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Homilies by Rev. Andrew Collis unless indicated otherwise.

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Ordinary Sunday 30, Year A
South Sydney Uniting Church
October 29, 2017

Psalm 90; Matthew 22:34-46

‘God is the middle term’

God is the middle term (Søren Kierkegaard, Works of Love, 1847). It’s not that God gets in the way of my loving you (as any object of affection or idol might), but that I love you with whatever God-given strength I can muster. God be with you …

It makes sense that the first commandment read: “You must love the Most High God with all your heart, with all your soul and with all your mind.”

Elsewhere in the New Testament we read that “God is love” (1 John 4:8). Jesus is teaching the same thing here in Matthew 22 (also Luke 10). Love calls to love; love answers to love. “When one has once fully entered the realm of love, the world – no matter how imperfect – becomes rich and beautiful; it consists solely of opportunities for love” (Søren Kierkegaard). Sing, dance, paint, build, make, do, share love. I love you with whatever God-given strength I can muster.

Jesus, as we know, cites a second commandment: “You must love your neighbour as yourself.”

Books and books have been written on this concept of neighbour-love. My neighbour is the very next person I see. My neighbour is a figure in space and time, the one beside me, before me; the one yet to come – “all people/ those both far and near”. My neighbour is a human being, a co-creator, a fellow creature, a kindred spirit … And much has been written in respect of the qualifier, “as yourself” – implying some degree of self-care, self-love, lest we distort love in a show of adoration for another, an unhealthy selflessness, a self-loathing, or submission to another’s dominance, even cruelty.

The two commandments run side by side. They do not pull apart (their unity is seen in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus). According to Jesus, the commandments from Deuteronomy 6:5 and Leviticus 19:18 are foundational. Upon them stands the whole of the Torah – the teaching, instruction or way of Jewish life and faith.

God as the middle term might also be understood, then, as “neighbour-love”. I love you with whatever God-given strength I can muster. I “neighbour-love” you! And we can explore this with reference to our likes and dislikes.

There are some people I find easy to like. They are attractive to me for whatever reason. I enjoy their company. I like the way they seem to like me. They are my friends. You will have your own examples of those for whom you readily feel affection: brothers, sisters, parents, friends, coworkers, lovers, spouses, children, grandchildren, animal companions … We probably don’t think we need a commandment to love in such circumstances. We feel that we love naturally.

So, why command a “neighbour-love” of friend, spouse, parent, child?

Perhaps to remind us of radical kinship, equality before God. Be loving toward your beautiful/attractive friend/spouse as one who is like yourself (see Martin Buber, Franz Rosenzweig). She is not your possession. She has a life and calling just as you do. She is prone to change in appearance, change of opinion, emotion … just as you are. I neighbour-love you means I love you for you, and not for what I hope to gain from you. I let you, my friend, be you. I let you, my beloved child, niece, nephew, become the one God loves …

And then, of course, there are some people I find difficult to like. I may dislike them. They disturb or scare me for whatever reason. I find their company, real or imagined, challenging. I’m not sure they like me. They are acquaintances, strangers, foreigners, enemies. You will have your own examples of those for whom you feel no easy affection. Perhaps you just don’t know them or understand their needs.

The commandment to love in such circumstances instructs me in reality beyond my own small and immediate concerns. I am commanded to show respect, to consider the rights of others – as worthy as I am worthy of respect, of dignity – to shelter, clothing, food and drink, healthcare, meaningful work, justice, peace, forgiveness, a future. I am called to respond, and thus to responsibility.

It’s more than a call to duty. It’s transformative. It changes me. It may even, over time, change the way I feel, and alter my sense of the beautiful.

But regardless of that, and more than that, it changes the neighbourhood. In some way the neighbourhood expands. You let me, a stranger, find a place of belonging. You let me, your opponent, competitor, challenger, become the one God loves.

Most deeply and broadly, God is love and love is God, the middle term. Our emotions, actions and commitments sit within, arise from and aspire to God. And in the power of this love, I like you becomes I neighbour-love you. I dislike you becomes I neighbour-love you. Hearts are transformed. The neighbourhood becomes a more just and equitable place.

[Note: This doesn’t mean that everybody becomes my friend or intimate companion. Perhaps that’s a very self-centred idea anyway.]

The last part of the Gospel is about the Messiah. If the Messiah (the One who brings the message and means of peace/healing/wholeness) is not in any straightforward sense a descendant of David (a royal, military or aristocratic figure), the way is open for a messianic neighbour. The Messiah, then, is one just like me. Just like you. One of us.

What moves you towards greater freedom and fuller life with others? … Amen.


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