Love’s weight

 

Then the mother of the sons of Zebedee came to Jesus with her sons, and kneeling before him, she asked a favor of him. And he said to her, ‘What do you want?’ She said to him, ‘Declare that these two sons of mine will sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your kingdom.’ But Jesus answered, ‘You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I am about to drink?’  (Matthew 20:20-22)

The gospels offer little detail about Jesus’ emotions. It seldom records the look on his face when he spoke, encountered resistance or struggled to penetrate the incomprehension of his dense disciples, which had to be frustrating.

We see glimpses of his joy and exasperation now and then. We hear of his compassion for the wounded and wandering whose hearts had no true home. And a few times we hear his anger at the hypocrisy and arrogance of those who preferred self-adulation to compassion.

Following those clues, we might risk guessing what this little scene moved in his heart.

I don’t hear anger in his voice, only sadness. Are you able to drink the cup of suffering soon to come?  

He might well have been sad about their continued failure to understand the kingdom of God is not an invitation to personal glorify. But I don’t think so.

I think his sadness is that of knowing how much bearing love’s weight will cost him ... and how much it will cost them as they follow love’s way. For the time will come when they, too, will be broken beneath the weight of love, giving themselves to reveal the love of the Love who is in them.

And right there we see the paradox of Christian faith. The fulfillment of our all-too-human lives is found not in the significance of our resumes but in giving ourselves away to salve the wounds of a very broken world, bearing love’s weight as it comes to us in our time and place.

David L. Miller

 

 

 

The big picture

 Do not judge, and you will not be judged; do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven. (Luke 6:27)

Taken literally, this saying of Jesus can lead the naïve into a normless morass in which it seems impossible to praise the good and call out evil. Jesus himself had no problem naming evils that burden hearts and destroy lives and frequently called out hatred and hypocrisy when it appeared.

“Do not judge” can hardly mean holding your tongue in the face of injustice and hatred, which in itself is a careless act which empowers all kinds of oppression. Take Ukraine, for example, or casual racism for another.

But judgment cannot be an end in itself. It must not be a life stance in which we stand over against others, separating ourselves from them, creating ever new and deeper divisions within an already fractured humanity.

For oneness in love, mutuality and unity in common care, is the mission of Jesus. The distinctions we must make between what builds up and what tears down, between what is good and helpful for humanity and all creation, and what is not—these judgments are best made in light of the big picture of what God is doing.

Jesus prayed that those who follow him may all be one. Later New Testament letters speak of God’s holy purpose, drawing all things into one, harmonious loving reality, a community of grace, the body of Christ in which each part is loved and treasured and has its role to play, it’s beauty and grace to share. Jesus called it the kingdom of God

This is quite beyond our human capacity to create, yet we contribute to God’s holy dream of loving oneness each time we seek to unite and not divide, each time we manage to overcome self-righteousness in order to reconcile, each time we choose to bless and not curse and condemn.

After all, the world and its peoples are already are one body in which what affects one affects all.

Just so, our choices about judging or forgiving, damning or blessing are really decisions about what we want for ourselves.

David L. Miller