Easter
6B 2009
John 15:9-17
Carson McCullars spent much of
her short life writing about the difficulties of human loving. In her short story,
"A Tree, A Rock, A Cloud," a paper boy is accosted one early morning by an old man in a street corner cafe. The man, whom
the boy decides is drunk, says to him, "I love you," and then proceeds to tell the boy his story in the midst of the other
diners. He shows the boy a picture of a woman to whom he was married and who
left him. He tells the boy a long story about the difficulties he has had in
loving and then concludes that he started "at the wrong end of love." Loving
those that are most important to you is too difficult. You need to begin with
"a tree, a rock, a cloud," then those you don’t know or whatever comes into view. Loving
someone you really care about is, the old man says, "the last step in my science. I haven’t tried that again." (1)
No two human beings are exactly
alike. That makes life with all its varied relationships so interesting. Persons
are sometimes similar in general characteristics, and, even in contexts and experiences which they share. But they are never fully alike. Not even identical twins. No person is ever replicated. Patterns may recur
but each person is unique, a fresh creation.
This rich mixture of persons
in our world not only makes life interesting, but also makes it sometimes difficult. The variety of differences in persons
keeps life new and fresh, but also difficult. There are persons who differ on
faith. For some, the priority is the personal salvation of individuals. To others
it is of social justice. Whether to redeem the world or reform it represents
a real difference that divides churches and people. And similar divisions over the current wars, political parties, philosophies, and so on. (2)
Human love, then, exists between
selflessness and selfishness and often seems more like the latter than the former. The germ of self interest may be found
in the most sacrificial forms of love, so that pure selflessness appears an impossible ideal—as the parents identify
themselves with their children and heroes with the causes or people for whom they die.
In Love, Power, and Justice theologian Paul Tillich considered the meaning of love in its
relation to ultimate reality, that is, to God. He noted that all forms of love,
however different and even contradictory they seem to be,
are connected by a desire for unity with the object of love. While the desire
for unity may be obscured and corrupted by acts of violent possession, it is still present and reveals the universal human
need for a wholeness and completion that the ego, by itself, cannot obtain. For
Tillich this desire for unity is the thread that connects all forms of love
to the ground and power of being, to God as
its ultimate aim.
Another theologian noted that
Tillich was helpful, but in the end exposed more the tragedy than the triumph of human love.
And that the image of a divine love and relationality given to male and female exists in human history only as a sign
of what was lost. We humans are incomplete and cannot make ourselves whole. "Thou hast made us for Thyself, and our souls are restless `til they rest in Thee"
wrote Saint Augustine as early as the 5th Century AD.
God is complete in God’s self alone and can thus love as Father, Son and Spirit without needing anything
from either the divine or creaturely objects of his love. Thus the Son can say, "As the Father has loved me, so have I loved
you". in respect to time and space, to power and knowledge, there are no deficiencies
or needs in the divine life which could in any degree, put the creator in the place of
the creature. God
is neither static nor unfeeling, but none of God's changes
and feelings come from any incompletion or need, for God is complete in God’s self.
And so God's love is no more
like human love than is God's power or knowledge . Every finite human attribute
cannot be "like" its infinite divine counterpart. And yet, the mystery of revelation, a gracious God condescending to be present
with and for finite creatures, is this: the barrier between God and human beings
is breached and what was unthinkable becomes known, and what was impossible in
respect to us — and in respect to love—becomes possible. But that possibility becomes possible from one direction
and cause only.
Christian love corresponds to the incarnation. Just as God became human without erasing the humanity
of Jesus, or diminishing his divinity, , the Bible is the Word of God without changing or diminishing its character as frail
and fallible human words trying to capture the essence of the Divine Logos – Jesus Christ – and the infinite power
and unyielding mystery of the Divine Revelation of God’s Triune self. Just
as the communion bread and wine are turned from common use to a holy use and mystery, so our thoughts and actions may be turned
by the Holy Spirit to conform to God's will and purpose. Such divine action does
not cancel human freedom and responsibility, but empowers it. Human love is dependent
on divine love. We never can or
will take the initiative in love. We can and will love only because God has first
loved us, and still does. (3)
AMEN
1. As summarized and quoted by John Patton in Pastoral Implications II,
Lectionary Homiletics for John 15:
9-17, goodpreacher.com
2. Melvin A. Kimble, Luther Northwestern Theological Seminary, Pastoral Implications III, Lectionary Homiletics for John 15: 9-17, goodpreacher.com
3. Alexander
McKelway, Theological Themes I, Lectionary Homiletics for John 15: 9-17, goodpreacher.com
