Matthew 22: 34-end
I’d like to tell you a story about a young monk who might have lived around 1300 years ago, just a few miles from here. He is learning about God’s love.
The evening light was fading, the breeze carried the first bite of winter cold, and golden autumn leaves crowned the perimeter of the monastery. Inside, a young monk, Godwin, lifted the latch of the warming house, the one room in the monastery where a fire was always to be found. His teacher, a grey bearded monk of forty years learning, was already standing by the fire, warming his ink-stained hands. Dragging a stool across the flagstones to the edge of the hearth, Godwin sat down and pulled his thick linen habit a little tighter. The firelight was soothing, but his taught face betrayed deep thought.
“You look troubled,” said his teacher.
“The Lord’s teaching is too difficult”, Godwin sighed. “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind. You shall love your neighbour as yourself.” Even after five years in the monastery, now aged fourteen, the words lay heavily upon Godwin’s soul. They seemed odd, confusing even, and impossible.
“Why is this difficult?” asked the teacher.
“To love God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind –and to love your neighbour as yourself. Duty I can perform. Obedience I can yield. But love? How can we be commanded to feel something? What if my heart is as dry as dust?”
The faint crease of a smile rose in the teacher’s face. He recognised his younger self in the young monk. “What does it mean, to love our neighbour as ourselves?” he asked. “Most people think love involves certain feelings towards others – a liking or fondness or admiration, or a desire to be with the one we love.”
“Isn’t love all those things?” asked Godwin.
“Not quite,” replied the teacher. “The love Jesus shows us is not really about fuzzy feelings that come and go. Love is about what we long for, strive for, hope for, pray for. If we love someone, we don’t just have warm feelings towards them. If we love someone, we long for their good, their flourishing, their peace, their happiness. We strive for it, we hope for it, we pray for it.”
The teacher gazed into the flames. He spoke softly but firmly. “Loving your neighbour – the person sat next to you in a lesson or the difficult man in the street – doesn’t mean pretending they are nice when they are rude or selfish. Loving your neighbour means seeing them not just at their worst moments, but as the glorious person God wants them to be.”
“But it seems odd to be commanded to love myself,” said Godwin. “I’m often pretty disgusted when I make a fool of myself or I’m gossipy or nasty. Surely I should be selfless.” There was more than a hint of exasperation in his voice.
The teacher let the frustration linger for a moment. “But Godwin, even when you are disgusted with yourself, you still desire your own good. You still feed yourself, clothe yourself, and hope that you will become better tomorrow than you are today. That is how you love yourself. And that’s how Jesus commands us to love our neighbour.”
“But can we really be commanded to love?” asked Godwin, turning to face his teacher.
The teacher looked Godwin in the eye. “Loving God and loving neighbour are two sides of the same coin. To love God is to love our neighbour. To love our neighbour is to love God. But Jesus’ command isn’t like an instruction from the Prior or even the Precentor. They can be a nuisance or an imposition. Jesus commands our love because God loves us into existence. We can only love God and one another because God loved us first. If we love God and our neighbour, that’s not a nuisance or an imposition. It’s the fulfilment of who we really are.”
“And remember this, Godwin,” said the teacher. “If Jesus were just a human teacher, his commands would be a crushing burden – a mountain we could never hope to climb. But because he is the Son of God, God himself with us, breaking into our cold and selfish lives, he does not demand this love. He gives it to us.”
The teacher sat silently. This brief exchange was enough, at least for now. The light and warmth of the fire in the warming house held back the darkness and chill outside the monastery. Godwin felt his soul to be a little brighter and a little warmer. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind. You shall love your neighbour as yourself. This is such an ancient teaching that is now offered to me, he thought. Perhaps this isn’t a burden after all; it might even be life in its fulness. He suddenly remembered his name, given at his baptism: Godwin meaning ‘friend of God’. A silent prayer rose in his heart: God, by your love make me your friend and show me how to love you and my neighbour.
Ariadne, Zoe, Grace and Joseph, today we welcome you with joy as baptised members of Christ’s family. We strive for, hope for, pray for God’s love and peace to fill your lives. As we pray for you, pray for everyone who surrounds you, that we all may come to know God and share his life as disciples and friends of Jesus Christ.