Recently we’ve heard from John’s Gospel. There is theological debate about the authorship of the Fourth Gospel. We know it was written in the 80s or 90s for an early Christian audience who did not know Jesus, by a writer who did know Jesus, a writer described as beloved, who was clearly a witness to Jesus’ preaching years and present on privileged occasions such as the wedding feast at Cana, the healing of both Peter’s mother in law and Jairus’s daughter. A close relationship is evident, and an eyewitness provides authority underwriting the Gospel’s historical authenticity, an ideal disciple. Possibly it’s Elder John, not disciple John and not the only author of this last Gospel. The author writes to those early followers, called the Johannine Community – a group riven from within, a divided community, expelled from the Temple, experiencing hostility and no longer accepted by the Hebrews. Unity, and love is stressed.
A fourth Gospel motif, a repeated theme, is love. The church’s mission is to love all, everywhere. This Gospel’s portrayal of women is sympathetic, while significant disciple and witness roles are allocated. Next week is the Ascension. Unknown to the disciples Jesus will leave. In a sense – he passes on the baton. While Jesus abides with them, dwells with them now, he urges them to love one another as he loves them, his death being the ultimate sign of love. But the world is not going to pot – God is there, dwelling amongst them, providing all that is needed.
Today’s readings are about LOVE: about hospitality in Cornelius’s home, about inclusivity where everyone is involved (‘neither gentile nor Jew, servant or free, woman nor man no more…’). Relationships are important not labels. This Gospel explores being human, with no hierarchies, no labels – a new life recognising humanity, powered by the Holy Spirit. Jesus passionately urges all to go for broke. We overuse that word love, don’t we?
I wonder how we love in the world today. I might:
However, love is measured by doing, more than feeling, it seeks to serve. ‘If you love me keep my commandments’. Service beyond kindness and neighbourliness is love of God in action. It brings joy and accommodates working for peace and justice. We are called to live by the law of love, developing peaceful and caring relationships reflecting an attitude of service, practicing Christian charity, mirroring relationship and responsibility.
Jesus commands we abide in his love, as his Father loves him. We do this by keeping his commandments – especially loving one another – as he loved us. He compares love and servanthood which were two contrasts of his era. His followers were not all Jewish, focussing on humanity, some were gentile, focussed on divinity – resulting in considerable tension. On Holy Thursday, Jesus announced the disciples were his friends, and again today, he is not the master.
It is easy to love friends, isn’t it? What about those I dislike, strangers, or even enemies? Those who ridicule or dispute me – can I love them without judgement? How far would I go for them? Created in God’s likeness, we are commanded to love one another. Following this commandment enables us to love those who are imperfect – warts and all, recognising all are worthy. More than a feeling, this is love in action, love that pays the price, the costly price. God is easy to deal with, people are messy.
Andrew Lloyd Webber wrote, ‘Love changes everything…love will never, ever let you be the same.’ This love brings deep-seated joy. Jesus chose the disciples for God’s work. We don’t choose God, he chooses us. The Sisters of St Joseph of St Augustin’s mission statement announces they are ‘…seized by God’s love…’ – seized!
We recently commemorated ANZAC Day: we know: ‘No one has greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends…'(or country). For Jesus, love begins with the Father, flows through the Son, and on to the disciples. It is comforting and empowering. This clarifies the essence of love. Remember the vine and vine-keeper images last weekend – again reflecting the inter-relationships between Father, Son and the disciples. This is a pattern for life. If parents go to extraordinary lengths, take any risk to love their children – how much has God done for us? We are called to love one another, not a fuzzy, floaty feeling but with a degree of sacrifice. It challenges us to establish what we really love. Can we truly love animals, organisations, ideas or can we only love people? (Apologies pet owners!)
As Jean Valjean sang, in Les Miserables, ‘To love another person is to see the face of God…’
It leaves me wondering: How is this love possible…? Can I love and not count the cost…?
Today is the last Sunday in the Church’s round before we celebrate the feast of the Ascension. In the gospel accounts, we are at the end of those wonderfully vivid post Resurrection appearances, …of grieving men trudging the road to Emmaus; …of the sight of someone, Jesus, cooking a dawn breakfast for wet cold fishermen at the edge of the sea of Galilee. Christ still visibly with his disciples. And then the Ascension.
From here the disciples – the motley collection of cowardice and bravery, of impulse and stubbornness – wait for the Holy Spirit and Pentecost.
And after Pentecost when they, like us, have received the Spirit, they – as we do – make the best they can of it, preaching of Jesus Son of God, having no certain idea of directions. They went where the spirit took them, and that could be a wild ride.
