“This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.”
(long pause)
Any questions?
That’s all. That’s it. Jesus doesn’t say, “I have a suggestion for you.” He doesn’t say, “I have a little list for you.” He doesn’t say, “I have some rules for you.”
He says, “Love one another as I have loved you.”
Today’s gospel reading—and last week’s story of the vine and the branches—come from the section of the gospel according to John that’s called the Last Discourse. Jesus speaks these words to the disciples at the last supper, reminding them of the things that have happened during his time with them, telling them what will be happening to him and to them, summing up his teaching, and giving them directions for the road ahead. He knows they will be making difficult choices for the rest of their lives, and he gives them—and us—his commandment to guide those choices.
Jesus says, “Love one another as I have loved you.”
As I’ve meditated on these words in the last week or so, my response
has ranged from dismay at the difficulty of living into this teaching to despair
that we will ever be able to love one another.
As I read the news of the world and of the church, as I look at my own life
and the life of those around me, I think: “Impossible! How can he set
us such an impossible task? To love one another the same way he loves us? To
love one another in a way that shows God’s limitless and unending love?
We’re only humans. How can we even begin to love one another as he loves
us?”
Maybe we can’t. Perhaps that level of love is far beyond our capacity. But that doesn’t mean that we aren’t called to make the attempt. It doesn’t mean that we aren’t called to try, because loving one another is the only conceivable response to being loved as Jesus loves us.
How can we even begin to love one another as he loves us? There are two answers to that question. Both have to do with beginnings.
The beginning of our ability to love one another is to touch the enormous love God gives each of us. Jesus came to show us God’s love. Our human tendency is to romanticize that love—to sugar-coat and sentimentalize and drain the fearsome vitality from that powerful love—just as our pictures of the squeaky clean shepherd drain the life from the symbol of the one who cares for and protects us. But Jesus’ love for his disciples and for the world isn’t made of lace and flowers.
Jesus’ love is of a real person for real people. His love is made of long sweaty days teaching in the sun. His love is made of the mud he made with his own spit and used to give sight to the blind man. His love is made of truth-telling when evasion would be easier and safer. His love is made of breaking rules when they need to be broken as he did when he healed on the sabbath. His love is made of stretching his own understanding as he did when the Syrophoenician woman argued with him for the sake of healing for her daughter. Jesus’ love is real and it’s directed at real people—just like you and me.
Do you remember the story of the rich young man who asked Jesus what he must
do to have eternal life? Jesus looked at him and he knew him and he loved him.
He saw the young man just as he was, with all his attachment to the things of
this earth, with all his longing for the kingdom of God, with all his strengths
and all his weaknesses. He looked at the young man, and he loved him. He loved
the people with whom he argued and he loved the people whom he taught.
Jesus loved the people no one else loved—the outcasts, the sinners—real
people just like you and me.
How can we even begin to love one another as he loves us? The second part of the answer is that we begin where we are. We begin in all our brokenness and take the first step in loving one another by looking for whatever it is that God loves. We don’t wait until we’re fixed or healed or given new hearts or minds. We begin where we are. We struggle to see past our own near-sightedness—to see the true value that each human has in God’s eyes. Over and over again, we begin to love one another as Jesus loves us. We start out each new day with the hope that this will finally be the day when we’ll get it together, and we cherish the moments when it feels like we get close.
The very good news, my friends, is that we don’t have to do this by ourselves. Each week, we gather here as the Body of Christ, to look at each other and remember the ways we’ve seen God acting in the lives of the people around us. Each week, we hear once again that God’s love is great enough to forgive us our shortcomings, even before we ask. Each week, we come to this table to find new strength. Each week, we re invited to look closely at the ways Jesus shows us God’s love. Each week, we’re invited to show that love to others.
And in every moment, in our waking and our sleeping, in every day of our lives, the risen Christ comes to wrap that love around us like a blanket—to surround us and fill us with love that we can abide in, the kind of love we can live in.
Thanks be to God.