Ever since Adam and Eve strolled the Garden of Eden, God has given us commandments to encourage us to live a godly life. Starting with that first commandment to be fruitful and multiply, the number of commandments seems to have exploded as we humans drifted farther and farther away from God, so much so that it’s said that there are 613 commandments in the Old Testament. As a result, it was pretty common in Jesus’ time for people to risk-rank and debate the importance of each commandment. It’s no surprise, then, that a scholar of the law would ask Jesus which of the commandments is the greatest. “Whether sincere or conniving, [he was] asking the core question of every human life: ‘What’s it all about?’ ‘What does God expect from humanity?’”[1]
Shrewd as he is, Jesus refuses to name just one. Rather, he links the greatest commandment from Deuteronomy—“You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind—with the second greatest from Leviticus—“You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” He doesn’t just leave it there, though, Jesus specifically notes that these two commandments are “like” each other, they’re intertwined. “By saying that love of the other was akin to love of God, Jesus declared that they were inextricably bound together creating a lifestyle of love.”[2]
Perplexed, no doubt, we ask, “How are these two commandments linked?” Sure, we understand the love God part, but our neighbor? All of them? Really? Yes. You’ll recall from Genesis that we humans are created in the image and likeness of God. That means that our human dignity is given to us by God; we don’t develop it on our own; and we certainly don’t get it from anyone else. If every person is created in the image and likeness of God, then it follows that we must honor the image and likeness of God in every person. We honor it, by loving them. If for no other reason, human beings are still lovable because we’re created in God’s image and likeness.[3]
Every one of us is called to love God and our neighbor every day of our lives, but do we? One look at the news, Facebook posts, and blog comments and the answer seems to be no, especially when it comes to people whose lifestyles, religions, and political opinions differ from our own. Don’t get me wrong, there’s no issue with disagreeing or challenging an opinion or behavior. In fact, we’re called to speak out against falsehoods, immorality, and injustice in all of their forms, and doing so is one way to love God and our neighbor. However, when our disagreements turn into ad hominem attacks, invective directed against the person rather than the position or action, then we’re not loving our neighbor, and we’re not loving God. Part of our sinful inclination leads us sometimes to approach life like it’s the Hunger Games. We see everyone else as a potential enemy, so we strike first, and we strike hard. But let me let you in on a little lawyer secret: You know you’ve won an argument when your opponents resort to ad hominem attacks. It means that they’ve run out of legal, moral, and intellectual arguments to counter yours, and they have nothing left but to attack you personally. I’ll also let you in on a little Jesus secret: “Whenever [we] draw a line between us and them, bear in mind that Jesus is on the other side of that line”[4] loving our neighbor. Our Gospel and our first reading affirm that we’re called to love everyone, especially those who are different from us. “Without loving contact with people whose experience, culture, [opinions], or faith tradition stretches us, we can live trapped in a self-affirming hall of mirrors.”[5] Loving others, then, makes us better people by making us more like the God who loves them first and best.
Can we really love everyone? Of course, we can. Jesus became human, in part, to show us how. But let’s be clear about what we mean by love. Love, as Thomas Aquinas tells us, is “to will the good of the other.” It’s to want what God wants for our neighbors—all that is good. We don’t have to like people to love them. We don’t have to be all huggy-kissy with people to will that they have, are, and do all that is good. We know that some people can be physically or psychologically dangerous to us, and we may need to keep our distance from them. But we can still love them, even if from afar. God doesn’t give us commandments we can’t keep. As our Psalm tells us, “God always blesses us with his help to fulfill our tasks and every mission entrusted to us.” [6] When faced with a Chain of Fools, be Willing to Forgive, or Try a Little Tenderness, and love them instead. Before lashing out in anger at the most inane online commentators, Think, Say a Little Prayer, and love them instead. When tempted to make a derogatory comment or label people pejoratively, turn to Jesus’ Rock Steady example for strength, like the Thessalonians in our second reading, and love them instead. Imitation is the highest form of flattery, and with God, our highest form of love. If we imitate Christ, we’ll love God and our neighbor, we’ll live United Together, and we’ll ride God’s Freeway of Love into eternal life.
The song that made Aretha Franklin famous became the title song of her first number one album that was released later that year. No fewer than 5 songs on that album have become Aretha Franklin classics, but one song stands above the rest. An instant hit single itself, that song became an anthem to the Civil Rights and Women’s Rights movements. In her own words, that song “reflected the need of a nation, the need of the average man and woman in the street, the businessman, the mother, the fireman, the teacher.” And guess what? The one-word title of that song is the perfect first-step on the journey to a loving lifestyle. The keen-eared among may have noticed that the first letter of each of the seven paragraphs of this homily spells out the name of that song. For those who missed it, if you want to love God by loving our neighbor, start with a little R—E—S—P—E—C—T.
Readings: Exodus 22: 20-26; Psalm 18; 1 Thessalonians 1:5c-10; Matthew 22: 34-40
[1] Mary M. McGlone, “A Call in Two Dimensions,” in National Catholic Reporter 57, no. 1 (October 16-29, 2020), 19.
[2] McGlone, 19.
[3] William Barclay, The Gospel of Matthew, 2 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2001), 324.
[4] Reverend Susan Schneider.
[5] McGlone, 19.
[6] Jeffrey Cole, ed., The Didache Bible (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2014), 622, note.
