A sermon preached at Guildford Cathedral on the First Sunday of Lent - which this year falls on 14th February. Thinking about the impact of Valentine's Day on the popular - and Christian - imagination is a salutary thing in Surrey. On the one hand, Weybridge was named as the most romantic place in Britain in a survey revealing couples spent £235- or nearly four times the national average - on Valentine's Day gifts. On the other hand, arrest rates for domestic violence across all 43 forces, which caused concern and including training/development needs for the sake of victim safety. Love that is real condemns abuse and goes beyond material gifts. My colleague Helen Dawes sparked some thoughts by her Tweet this morning! However, in today's readings Romans 10:8b-13; Luke 4: 1-13, we focus on how God loves us and what that might mean for each human 'I love you'.
The first Tweet I read today said: is it happy Valentine's Day or
gloomy first Sunday of Lent? @revhelend
My reply was: Or subverting Valentine's Day and saying something
joyful about love of God on first Sunday of Lent? Far from gloomy @GuildCath
Today's readings draw us into the reality of love, which is far
from gloomy. We subvert the cliches and
excess; the flowers and chocolates. And we glimpse a love that is so real it
vulnerable. It bears our hurts and increases our capacity for joy. God's love
is the first breath and the last word. It reconciles, strengthens, waits and
transforms. God chooses to love us by becoming one of us. It's a reality that
subverts and deepens our human 'I love you'.
It's such a simple sentence.
Three monosyllables.
Subject. Verb. Object.
I love you.
It's such a familiar phrase: longed for, expected, demanding or
routine.
Developers of auto-correct technology for our smart phones and
tablets have analyzed billions of key strokes. They tell us that the most
commonly typed sentence is: I love you.
As Joe Moran says in the Guardian Review: 'all those millions
upon million of what seem... to be inimitable feelings, with
intricate emotional histories behind them, condenses into the same three-word
chorus.'
I love you.
It's enough: reassuring words; habitual words; an everyday sign
off.
It's freighted with meaning: a grand gesture; a formal
declaration.
I love you: the intimate becomes the universal.
It's layered with excess: the Truly, Madly, Deeply of love expressed in some of our films.
It's open to manipulation and control: anyone listening to The
Archers senses unease and fear when Rob Titchener expresses his love for Helen.
Three words: I love you.
It's a sentiment that is relentless extended: Gonerel declares
to Lear that she loves him 'more than words can wield the matter'.
It's given and expressed within the limits of our relationships.
Lear's youngest daughter rejects the competitive excess. She knows she's not poor in love. Her love is
'bigger than her words'. Yet, when faced with transaction and conditions; with
rhetorical word play to gain a greater share of the kingdom, there is nothing
that she can add.
She loves as a child should love a father, neither more nor less.
Love, obedience and honour: half as daughter, half as wife.
If love is bound by conditions, what more can she say?
What can be added to 'I love you'?
Cordelia utters painful, honest truth: 'Nothing, my Lord.'
At church weddings, couples increasingly seek out non-biblical
readings to give expression to their love. Perhaps the nursery rhyme
familiarity of The Owl and the Pussy Cat adds a quirky edge to their personal
commitment. Perhaps the image of entwined tree roots in Captain Corelli's
Mandolin says it better than they could. One couple reverted to The Velveteen
Rabbit. Perhaps it's the safety of a children's book that renders the inexpressible cost of love, say-able. Perhaps it's still a favourite of
grandparents and babysitters.
The Velveteen Rabbit longs to be real. In the nursery he seeks the wisdom of one of
the oldest toys. How can he be real?
'Real isn't how you are made,' said the Skin Horse. 'It's a thing
that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long long time, not just to
play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.'
'Does it hurt?' asked the Rabbit.
'Sometimes,' said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful.
'When you are Real you don't mind being hurt'.
In Luke's Gospel, we have already learnt that Jesus is conceived by the
Spirit; he is baptised with that same Spirit. Now that same Spirit leads him in
the wilderness. The Spirit fills Jesus and the Spirit guides him. Here in the
desert, Jesus commitments himself to loving the world. Tempted as we are - yet
without that fracturing of relationship, or selfish desire, that we call sin.
In the weakness of our flesh, God loves in a
way that it so real it hurts; so real it saves.
The Temptation In The Wilderness
Briton Riviere (1898)
Guildhall Art Gallery, London
The devil's questions, prompts and offers to Jesus are lens
through which we see the power of love.
In the human frailty of hunger, Jesus faces the relentless psychological
nagging 'if you are the Son of God do x or y.'
Satisfy your hunger!
No, says Jesus, for we are sustained not by
bread alone. No, I will not love the world simply by satiating physical
desires; by refusing to go deeper into human longings; by colluding with
greed. Love that gets to the heart of
our needs and hopes, that is real.
Accept earthly power!
No, says Jesus, seizing glory and authority
in that way is not God's way of loving. Resorting to domination on someone
else's terms is not real love. Love that
coerces and bullies a response isn't real.
Attention to God in worship is the beginning of love; serving others by
attending to their needs, that's real love.
This is love that walks the way of grief and exclusion; transforming it
into joy and welcome.
Perform a dramatic stunt!
No, says Jesus, I won't take a short cut. I
won't put God to the test in that way. Real love doesn't change human hearts by
performing feats of reckless showmanship. Such love is superficial and
fleeting: it doesn't forgive or heal; it doesn't challenge or embrace.
Three times, Jesus chose to serve God.
Three times he rejected
the temptations power and security.
This is what God's love looks like: it
doesn't dominate or seek easy wins. It's
a love that walks the way of the cross. It's a love that is our ultimate
reality. A love that overcomes pain, sorrow and death itself.
And if that's how God loves, then it's how we should love too.
This is the word that is near us; that is to be on our heart and on our
lips. It is a word of love that shapes
our community; it is the assurance that our fears and hopes are held in his
generous love.
Paul reminds the Romans that this has three implications:
We can have confidence in what we believe: we confess that Jesus
is Lord; we proclaim that God raised him from the dead.
We are to be messengers of God's grace: rather than being
self-sufficient, we are to draw on his love, living out of
that well-spring. As one of our
confirmation candidates put it 'God is our daily basis'. God is our all - our beginning and end;
the one in whom we live and move and have our being. The one who gives us
breath; and teaches us love that is real.
We are to rejoice in the breadth and depth of God's love for us,
and all people: there is no distinction between Jew and Gentile. In Christ, God is faithful in fulfilling the
promise to his people Israel - that all nations will come to his light.
There is no distinction or partiality in the love we celebrate
today: whatever our ethnicity, status, age, popularity, knowledge, experience.
All those 'implicit' tribal identities are swept away as we kneel and receive
the gifts of God's love: in broken bread, in out poured wine, in signs of God's
blessing we hear God say 'I love you'.
The Skin Horse tells the Velveteen Rabbit that becoming real
takes a long time: 'your hair has been loved off, your eyes drop out and you
get loose in the joints and very shabby.'
And Toby says: 'you were right, Rabbit. Love makes us real'.
In Jesus Christ, God tells us that love that is real bears all
things to the agony of the cross and the silence of the grave. In the power of the Spirit, we are called to
love that way too: bearing the weak; forgiving hurts; challenging the strong;
growing in trust, and encouraging each other.
May the God's word of love be on heart and lips.
May the love we celebrate this Lent,
make us real.
© Julie Gittoes 2016
