Thursday of the Ninth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 356

One of the scribes came to Jesus and asked him,
"Which is the first of all the commandments?"
Jesus replied, "The first is this:
Hear, O Israel!
The Lord our God is Lord alone!

Eighty years have passed since June 6, 1944. We cannot begin to reflect on today's suggested readings without recalling D=Day. Many observers believe we are on the brink of another international conflict as Russia has continued its assault on Ukraine, and China seeks to expand its military sway over the Pacific Ocean. Meanwhile, nationalism, xenophobia, and racism reappear in Europe and find deep sympathy in the United States. 

And so our reflections turn to the Lord's dual command. You must love God; you must love your neighbor. Many suppose they can choose between the two commands.

Humanists insist that God -- "if there is a God" -- needs no love as their notion of God is supremely sufficient within himself. Sacrifices for God's sake mean nothing and religious rites address only God's infinite indifference to human suffering. Their loyalties, they say, belong to their neighbors. 

On the other hand, some religious persons strive to placate the overwhelming supremacy of God by focussing all of their affection on him. If the Lord our God is Lord alone, then we must cower before this infinitely powerful, infinitely demanding Presence whose very being commands total submission. 

Jesus' dual command is a remarkable insight, a spiritual breakthrough greater than Darwin's evolutionary theory or Einstein's relativity. If the world's philosophers and theologians had discerned either law before his time -- that we should worship God or love our neighbor -- no one had seen that they are inseparable. It is not possible to love God without loving one's neighbor, and your love for God measures your love of others. As you love your neighbor, you love your God. No more, no less. 

It was there in the Law of Moses, the protests of the prophets, and the teachings of the sages, but no one had put it as succinctly. 

In his first letter, Saint John reflects on Jesus's dual command. He speaks of Jesus's teaching with strong language.  

Whoever says he is in the light, yet hates his brother, is still in the darkness. Whoever loves his brother remains in the light, and there is nothing in him to cause a fall. Whoever hates his brother is in darkness; he walks in darkness and does not know where he is going because the darkness has blinded his eyes. (1 John 2:9-11)

The Evangelist John uses the word hate, which may be the ugliest word in American English. No pious person will use it in their confession, despite whatever might be transpiring between themselves and others. They might admit dislike or resentment but it's hard to say, "I hate so-and-so." 

But, do you avoid certain people or groups of people? Is your life so securely segregated and your world so gated that you never encounter people unlike yourself? Perhaps your present anxieties are the result of past betrayals you've yet to remember, resolve, and forgive? Forgetting ancient past sins is not the same as atoning for them. Sometimes we forget too soon.

Recently, I experienced an old wound reopened and an ancient resentment restored to new life. The individual might have been a despised Lazarus escaped from his tomb and reentering my world. Hate is not too strong a word for my response. Now that he is removed again, and reconciliation is neither desired or sought, I have only that experience to remind me of my failed virtue. Wars are triggered by less provocation than that. 

The continuing presence of local crimes and international wars must remind us that we've yet to love God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength. And I have not yet loved anyone with the passion I reserve for myself.