Risky Love (Matthew 22:34-40)

So this is a sermon on love, plain and simple. Except it’s not so plain and simple. Everytime I think about love, the bigger the topic seems to get.

The same thing happens every time I think deeply about God…

We know that love is the most important command.

It really wasn’t that long ago that I preached about the Shema. Remember? Shema is the Hebrew word for “Hear,” and in the sixth chapter of Deuteronomy, there is a verse which says: “Hear, O Israel: You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might.”

Every Jew in ancient times grew up reciting and memorizing the Shema, a practice which continues even today.

When Jesus was asked what the greatest commandment was, he said:

“Shema Ysrael; Hear, O Israel: You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might.”

And of course, the source of that love that we are to show to God, the model for how we are to love, is the love God has shown to us.

Some of my earliest memories in the church involve sitting in little wooden chairs arranged in a circle in a kindergarten Sunday School class taught by Evelyn Campbell at Little White Chapel Christian Church in Burbank.

Those lessons were about God’s love for us. We sang songs like “Jesus Loves Me.” And we were introduced to Bible verses like, “Behold what manner of love the Father has given unto us, that we should be called children of God.”

It seemed so simple then.

I had no idea how radical an idea love is.

In the ancient world, there were many religions, and most of those religions had many gods. Think of the Greek myths and all those Greek gods… You are familiar with those stories. What is it that characterizes the relationship between the gods and mortals?

It’s not love.

It’s power. Control. Jealousy. Anger.

And occasionally we do see attributes like jealousy and anger presented as attributes of God in the Bible, but then it goes back to love. It always goes back to love.

It’s like the authors of scripture got momentarily confused, and started describing the gods of the world around them; that they got a little mixed-up for a moment and forgot which god they were talking about.

Then a moment later they shake their heads, wake up, and go, “Oh, yeah; our God, the one true God, is a God of love.”

Now: probe really deeply into this, think deeply, and you start to realize just how crazy this is.

Love. Is. Crazy.

If our God chooses to relate to us with love, rather than power or control, that is a very risky, dangerous thing for God to do.

Also, love – a deep, mature love – involves freedom, which only multiplies the level of risk even further.

Now I’m not sure many of us think of love in this way. We don’t think of the risk. We don’t think of love as dangerous, something that leaves us so vulnerable. Because in some ways, our idea of love is still the idea that was presented to me in Mrs. Campbell’s kindergarten Sunday School class.

This is not to criticize what I was taught, or what you may have been taught. What was taught to me then was a very appropriate way to teach about love to a group of five year-olds.

But the way we love as mature individuals isn’t quite the same as the way we love – or experienced love – as little children.

The love of a parent and child is very real, very deep – but it is not equal in terms of power and control. The parent has the responsibility to care for the child; the child has the responsibility to obey the parent.

In that sense, it’s not an equal love, nor should it be.

Until I really thought about it, that’s pretty much how I thought of God’s love for me and my love for God. God is the parent, I am the child. God cares for me, and I am obligated to love God in return. It’s simple.

But now, I’m not so sure it’s like that.

As I grew and became an adult, I discovered a new way to love. The love I had for my parents was no longer just because I was supposed to love, or because they cared for and provided for me.  It became something that I chose.

As a child, I don’t know that I was even aware that not loving one’s parent was a choice, an option, available to me. I couldn’t even conceive of that. It wasn’t on my radar.

As an adult, I no longer feel the compulsion to love. I realize now that the choice to not love is a choice that is available … and there are people who choose to not love.

Having this choice is not a bad thing.  In fact, it’s quite wonderful. Because it’s so much more meaningful to be loved by someone who has the choice of whether or not to love. To be loved by someone who has no choice but to love – well, that’s not really love. That’s power and control.

And power and control are the characteristics of all those other gods. “You must love me, or else…” That’s not really love. That’s power and control.

As a child grows, the parent gives the child more choice, more freedom, more responsibility… and hopefully the tools to make those choices and exercise that freedom and responsibility in ways that are mature.

The parent’s level of power and control gradually diminishes over time as the child’s freedom increases, until the day that child becomes an adult… and then, even though the parent may still offer advice and guidance, freedom of choice belongs to the child.

And a parent who truly loves his or her child will encourage the child on this path to freedom.

What a terrible, risky thing love is!

As I think about this, and think about God’s love, I come to the same conclusion. Wouldn’t God favor a more mature love, an adult love, rather than a five year-old’s concept of love?

God loves us. God loves each and every one of us. God does not use power to control us. God gives us freedom, because love without freedom isn’t love at all, or at least not mature love.

Which means that God gives us the freedom to accept that love and love God in return, or to reject God and reject God’s love.

The most visible expression of God’s love we have is Jesus. Jesus is God’s love incarnate. God gave the world Jesus and said, “this is my gift to you, my most precious, beloved gift. This is the sign, the symbol, of how much I love you.

“Listen to him. I’m not going to make you listen to him. I’m not going to force you to do what he says and live as he taught. I love you, so I’m giving you the freedom to choose whether or not you will follow him.”

It’s a more mature, risky, dangerous sort of love.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only son…”

And the world received this precious gift, this love. And what did the world do with it?

To love fully, with a mature love, means you leave yourself vulnerable.  To love like that means you might get hurt.

The one you love so dearly might take your love and nail it to a cross.

Fortunately, God’s not going to do that with our love. We can choose to love God with all our heart, all our soul, all our might, and God will accept our love and cherish it and rejoice over it.

But here’s the catch.

To love God, we must love our neighbor.

“‘Shema Ysrael: You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.”

When you love your neighbor, you are giving your neighbor a part of yourself. That is a precious gift. And your neighbor can accept that love, can return that love… or they can abuse that gift, and hurt you..

Because love offers a choice.  Love gives freedom. The one you love can either cherish your love, or nail it to a cross.

Love is risky and dangerous.

And yet, love persists.

Why?

Why do we keep loving, even when it is so dangerous, so risky, to do so?

Because love is patient; love is kind.

Love does not insist on its own way.

Love is not resentful.

Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love is the greatest of all.