This Gospel lesson is flabbergasting. I am not shocked that Jesus invites us to love God. That seems pretty much in character. I am not shocked that Jesus encourages us to love our neighbor. That too seems pretty much in character. What surprises me is his suggestion that we should love our neighbor as we love ourselves. That is a dreadfully low standard. Is Jesus really suggesting that I should take all the critical thoughts I have about myself and impose them on you? What was Jesus thinking?
I am willing to wager that if science invented some sort of device that could monitor the thoughts of all humans about ourselves, that device would find far more recrimination that adoration. We tend to interrogate ourselves, often over things long past. We may have injured someone long ago who has since gotten over it, but we haven’t. We pepper ourselves with questions: Why didn’t you work harder to save that relationship? Why didn’t you get out of that unhealthy relationship sooner? Why didn’t you work harder in school? Why didn’t you try harder to get along with that boss? Why did you smoke? Why didn’t you eat more broccoli? We act as though all suffering can be avoided, so when it arrives, it must prove we have been at fault.
I don’t know about you, but I often save my harshest indictments toward myself for the least important things. I speak to myself in ways I would never speak to you. When I can’t find my glasses, do you suppose I say, “Beloved Kathleen, why didn’t you put those glasses in their usual spot, so you could find them?” No. I say, “You idiot. Why didn’t you put those glasses in their usual spot? You know you can’t remember any other place!”
As I was sitting with my confusion about this Gospel, I went about life looking for some helpful image of love that could aid our understanding. God delivered one. I was visiting one of our members, Sharon Read, in the hospital. I thought I was going to lend comfort and consolation, but as so often happens in ministry, I received more than I gave. I bet that happens to you in your many ministries. Sharon is a retired teacher, and she told me this story. She recently returned to the school where she had last taught. Her final class was a Kindergarten class, and those kids are now in the 4th grade. As Sharon stepped on to the school yard, they saw her at a distance, and they all began running toward her with glee. Their enthusiasm revealed true love, and she greeted them with equal excitement. Now I would imagine that at least once or twice during the school year, Sharon revealed some human foible to those kids. Maybe she lost her temper, or maybe she called someone by the wrong name. Those moments were deep in the memory banks of those kids. But that’s not where their minds and their eyes were focused. They were focused on the best in Sharon: on the generous spirit she shared with them over nine months, on her creativity and all the pleasure they had together. Those are the eyes of love: eyes that can look past foibles and focus on the very best, eyes that treat the foibles as the exception and not the rule, eyes that treat the best as the rule.
Those kids ran toward Sharon remembering how she had enlivened them, and the memory enlivened them all over again. Their love ignited Sharon’s love in return. We speak about vicious downward spirals. This was a divine upward spiral. What would happen if such a spiral began to draw in others? Could the whole world spiral right up to Heaven?
How might our lives be different if, in every minute of every day, we felt someone rushing toward us in love the way those 4th graders were rushing toward Sharon, someone looking past all our foibles and dwelling only on our best potential. Sharon was elated. What would life be like if every moment offered us such elation? I don’t think I could call myself an idiot if I was feeling such love. Here’s the clincher: Someone IS rushing toward each and every one of us in such love every second of every day. That someone is no one less than the creator, redeemer and sustainer of the universe. We come here to celebrate and proclaim that this is the very identity of God, that God is rushing toward all humanity with eyes that look past foibles and focus on best potential. We come here to celebrate and proclaim that we can be sure of this because of Jesus. By choosing to come into our human condition after seeing all humanity’s foibles, God declared abiding faith in our best potential and said, “Here! Here is what your best potential looks like in full bloom. It’s here in Jesus.” You might think of Jesus’ birth as God rushing into our school yard in love, rushing to join us in all we experience. These are the great truths that we as Christians offer to the world.
If these are the truths that bring us together each Sunday, why can’t we manage to let them direct our thoughts more fully? How does all that self-recrimination sneak in? We can’t fully answer these questions, but we can know this: Our community together in the church gives us tools to make progress. Today, we can experience one of those tools: Anointing for healing with laying on of hands and prayers. You may have hesitated to come forward in the past, not being aware of any specific malady for which you might seek healing. But there is one salve we can all use, the salve of hope. Our collect for today mentions faith, hope and love. Many of you know the famous passage in Corinthians that calls love the “greatest of these.” Love is the greatest, but hope is the soil from which it springs. I may have been flabbergasted by the Gospel, but as usual, Jesus was right. He knew that hope for ourselves is the beginning place for love of others. When we really feel God rushing toward us with a love that can look past foibles and draw us toward our best potential, gratitude wells up that can’t help but overflow, and that overflowing love spills on to all God’s other creatures.
May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, through the power of the Holy Spirit. Amen.