Mark 12:28-34
Presented February 26th, 2006, by Jeanne Davies
The Last Sunday of Epiphany
I don’t know about you, but I’m glad that it is Sunday. I’m ready for a new week. I’m not going to preach long. Usually I follow an elaborate process of scripture study and reflection before I prepare my sermons. This week, that wouldn’t have helped me. Preaching on this day is difficult. In tough times like this, sometimes words fail. People have been asking me how I am. Sometimes I just say: “….” More importantly, people ask me how Pastor Joel is doing, and often I say: “….” When trying to describe what’s happening sometimes I just say: “….” When we try to speak words of comfort to Joel or his family, sometimes we just say: “….” I know that our suffering is not unique and that many communities today around the world are suffering what we suffer. In particular, I think of the war still going on in Iraq and the families and communities that continue to grieve there. But today I’m going to keep our focus here, at home, in our congregation. And I’m going to keep it simple.
When tragedy strikes we get back to basics. It strips away the unimportant things and we are left with what truly has value and meaning. When Jesus was asked, “What is the greatest commandment?” He answered, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength, and love your neighbor as yourself.”
Many years ago now, a former pastor of mine said to me, “The two things that are essential to the Christian faith are loving God and loving your neighbor. The rest are details. The rest are negotiable. The rest we can debate about.” Jesus encouraged the scribes not to become bogged down in theological disputes or petty squabbling but to focus on the heart of religion, which is love.
The death of friends and loved ones pulls us up short. When faced with such a crisis, we remember why we come here every week. Oh yeah … [slapping head] that’s why I’m here … I remember now … it’s because I love God and I love my neighbor and I want to be in relationship with others who do too. Not because I’d feel guilty if I didn’t. Not just because I said I’d do something this Sunday morning. Not just because I need to bring my kids to Sunday School. Not just because my parents make me come. We continue to worship together week after week, Sunday after Sunday, because of our love for God and for each other, and because of God’s love for us that will not let us go. As the scribe in today’s scripture observes, love is more important than all burnt offerings or sacrifices—or whatever things we get caught up in that seem essential to our life in Christ together but truly are not. Brennan Manning once said, “Love is the only sign Jesus ever said by which his followers would be known. The most Christlike person is not the one who prays the most, it is the one who loves the most. Those who follow Jesus, will be known by how much they love, not by how often they go to church.”
Loving God. Loving neighbor as yourself. That alone is enough work for a lifetime. We don’t really need to worry about anything else. If we even come close to getting that right, we’re not far from the Kingdom of God, and Christ will bring us the rest of the way.
Since I am preaching in Pastor Joel’s place this morning, I decided to read a little Henri Nouwen in preparation for my sermon. In the book Turn My Mourning into Dancing Nouwen says,
We will suffer, and suffer with one another, but in so doing we will uncover nothing less than the presence of a God whose consolation keeps us going. In Christ God draws near us amid our sufferings…. God becomes a part of our mourning and invites us to learn to dance—not alone, but with others, sharing in God’s own compassion, as we both give and receive it.
The heart of the gospel message is that the final word is not death. As my Bethany professor, Dawn Ottoni Wilhelm, said to me on the phone Wednesday, “Love is the first word. Love is the last word and every word in between.”
This is a loving congregation. In the last week I’ve witnessed so many demonstrations of love given freely and generously. Deacons ministering. Children cared for. Phones answered. Calls made. New responsiblities shouldered. Bulletins folded. Meals delivered. Notices written. Candles lit. Counsel given. Tables moved. Flowers arranged. Boxes moved. Music recorded. Hugs. Shoulders to cry on. And much, much more. I am personally grateful to the many who ministered to me this week in large and small ways. I felt a little like Jesus must have felt in the desert being waited on by angels. Grace abounds at Highland Avenue Church of the Brethren. We are bound together in love and what affects one of us, affects us all. I am aware that for many of us, this tragedy brings up the memories and pain of our own personal losses. Let us be tender with one another in this time.
Our circumstances are painful and they raise uncertainty and questions. How long will Pastor Joel be gone? We don’t know. Where do we go from here? When will it get better? When will we get back to normal? The truth is that we will never be back to normal the way that we were before. Everything is different. But, in time and with God’s grace, we’ll find a new normal, and so will Pastor Joel. Until then, we will minister in love together, mindful of our call as a congregation to deepen faith, to proclaim peace, to embrace community, to welcome others, and serve our neighbor, in the compassionate Spirit of Jesus. And we’ll keep the candy jar full in his office until he returns.