Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. I Corinthians 4, NRSV
The pained smile. The back-handed compliment.
The constant reminders of feats accomplished. Superiority flaunted to make others feel their inferiority.
Bad behavior tolerated or excused because of exceptional accomplishment, no matter how it hurts others.
Whether on the giving or receiving end, harm is done and people are left broken. Faith communities and the people in them aren’t immune. They can be torn apart by such things because it diminishes the lives of everyone involved.
Like everything else, I suspect it boils down to a lack of love for one of the big three: God, Self, Other. If we had eyes to see our own value, would we waste any time on worrying how we compared to others? If we had eyes to see the worth of others, wouldn’t we honor that in word and deed?
If we trusted that we were created and loved by God, would any other recognition be necessary?
Sometimes, what we do not do is as powerful as anything we do.
God,give me eyes to see and a heart to love. Amen.
To be kind is to see through the brokenness, the fear, the mistaken assumption that competition is the only true reality; to be kind is to reach for the holy person hiding inside the shell such things create. To be kind is to see the lovable in what looks to all the world unlovable.
To be unkind is to see in even the most beautiful and holy a threat; to be unkind is to forget one’s own holiness, to forget who one truly is.
When we see others for who they truly are, when we know who we truly are, to be kind will be as natural as breathing.
Instant answers via google; next-day delivery; lunch ordered, prepared, and handed over without getting out of the car; they are conveniences that most people take as necessities, and they’ve made the daily practice of patience obsolete.
If love is patient, then patience is a sign of love. Does this mean that loving God, self, and neighbor may be more difficult because we’ve come to value and expect immediacy?
[For the full text, click I Corinthians 13 above.]
If I give away all my possessions, and if I hand over my body so that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing. I Cor. 13:3, NRSV
Lent has arrived, and all kinds of people are giving up alcohol, chocolate, online gaming, and other treasured activities they consider possible vices. All kinds of people are taking on volunteer projects, daily prayer, and exercise – not-so-treasured activities they consider virtues. I have a couple of things in mind myself – ‘Tis the season, right?
It’s so easy to miss the point of these activities, to take them on as some sort of punishment or correction for past mistakes or bad behavior. Even sadder, to imagine that such acts will slide a few of our beads from the negative to the positive side in God’s mighty morality measuring abacus.
The point of these activities is not to diminish ourselves, or to exhaust our bodies, hearts, minds, and souls. It’s the exact opposite: such things can enlarge who we are, granting us a glimpse of God’s transforming love in the face we see in the mirror each morning. But only if we do them as a means to bring about good things, not as a means to hurt ourselves or an attempt to prove that our faith is bigger and better than someone else’s.
So as we begin such things, let’s ask ourselves a simple question: Is this a way to love ourselves, others, and God? If it is, dive right in. If it isn’t, consider this: without love, we gain nothing.
(PS. There is no mighty morality measuring abacus…)
[Paul understood such things, because he did all kinds of these things when he was called Saul – acts without love for others, seeking to correct nonconforming worship practices and punish their practitioners. So he did his best to keep others from making the same mistake. It’s why he wrote this love letter. For the full text, click I Corinthians 13 above.]
If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.
[For full text, click I Corinthians 13 above.]
Let’s assume I have good intentions, and my wishes for prophetic powers, perfect understanding and knowledge, and abiding faith are all answered. All I lack is love – meaning good things for others and sacrificing to bring them to fruition. I could still do so much good if I don’t use my gifts to harm, couldn’t I?
Doubtful. Not because I couldn’t accomplish amazing things, but because I’ll miss the point and purpose of those amazing things. Intelligence, knowledge, accurate prediction, and belief aren’t enough. Add them all up, and they still won’t give me the one thing I need: wisdom.
Wisdom assumes love – it’s why there are evil geniuses but no evil wise women and men. If I perform miracles without love for every living thing, I’m likely to manipulate others rather than invest in their uniqueness.
Wisdom recognizes limitations. Amazing abilities take their toll if fueled only from personal resources. The well runs dry eventually because no one is meant to live outside loving relationships with God and others. A car with an empty tank cannot fulfill its potential, even if it’s a top-of-the-line model.
Without love, I would be destroyed by my own abilities, a null and void self – nothing. God being gracious to everyone else, whatever I did manage to accomplish would bring blessing. God being gracious to me, creating me to be something rather than nothing, the wish wouldn’t be granted in the first place.
If I speak in the tongues of mortals and angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.
Words have the power to shape reality, pointing us to what is good and holy and staring us in the face. Words have the power to maim reality, and wound all that is good and holy and seeking life. What I say to you and about you, what you say to me and about me – these words matter.
