Love Trumps Everything

 

I Corinthians 13

 

            You may have noticed something missing in our readings for today. We didn’t read the second lesson, from I Corinthians 13. Commonly known as the love chapter, it is one of the most well-known passages in the Bible.

 

            I left that out on purpose. I wanted to talk about that passage first, because I think there’s something missing in the way we have traditionally looked at those verses. We may be missing a key point because of the way we have read them.

 

            This really is an amazing chapter. If people paid attention to what Paul is saying, there would be no such thing as Crusades, the Inquisition, jihad, holy war, religious persecution, 9-11, abortion clinic bombings, denominational squabbles, negative campaign ads, hostile church meetings, or infighting that tears apart congregations.

 

            But because of the way we have always read those verses, we have buried their effect. We have typecast this chapter as a special idealistic blessing, for use at weddings only. To be sure, I Corinthians 13 has some wonderful things to say to a couple on the wedding day—some very wise things to say about the qualities needed to make a relationship work--which makes it a good text for a wedding.

 

            But here’s the irony. The words to which more Christians have been married than any other Biblical text was written by a man who was a world class grinch when it came to marriage. A wedding was the furthest thing from Paul’s mind when he wrote them. And to top it off, when he was talking about love, he wasn’t talking about the same thing that most wedding couples mean when they speak of love.

 

            Here’s a quick and dirty Greek review. Greek has several different words that we translate as “love.”

            There is eros. Romantic love. That’s what Valentine’s Day and Sweetheart banquets and romance novels are all about.

            There is phileo: The bonding and close feeling of affection between family members and between close friends. Philadelphia is a Greek name; it means the City of Phileo, or the City of Brotherly Love or the City of the Love of Friends.

            And then there is the word that Paul uses in this chapter: agape.

 

            Agape means something altogether different from those other terms for love. It is not an emotion, a feeling, or a natural bond; agape is an attitude, a decision, a way of life. It is a way of life that reflects as closely as possible the lifestyle of God. When Paul uses the word love, that is what he is writing about.

 

            What I find most fascinating is the way that Paul talks about this subject.

 

            You are all familiar with a monotone voice. It’s a voice that doesn’t go up or down, doesn’t get louder or softer; it just stays the same. Listen to someone who is not used to public speaking give a speech, whether it’s a student in front of a class, or a company official reading a statement to the press, or an athlete being interviewed before a game, and they often sound like this. It’s because they’re not quite sure of the situation and they don’t want to make a fool of themselves, so they try to keep the focus solely on content and talk in the serious tones they think others expect them to use. Beginning writers use monotone voices in their theme papers. It’s all so boring it puts you to sleep.

            But there is a way to counteract this and that is to use some EMOTION.

 

            Just a little demonstration of how emotion wakes you up and gets the blood pumping. If used right, it has that effect in all kinds of communication. Emotion works not because it’s loud. If I were to shout at you the entire sermon, that’s just a louder, more obnoxious form of monotone.   

            In one of my earlier sermons, I spoke about the Last Lecture series that was arranged when I was at Luther College. The premise was simple: professors were told to imagine this is the last lecture you will ever give in your lifetime. What are you going to say?

            The same professors who normally gave lectures in something very close to a monotone, were suddenly animated. Because now they were forced to connect with what is really important to them, with all the extra protective layers stripped away. You cannot tap into what’s really important to you without tapping into your emotions. And the electricity provided by emotion makes for compelling speech.

 

            Paul can be, let’s face it, kind of dull on occasion when he gets into theologian mode. Read Ephesians 1:15-23 sometime if you’re having trouble getting to sleep. It’s a run-on sentence that drags on for 9 verses—he goes on for 203 words before he finally puts us out of our misery by sticking a period in there. It’s like reading the fine print on an insurance policy or a will. He is so busy crossing all the t’s and dotting the i’s, very consciously trying to get a complex argument sorted out correctly, that he lapses into monotone. He succeeds in his argument, but reading it is tough sledding.

 

            Now compare that with I Corinthians 13. This is extraordinary writing. It jumps off the page at you, it crackles with energy. Nowhere in any of his other letters is Paul anywhere near as moving, eloquent, and memorable as he is in this chapter. And that tells me that here is where Paul tapped into his deepest emotions. He could not have written this unless he struck a nerve; he came face to face with what was most important to him.

 

            This emotion is even more striking when you consider the context.

 

            I want you to imagine Paul writing this letter. Most likely he dictated his letters, so imagine Paul pacing in front of his secretary, maybe at night in a shadowy, candle-lit room at the end of a tough day.

            For 12 chapters, Paul has been trying to clean up one goofy mess after another that this congregation in Corinth has created, and it’s got to be driving him absolutely mad. Here he risked his life and suffered beatings and imprisonment so that they could be saved from sin and brought into a new, wonderful life of relationship with God. And what have they done with this great gift, the most priceless gift in the world?