Today’s readings are some of the most appealing of the liturgical year. Iridescent with love, generosity of Spirit, inclusiveness. They shine out. But these calls to love are not just some warm-hearted impulse, rather they are a crucial response in times of doubt – even dismay – to the challenges in the early church. They asked then “What should the group – their church – look like?” It was a question asked down twenty centuries, and we ask that again today – What on earth should we look like as a church?
The first reading needs a bit of a backstory: there’s Peter in the House of Simon the Tanner on the coast near what is now Tel Aviv. Up on the typical flat roof, where you can catch cool air, Peter dozed and dreamed, at the same time as a Centurion some miles away had a vision, each one in their own way removing divisions between Jews (the faithful of the circumcision) and pious gentiles. Peter suddenly understood that the old laws were no longer relevant, need not apply. There was no longer Jew or Gentile. His world of Christian believers had just got unnervingly larger. At that same moment the centurion sent for Peter – and then in an extraordinary gesture fell at Peter’s feet. It’s an electric moment of total reversal. Senior Roman soldiers don’t kneel in front of local fishermen. And it becomes even more charged when Peter proclaims that people from all the world who fear God and work justly imbued with the Spirit can be baptised to become directly part of the group. Imbued by the Spirit they had no need to convert to Judaism first. Challenging as it was, the disciples agree. Mostly. Others couldn’t tolerate the advent of outsiders and reluctantly left. Of course, the desertion and divisions hurt terribly. Some felt the Messiah was only for them. Acts makes clear however, it was God still guiding the young group’s inclusive decision. And on the basis of this Peter and the early group were willing to take steps into the dark. They were forming their church as the spirit guided them, holding the group together with love.
The events in John’s letter matches Acts, but leaps forward at least another 50 years in the history of the early church. Peter had long since died in Rome. Now there’s a new and cruel challenge. It had never really registered with those founding followers of Jesus that they would have to choose between Him and their own cultural roots and family structure. Now Christians were expelled from the fellowship of the synagogue. Out on their own, cut adrift, these Jesus groups were now subject to the double blow of religious discrimination in the Roman Empire. Execution. They called it martyrdom. Not surprisingly, there were bitter recriminations – here in the community that derived from John the Beloved, some commentators suggest that only the minority of the group remained. Terribly shaken.
The opening cry of John’s letter 4:7 ‘Dearly beloved, let us love one another,’ is not the wording of affectionate family, but the urgent call of a fracturing group. “Love one another because that is Christ” is a call gathering fragments of a community together, confirming their truth. If you look carefully at what is written here, it’s not a question of belief first and then comes love; the natural order of things is inverted, love comes first and belief follows.
The test of whether you are actually born of God i.e, your belief is legitimate, is your capacity/willingness to love. If you lack love your belief and practice are false. It’s this understanding that echoes down into the church and it’s a question we must answer in turn ‘how do we embody this essential love today?’
Then of course, we have part of the Last Supper Discourse, in John’s Gospel, written down at the time of the letter but profoundly resonant with the intensity of that last meal. And the grief of the Crucifixion to come. In earlier readings this year, Christ has called Himself the Good Shepherd, has described us as the Vine and branches, now the metaphors have ended. God is not a metaphor for love. He is actually love. And then to get matters straight, “You did not choose me, I chose you”, I am not your master but your friend, I explain not instruct. It is your great joy as well as your great duty to love one another. Greater love has no man than he lay down his life for his friends. If the disciples weren’t shaken by this intensity, then we surely must be.
The onus to love underpins us. Then the onus to be inclusive in the church in every way is also on us. Our church is changing – as it has done over all its history. Let us love one another and then let us see where the Holy Spirit sends us.
In order to deeply understand today’s text and not only interpret it at surface level, I found it important to explore and understand the world behind the text. The world in which John lived and what his community were experiencing.
John was writing at approximately 100CE and it is probable to a community of people with Jewish and gentile heritage that were experiencing division and conflict. There are tensions between these two groups with different understandings of Christ’s humanity and divinity. Christians were also publicly persecuted. In John’s Gospel he stresses unity with Jesus and loving one another. He is writing for his community to work for peace and justice in their broken world.
Today’s readings speak of unconditional love. The relationship we have with God and the unconditional love that God shows for us. On Holy Thursday when Jesus washed the disciple’s feet we were called into service of others, whilst at the same time Jesus states in today’s Gospel that he does not call us servants as we have a personal relationship with him, and know what he has learnt from the Father, rather we are friends.
Being in a relationship with Jesus, being his friend, comes with responsibility. There are no favourites, Jesus’ love is for all. Jesus worked with the marginalised, those whom his society would have nothing to do with. So, the mission we are given today, the role that Jesus gave his disciples, is to live in love so that we can ‘go out and bear fruit’. We are in service to others.
St Teresa of Avila tells us:
Christ has no body but yours, no hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which He looks Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which He walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which He blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are His body.
Christ has no body now but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which He looks compassion on this world.
