Love is many things -- romantic, reliable, lifesaving, bonding, exciting, calm and relaxed. It means never having to say you're sorry. Well, that's what a book and movie back in the 1960s declared. That book was called "Love Story." I thought the star of that movie, Ali McGraw, was just about the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen.
Love is our anchor in life, in more ways than one. We are, ideally, conceived in love. Our parents love us from the beginning, before we are born. As we grow into adolescence, we seek a different kind of love, mostly because of raging hormones, and eventually, if we are lucky, from that fire of romance evolves a more stable, lasting relationship that's also born of love. We also develop friends along the way and there is love in that relationship as well. So, parents, friends, romance and eventually, spouse.
Those are all human relationships. Then there's the greatest love of all. The Hebrews call it hesed -- steadfast, rock-solid faithfulness. We say that God is love, and hesed is the love of God, the love that forgives us as soon as we are truly repentant, time after time, patiently waiting for us to see the error of our ways. It's like the love of the father who welcomed his prodigal son home after he squandered his inheritance in the parable Jesus told his disciples.
It's a completely unconditional and completely undeserved love. Not "you have to earn my love and respect," but "I love you no matter what and when you come back to me, I'll be waiting with open arms."
And like their word for "hear," the Hebrew hesed is more than just a fluttery feeling in your breast or a warm sense of anticipation while waiting for a phone call or a date with your beloved. It's what the angels do as they eternally contemplate and adore God. It's what God does when he answers our prayers and anticipates our needs.
We are commanded to love the Lord "with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength." Actually, that greatest command, Shema, begins with ve'ahavta (veh-a-hav-TAH) which literally means "and you shall love." It's a command, not an observation. We should be lovesick when we think of God, like the 13-year-old whose first "crush" renders him nearly incapable of functioning because his mind wanders back repeatedly and inevitably to the object of that intense emotion -- echad, or the only one. And that only one is God.
I did gain from Chapter 3 some new insight about Christian experience that is not a particularly Catholic thing. Apparently there are "spiritual infatuation addicts" who wander from church to church looking for" the right combination of a tear-evoking message and heart-swelling music to float away in a spiritual euphoria." According to the author, this worshipful ecstasy is referred to as "the feeling" and it becomes all that matters -- not the faith community or any kind of reflection or response to God's word, just a seeking of that euphoria. Like an addict seeks the next high.
No, loving God is more than seeking warm fuzzy feelings or the next spiritual high. It requires an element of loyalty, a response that involves putting aside our own needs to attend to someone else's need (like parenting).
God is loving and forgiving, but also jealous, not inclined to share us with false idols. Loving God means putting him and him alone into the center of our lives. And it means responding to what he gives us, not just sitting back with our hands out waiting for more. So loving your enemy doesn't mean you have to like him, just that you should treat them as you would anyone, with respect and dignity, by praying for them and doing good for them instead of exacting revenge. Now there's a human failing -- revenge. It eats at us, it motivates us to action, but not in a good way.
Why doesn't love motivate us to do good with the kind of intensity that hatred can move us to seek revenge?
And loving God with all your heart? The ancient Hebrews thought of the heart as the center of our very being. So loving God (or a spouse, or child, or anyone else) with all your heart means with loving with everything you've got. That's the title of this post -- your very what? It's just that. The last line of the commandment to love God is: Love the Lord with all of your heart, all of your soul, and all of your very. The word "very" is rarely used as a noun, but it is in this case. It's all of your might, your zeal, your passion, your oomph.
In Mark, Shema has four components -- heart, soul, mind, and strength. In Matthew, it's three -- heart, soul and mind. That's because Jesus didn't speak Greek, but Hebrew. But the Gospel writers translated into Greek what they understood Jesus to be saying.
Which is what we do today, and which is why there are so many translations of God's word and probably why there are so many Christian denominations and offshoots.
The next part of Chapter 3 also provided new insight. It spoke of mammon as part of me'od, or "very." Mammon, of course, refers to money and posessions. How do we love God with our money? The assumption is that you use it to meet the needs of those less fortunate, and you use it to support your church. But the author speaks of using your money with integrity. In other words, by pointing out to a sales clerk that she undercharged you, just as you would point out that she overcharged you, and paying the difference. By being honest on your tax returns. By decreasing your bottom line instead of exploiting a questionable financial opportunity. By leaving your contact information on the windshield of the car you accidentally ding in the parking lot. In other words, love God with your money by being honest, using it wisely and not cheating anyone or exploiting others to their detriment and your benefit.
The chapter also talks about how Jewish scholars memorize the entire Torah, an overwhelming task by any standard. But the author points out that most of us can rattle off lyrics for thousands of pop songs, commercials and other nonsense in a volume that may not be exactly equivalent, but comparable. Which says embarrassing things about what our priorities are today. In fact, it's remarkably close to the message we heard at our parish mission last week about giving up distractions to focus on what's important.
Giving up distractions? Isn't that why we celebrate Lent in the first place?
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