As I write, the airways are full of words and the Ukraine full of violence. A string of words from a powerful leader, words without love or thought for the lives that will be lost and damaged, has put this whole world on a dark path. The noise of gongs and the crashing of cymbals, the whistle of bombs and report of gunfire are in that string of words without love.
What words can I say or write? How can I speak a quiet word of love in the cacophony of loveless syllables? Without love, my words will add to the destruction – no matter how beautifully or cleverly I craft them.
I best watch my tongue and do my best to speak love in this time that most desperately needs to hear it.
But strive for the greater gifts. And I will showyou a still more excellent way.
I Corinthians 12:31, NRSV
It didn’t take long for the gathering of believers in Corinth to receive gifts from the Holy Spirit – wisdom, knowledge, care of souls, speaking in tongues, interpretation of tongues, prophecy, etc. It wasn’t long after that the measuring began: Who had the best, flashiest gifts? Who had the worthiest ones? About a second later, the comparisons set in: People with the better gifts were elevated above those whose gifts weren’t quite so shiny or noticeable. Pride and shame were handed out with the gift evaluations and comparisons. When Paul got wind of it, he did what he could: he wrote a letter.
Before he waxed poetic on love (the part we all know from weddings and anniversary cards), he offered a few choice words about this comparison game in play. He made short work of those who thought flashy and obvious meant greater value of gift and person”
Gifts were given to individuals to enrich the group, not as markers of individual holiness or worth.
The flashier ones aren’t worth much unless they do more than create a scene – they have to deepen the faith of the community, just like every other gift.
Just like a body has many parts, and the parts have different functions, a church has many gifts. All are needed, none are useless.
If you think this is all about gifts, you have really missed the point.
I’d like to think I’ve never whipped out a measuring stick, or compared my gifts with the gifts of others as a way to judge some as superior and some as inferior. Sadly, I’m pretty sure I’ve played the comparison game.
Valentine’s Day decorations are still up in windows, on shelves, and in the 75% off aisles of Target and Market Basket. Yet, less than a week beyond the day, it all seems a bit half-hearted and tattered. If love is strong, such things are a nice extra, but not necessary; if love is not strong, even extravagant trimmings can’t fill the void.
It’s a truth we all know but don’t often say aloud: love has to be more than a fleeting feeling and a paper doily heart. It’s time for something constant and substantial, something strong enough to steady our feet and grow us up.
It’s a letter that was never meant to be reduced to romantic love, no matter how often it is read at weddings. It’s Paul’s letter to an entire community that was playing the Whose gift is best? game. As we view Valentine’s Day in the rearview mirror and move forward into Lent, let’s take another look at this old, old-fashioned love letter from Paul…
If I speak in the tongues of mortals and angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away all my possessions, and if I hand over my body so that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.
Love is patient, love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude.
It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth.
It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
Love never ends. But as for prophesies, they will come to an end; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will come to an end.
For we know only in part, and we prophesy only in part; but when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways.
For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully even as I have been fully known.
And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.
It’s been a bookmark of mine for a few years, this card sent by friends. I love the John quote and the image of a candle in a hurricane glass shining its light on the world beyond the window.
Beautiful as they are, candles require attention or they can create quite a waxen mess. If left unattended, they can burn the house down. There’s a power to their warmth and light that can be destructive, even deadly, if neglected or used with ill intent.
Candlelight is a good image for the faith I share with the world. If I don’t tend to this faith in love, if I proclaim things to be good, true, and holy without love for the life outside the window, I’m as apt to burn things down as I am to shed illumination. If I keep the light to myself, well away from view, it does no one any good but me. I have to tend to it, or it won’t shine for very long.
Another thing: I have to remember that I’m not the only one who was given such a light. When I’m walking in the dark, it just may be someone else’s candle in the window that illuminates my path forward.
Love is in the air around here. Valentine’s Day is around the corner, chocolate and candies line store shelves, and a shocking amount of pink and red hearts are plastered everywhere. But that kind of love is not really what this card is requesting.
Love of any kind takes a lot of work and patience to foster. The emotional high we get from a new romance, the thrill at the birth of a child, or the emotional fuzzies exchanged with close friends don’t have a long shelf life if we store them in our inner cupboards like the canned goods in our kitchens. True love in any of its forms is a living presence that requires intentional attention and faithful nurturing. It is a gift from God, sent from above. But it’s a cutting from a living tree more than a figurine in a pretty box. It requires the very essence of who we are if it is to grow – and if we are to grow with it.
Perhaps that’s why it’s a dove and a spray of greenery and flowers – a reminder that our prayers for love are answered, but only come to life when we commit ourselves to love’s flourishing.