Christ has no body now on earth but yours.
Our friendship with Christ requires us to live by the law of love. Our love is real and needs to be active, even when challenging. The responsorial psalm sings with joy that all the ends of the earth have seen God’s love. So the world of this text was experiencing division and conflict, our world today is experiencing division and conflict. The readings of today give us joy by giving us the capacity to imagine a world that lives by the love of God.
So, this ancient sacred text was calling its original listeners to go out into their broken world and be the face of Christ, to love like Jesus without exception. To recontextualise this text, what does it mean for us today? The world in front of this text, our world, is still experiencing division and conflict and the challenge for us from this text and from our faith is ‘to go out to love and serve the Lord’ unconditionally. The call to love one another unconditionally, as emphasized in today’s readings, remains timeless and relevant.
In our world today, marked by division and conflict, the message of love and unity is perhaps more vital than ever. Our challenge is how we can embody the love of Christ in our daily lives, especially when faced with difficulties, is crucial.
Additionally, practicing forgiveness and reconciliation can help heal wounds and mend relationships, reflecting the transformative power of love in action.
Engaging in acts of service and solidarity with marginalised and vulnerable communities is another way to demonstrate Christ-like love. By advocating for justice and working towards positive social change, we embody the values of compassion and inclusivity that lie at the heart of Jesus’ teachings.
Ultimately, living out the commandment to love one another requires a conscious commitment to embodying the principles of kindness, empathy, and compassion in our interactions with others, even – and especially – in the face of adversity. As St Teresa of Avila’s words remind us, we are called to be the hands and feet of Christ in the world, extending his love and compassion to all whom we encounter.
Today, I’d like to speak briefly about the Holy Spirit as referred to in the first reading and then focus on love of neighbour as central to the excerpt from the Gospel of John.
Soon, we will be celebrating the feast of Pentecost, the birthday of the Christian Church, when the agency of the Holy Spirit alighted on those waiting for a sign as to how to fulfill their apostolic mission to preach to all nations.
In Acts, Luke records the conversation between the Gentile Cornelius and Peter, the orthodox Jew, who asserts that they are both human and equal. This is a mutual meeting point of insight and conversion – the conversion of the Roman centurion to Christ and the conversion of Peter to the Gentiles. There is no hierarchy, no labels or pigeonholing, no division, no distinction, no male or female, slave or free, just a universality of belonging that illuminates the way ahead. This meeting is an opening up of the love of God for all people.
For all who believe share in the Spirit. This is the Holy Spirit who energises, enlivens and enables us. This is the Spirit that is the Godly get-up and go to do good for others. This is the Spirit that guides the holiness in the humdrum of our ordinary days. The Spirit endows each of us is with gifts with which to serve the community. Some will lead, some will pray, some will preach, some will spend time with the lonely or old or marginalised, some will write, others will encourage, advocate or counsel. There will be the practical and the prayerful, the hands-on doer and the visionary who looks ahead, the prophet who cautions, the mediators and moderators, and those who follow hopefully, the team players, those of us here today. These gifts, in their marvellous variety, glorify and honour the God who loves us.
The reading from the fourth gospel concentrates on love, its joy, the love that bears fruit and the love that lays down its life for friends. Recently, we have celebrated Anzac Day – our annual secularly sacred tribute and commemoration of those who sacrificed their lives so that we may enjoy peace and freedom in Australia today. Gallipoli is seared into our national consciousness where Jack Simpson and his donkey become almost mythological. Mateship becomes another word for love of neighbour.
When thinking of what to say today, I kept coming up with the titles of love songs.
All you need is love.
Love is all around.
Love changes everything.
Love and other bruises.
Where is love?
Love is in the air.
What’s love got to with it?
I’m sure even now you have twenty other titles whirling in your minds – songs so often the soundscape of our lives. This got me pondering about how often we use the word love in our daily parlance and perhaps we cheapen or coarsen its meaning when we use it with such enthusiastic abandon. We might love a dress, a footy team, Richmond, a celebrity, Elvis. We might love certain foods or places or times or events or books or movies. And it’s totally right that we should have passionate preferences. But, in John’s gospel we are brought back to love in its first and greatest incarnation – remaining in the love of God, just as Jesus remained in the love of his Father through obedience to the commandments. This is love that is wide and long and high and deep – everlasting and infinite, not constrained by a human lack of imagination or small-mindedness. It is a love to aim for and to keep aiming for, even when we fall short. However, we know that love is not always easy. It can take practice, time, effort, intention in some areas of our lives. In other areas, our love is abundant and flowing to the things that give our lives meaning; work that satisfies, pastimes that provide contentment, the healing companionship of nature, the joy in knowing that we are loved and needed in the blessings of our family life. The love that John’s Jesus talks about is the love of an expansive, inclusive, merciful nature where we are elevated to a friendship with God because we have been chosen, appointed. We have been tasked with a mission of love – to go out and bear fruit. This means that there is a generativity in what we do, a generous multiplication in building and serving our community. This love is sown in lots of incidental ways in the dailiness of our lives and occasionally in those paramount episodes that define who we are. Our small acts of love, the grace notes in our lives, may be seen or unseen by others, but God knows whether we are loving one another as authentic witnesses to faith or whether we just mouth the words and fail to follow through.
