a society that expresses a concern for the general welfare and promotes economic and social equity. We must hold one another accountable for our broken behavior and call out those who would do us harm in a way that seeks not retribution but works towards forgiveness and transformation.

These are no small tasks, my friends. This message was counter-cultural in Jesus’ time, and it remains so today. There are those, both within and outside the Church, that see such a message as subversive and would seek to do us harm for proclaiming it. But our hope is not in our safety. Our hope is not in a compromised peace that simply avoids conflict. No, our hope is in the promise of the resurrection and the kingdom of God. We must have faith that we are not alone, and that God is with us and for us. We must be the embodiment of Christ in our own day so that his proclamation and his salvation is not lost to this generation.

No, friends, our calling is to love what God loves and to care about what God cares about. Our call is to be the voice crying in the wilderness. Our call is to be repairers of the breach; to be those who mend that which connects us.

Only then can we be a people who love the Lord our God with all our heart, soul, strength, and mind. Only then can we be a people who love our neighbor as ourselves.