 

            They are quarreling, backbiting, infighting. Playing favorites among pastors, competing for attention and power. Filled with jealousy and arrogance. They have totally lost control of their sexual appetites. They’re worshipping idols, for crying out loud. At the same time they are boasting about how good and how wise they are. And to top it all off, they have even managed to turn the mystery of the Lord’s Supper into a drunken, gluttonous orgy, a ritual where the rich show off by making pigs of themselves on their fabulous cuisine and fine wine while humiliating the poorer members of the congregation sitting across the table from them who have nothing to eat.

 

            After 12 chapters of trying to untangle this mess, trying to explain calmly and logically what the Corinthians need to do to clean up their act, it’s starting to grind on Paul that these people just don’t get it. Despite all his skill and powers of persuasion, and his call from God and his sincerity and relentless efforts, he’s not getting through to them. And he has to wonder, what is the point? If the Gospel does not change lives, then why am I wasting my life proclaiming it, and taking all this abuse? These people just don’t get it!

 

            He’s tried so hard for 12 chapters to keep his famous temper under control, to be the voice of reason and counsel and persuasion. But in chapter 13, his frustration finally boils over. The dam of emotion breaks, and it all comes rushing out.

 

Read I Corinthians 13

 

            Did you hear what Paul said? He said something that should shake all Christians right down to their core. Because we so often talk about faith and belief as if that is THE important thing with God. That the primary goal of religion is to get people to believe the right set of doctrines.

 

            No, says Paul. Actually, I don’t think he says it, he screams it. If I have the greatest, most inspiring faith in Jesus that the world has ever seen, but don’t have love in my heart, my faith doesn’t mean a thing. I could just as well worship the devil for all the good I’m doing in this world. Faith is not the goal; love is.   

 

            As radical as this sounds, it’s not just Paul’s own pet theory. Jesus said the very same thing. When a lawyer asked, “What shall I do to inherit eternal life,” what is the one thing that is most important to God, what was Jesus’s answer?

 

             “You shall love the Lord your God with all you heart and with all your soul and with all your strength, and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself. Do this, and you will live.”

 

            The ultimate goal is not have it all figured out. The point is not to have the right set of beliefs. Because when that is the point, then the only thing that really matters is to be right. And when the only things that matters is to be right, the people who think they are right can blow up and gun down others in the name of their belief. They can declare holy war in the name of their belief. They can tear apart the church in the name of their beliefs.

 

            Paul seems to be leading us to some dangerous ground. Is he actually saying that it doesn’t matter what you believe as long as you love? Is he naively saying, along with Linus in the pumpkin patch, that all beliefs are equally valid as long as you’re sincere?

 

            Well, no. After all, Paul does list faith as one of the three crucial elements of life, along with love and hope. Again, he notes that it is not as important as love, but it is important.

 

            According to I Corinthians 13, the Christian message is that love is the goal; faith is how you get to that goal. Because if you don’t hear the message of the Bible that God is a god of infinite love, how do you reach that goal? If you don’t believe the story of the unimaginably powerful Creator voluntarily undertaking the pain and sacrifice of coming into the earth in human form to give himself for us, how do you reach the goal?  If you do not have faith that God did this for you, how can you begin to understand how deep and broad is this love that we are called and even commanded to imitate? Without faith, how do you begin to scratch the surface of what love is?

 

            We have been given faith as a way to bring us to love. Faith will carry us toward the light that will show us the path to life. And that light will show us that love, agape love, self-denying service of others, is the pathway to life. Getting on that path is the goal.

 

            I Corinthians 13 challenges us to ask some very uncomfortable questions.

 

            Does my faith lead me to love the Lord my God with all my heart and all my strength and all my mind, and my neighbor as myself?  If not, I am just a noisy gong.

 

            Does my view of the Bible lead me to love God and my neighbor? If not, whatever I say about the Bible is just a bunch of noise, like a mindlessly clanging cymbol.

 

            Does my understanding of baptism or communion or confession or the creeds lead me to love God and my neighbor?  If not, it has no value.

 

            Does my belief on worship style, foreign missions, welfare, abortion, lifestyle issues, displaying commandments in a courtroom, prayer in school, foreign policy, or a hundred other issues lead me to love God and my neighbor as myself? If not, it’s pulling me in the wrong direction, away from what God wants for me, and I need to cut it loose, no matter how powerful that belief is.

 

            The goal is love. Faith is what brings us to love.  If what you believe does not carry you into the realm of love, then no matter how devout you are in your belief, your faith is not worth anything. May the gift of faith lead you to love the Lord your God with all your heart and all your strength and all your soul, and your neighbor as yourself.