In our fragmented and fragile world, where certainties are being unmoored daily, the question we must ask is How do we love today? This is a question for our times as we are faced with warring ideologies, fake news, revised definitions of truth, the loss of institutional authority, artificial intelligence and ecological fears for our common home … to name a few.
Our faith can be that deep anchor if we follow Jesus’ commandment to love one another – if we share and shoulder together what we can do for our neighbour next door, in the next pew, across the street, across the country, across the oceans. We cannot do everything, but we can do something. More than ever, we need to find that meeting place of encounter and reconciliation, the common ground of our shared humanity, where love conquers all.
The 19th century Danish thinker, Soren Kierkegaard, wrote extensively about Christianity, life and love. In thinking about relationships, he had this observation: ‘[A] relationship comes to the breaking point. There is an argument which separates the two. One breaks it off and says “it is all over between us.”… But the one who loves says: “I abide. We shall yet speak with one another, because silence also belongs to conversation at times.”
The one who loves says – I abide.
The word abide or remain (depending on the Gospel translation) occurs 11 times in Chapter 15 of John’s gospel. We heard it 7 times last week, and in this week’s gospel it occurs on 4 occasions. It is laden with rich meaning – to stand fast, or to live, to dwell, to endure, stay where you and so many more examples.
The opening lines of today’s Gospel remind us that God remains or “abides” (meno) in Christ (depending on the gospel translation). In Jesus, God finds a dwelling place. God remains in unity with Jesus – in life, in death and in resurrection. This is what love looks like, we hear.
Over these past Easter Season weeks, our 21st century hearts and minds have been invited into the struggles and joys of the earliest of the Christian communities. They have sought to make sense of their world in light of the new reality of a risen Christ – a world where, as we hear in today’s first reading, the Holy Spirit falls upon all without favour. Where a renewed understanding of what love looks like is revealed – love that is of God. A love so powerful that it can transform the heart of a persecutor. Love that offers a healing presence that raises people to dignity. A force for good that that makes a difference in people’s lives. This is the love that gentles a fractured world and creates a path for joy. This is a new world vision where the life of the another is as prized as my own.
This is the big imagination that God offers us. A world where all are loved equally – imagine if we took that into our hearts what a difference it would make to who we are as peoples of the world. A world where love breaks through the most hardened of hearts – transforming a heart that sees the world through a lens of violence to one that sees the potential for all to live in peace and harmony. A world we are able to abide/remain together.
This is the invitation of today’s Gospel, I think. And it provides a fertile ground for joy! The spiritual writer, Henri Nouwen, writes that joy is connected to newness: ‘No-one ever says, “Oh, there is old joy again’ he writes, ‘No! there is old sorrow, but there is no old joy. Joy is always new.’
Pope Francis famously observed in Evangelii Gaudium (Joy of the Gospel) that ‘There are Christians whose lives seem like Lent without Easter.’ And the document continues: ‘I realize of course that joy is not expressed the same way at all times in life, especially at moments of great difficulty. Joy adapts and changes, but it always endures, even as a flicker of light born of our personal certainty that, when everything is said and done, we are infinitely loved. (n.6)
But what does it look like for us in this world where terrible and beautiful things happen? I think it looks like the love a parent has when they watch their child make, what they know is a mistake, but opens their arms as a safe harbour when things fall apart. It looks like holding the hand of someone who is suffering. It looks like Autumn – knowing that things will sometimes fall to the ground but that there is an abiding presence that remains no matter what. It is embracing the flicker of hope that dawn brings after the darkest of nights.
A few weeks ago I was driving through the Macedon ranges and a hauntingly beautiful song came through my playlist. It is called Always and contains this line: ‘At any time of day there’s nothing to explain I’m always on your side.’ And I thought that this is an example of the heart that abides. When times are tough at any time of day God requires no explanation of us because God always, always remains in communion with us.
‘[A] relationship comes to the breaking point. There is an argument which separates the two. One breaks it off and says “it is all over between us.”…But the one who loves says: “I abide.”’
May the abiding love of God inspire us to joyful service of each other.
By Cathy Jenkins
Published: 3 May 2024
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Michele Toussaint says:
Cathy your homily was very inspiring, thank you for your lovely word of Wisdom . I was so taken by what you said that joy is always new, I have never thought of this before .
Blessings Michele