"The Practice of Love"

"The Practice of Love" FPC 1/31/10

Psalm 71:1-6, 1 Corinthians 13:1-13

          True story. On January 22, a woman visiting the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City, lost her balance and fell into a painting by Pablo Picasso. The woman was fine, but can you imagine going home afterwards? “How was your day, honey?” “Good, except for falling into a Picasso . . .  I did get to see the painting up close, really  close.” This poor soul tore a six-inch gash into a priceless  work of art. Fortunately, all was not lost. The museum issued a press release stating, “The damage did not occur in the focal point of the composition and the curatorial and conservation staffs fully expect that the repair--which will take place in the coming weeks--will be unobtrusive.” (nytimes.com, Jan. 24, 2010)

          As I read  Paul’s magnificent writing in 1 Corinthians 13, and as I worked on this sermon, my first goal was not to cause damage to a masterpiece. I’m tempted to say, “Okay, friends. Let’s all reread chapter 13 and try to do what Paul says.” But at the risk of ripping a gash into something holy, we plunge ahead trusting the Curator to repair any damage. 

          As beautiful as his words are, Paul does not write just to provide mood music for weddings. As we talked about a couple of weeks ago, Paul writes to address problems in the Corinthian church. One scholar says, “The Corinthian Christians are abusing their freedom, refusing to share, scorning their neighbors’ spiritual gifts, boasting in their own gifts, seeking recognition for themselves, and jockeying for position in the church. (Lewis F. Galloway, Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year C, Vol. 1, 302.) It sounds like an impossible set of challenges, doesn’t it? But we remember Paul writes to a church he loves. A church made up of its own particular blend of faithfulness and unfaithfulness. A church called together and blessed by Christ. A church that needs encouragement and correction. A church that, in some ways, may seem familiar to you and me.

          We’re going to spend a few minutes simply exploring this chapter section by section, looking at key words and phrases, listening for God to speak a new word for our time and place. 

          “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.” You remember one of the “black ice,” slippery patches for the Corinthian Christians is their conceit about speaking in tongues. Well, Paul does not skate around the issue. He says without love as the motivator, any kind of speaking, whether it comes from people or even from the angels, is just “The Gong Show,” nothing more than a screechy-cat cymbal. And any prophetic power, or understanding, or knowledge, or powerful faith without love is nothing, worthless, meaningless. And even if we give away all that we have, doling it out piece by piece, and even if we hand over our body (the same word used for Jesus being handed over for crucifixion!) even if we hand over our bodies, without love, we gain nothing. Love must be what activates whatever we do or whatever we do is worthless.

          Preacher William Sloane Coffin says, “Shortly after World War II the Dutch leaders in Java realized that their empire, the third largest in the world, was tumbling down around them. The Indonesians really wanted them out of their lovely emerald islands. Said the Governor General to Laurens van der Post, ‘I cannot understand it. Look what we have done for them. Look at the schools and hospitals we have given them. A hundred years ago the population was only a few millions, today it is nearly 60 millions. We have done away with malaria, plague, dysentery and given them a prosperous, balanced economy. Everyone has enough to eat. We have given  them honest and efficient administration and abolished civil war and piracy. Look at the roads, the railways, the industries–and yet they want us to go. Can you tell me why they want us to go?’

          “Answered van der Post: ‘I am afraid it is because when you spoke to them you never had the right look in your eye.’”

          Coffin writes, “When Jesus looked at that rich young ruler, or at the woman caught in adultery, or the Canaanite woman, or any one of the many children that were brought to him to bless, his eyes shone not only with love but with respect, as for equals. Jesus never looked down on anyone.” (William Sloane Coffin, “The Wrong Look In Our Eyes” a sermon preached Oct. 4, 1987.)

          Unless love motivates and activates what we say and do, and people know we respect them as equals, then all that we say and do is for naught. As the United States and the world continue to help rebuild Haiti, possibly even helping the people to refashion their government, respect as equals must shine through or all our efforts will be a noisy gong.

          Paul says, “Love is patient.” The word “patient” means “to remain tranquil while waiting  . . . to bear up under provocation without complaint.” I suppose that’s how we usually think of the word. But as one of my old professors points out, “When Paul calls [the Corinthians] to be patient he is calling them to be patient with the other person’s right to be other.” (David L. Bartlett, “Love Is Patient And Kind,” a sermon preached Jan. 30, 1977.) By patience, Paul is telling the Corinthians they cannot demand that everybody speak in tongues or do everything their way. Instead, Paul calls the Corinthians and us to patience that not only tolerates differences but celebrates them.

          So when our session or deacons or church teams meet it’s okay that we do not always agree. When decisions are made that affect the whole church it’s fine that we do not all hold the same opinion. Paul says when we tolerate and celebrate our differences we’re being patient. And love is patient.

          Love is also kind. The word means merciful and loving. And again, Paul does not use this word merely to launch us into some poetic stratosphere. Instead, kindness determines the very nature of our community. And, it seems to me, when Paul talks about not being envious, boastful, arrogant, or rude, not insisting on our own way, not being resentful, all of these may very well fall under being kind.

          Love is kind. In other words, love is gentle and merciful. In the church when we’re kind we treat the secretaries and custodians as well as we treat the clergy, kids as well as the church elders, and pew-sitters as well as the go-getters. We let go of grudges, not being jealous about what others have, not bragging about ourselves, not whining, griping, and grumping. When we offer critique, we offer it as lovingly as we can, focusing on the positive as much as we can. We’re as gentle and merciful with each other as possible. Love is gentle. Love is kind.

          And love never ends. Paul says prophecies, tongues, knowledge, everything else ends. But not love. Love never ends.

          Preaching professor Tom Long says, “A minister friend of mine in Atlanta at a downtown church planned one evening to go out to eat with his wife to celebrate their anniversary. His wife met him at the church, and the two of them headed out to the parking lot to take the car to the restaurant. But when they got outside they encountered a crisis. An elderly woman . . . was kneeling on the sidewalk beside a man, her husband as it turns out, who was lying on his back in pain clutching his chest. My friend’s wife ran  . . . back into the church to call an ambulance, and my friend leaned over to comfort the man. ‘We have called for some help and they will be here soon  . . . ,’ he began, but the man interrupted him.

          “‘Charlie, forgive me,’ the man said.

          “‘I’m not Charlie,’ my friend said. ‘My name is Sam.’ What Sam did not know until later is that Charlie was the man’s son, and years before, the man had, in rage over something, disowned Charlie, and the two had not spoken in years.

          “The man looked up at Sam and reached out and touched his hand. ‘Charlie, please, forgive me.’

          “‘Just relax,’ Sam said. ‘Somebody will be here soon to get you to the hospital.’

          “But the man suddenly clutched in terrible pain, and it was now clear that he would not make it to the hospital. With his last gasping energy he pulled on Sam’s arm and begged, ‘Charlie, please, forgive me.’

          “Sam followed his faithful instinct, reached out and put his hand on the man’s forehead as a blessing and said, ‘I do forgive you. I do forgive you.’ Those were the last words the man ever heard in this life.

          “Later . . . Sam wondered if he had done the right thing. ‘I am not his son. The relationship was still broken. What right did I have to grant forgiveness?’ . . .Then it came to him that his whole ministry was about this, that the whole Christian faith is about this.” (Thomas G. Long, Preaching from Memory to Hope, 125-126.)

          Love never ends. And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.” Amen.