Sermon Archive

It All Comes Down to This

A couple of years ago near the end of the same set of Jewish holy days now being observed, I asked a rabbi-friend of mine how he was holding up through all the services of Rosh Ha-Shanah (the Jewish New Year), Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement), and Sukkot (the Feast of Booths or Tabernacles). And he quite candidly replied to me: "I'm tired—really, really tired. But it won't be long," he went on, "until we arrive at the final day of this holy season, Simchat Torah—the Joy of Torah, the joy of God's giving us these teachings found in the biblical books of Genesis through Deuteronomy. And on Simchat Torah," he said, "it all comes down to this: love and joy and dancing, as we express our love for the God whose love for us is proclaimed in Torah. Yes, it all comes down to this!"

Well, this year the Jewish celebration of Simchat Torah will be getting underway this coming Tuesday evening. And all of us here have been invited to join in the love and joy and dancing of our neighbors at the West End Synagogue. See the flyer that's in this morning's bulletin, and then meet me here at Rutgers, in the lobby by the elevator, this Tuesday night at 6:45. And we'll all walk over together to join the festivities.

Now, one of the things that'll happen at that service at the West End Synagogue is this. They'll read the very last verses of the book of Deuteronomy, verses that bring the Torah to a close by describing the death of Moses and by offering in his memory a ringing eulogy. And as God's providence would have it, those same verses are the very ones that our own Christian lectionary has prescribed for our use here today? And then, come Tuesday at the synagogue, the congregants, having read the last verses of the Torah, will start their annual cycle of Torah readings all over again by going back to the very beginning of their Torah scroll and reading its opening verses, verses from the book of Genesis that narrate God's creation of the world. Oh yes, and through pure happenstance, because some of you have asked me to preach a sermon on the Intelligent Design controversy, we, too, at Rutgers will be reading these same verses from Genesis 1, at our service next Sunday,!

Simchat Torah—the Joy of Torah. And at the heart of Torah lie God's commandments, the commandments that, according to Jewish tradition, number 613. That’s a lot! So throughout Jewish history various kings, prophets, and rabbis have sought to simplify matters by distilling all of these 613 commandments down into just a few much-more-easily-remembered principles—thereby making it ever so much easier for people first of all to learn Torah and then to do it.

Thus, the Babylonian Talmud (Makkot 23b–24a) teaches that, in the time of ancient Israel, King David boiled the commandments down to just eleven principles (Psalm 15:1–5); and that the prophet Micah boiled them down to three (6:8), and the prophet Isaiah to two (56:1), and the prophets Amos (5:4) and Habakkuk (2:4) to just one each. And the Babylonian Talmud also tells us (Shabbat 31a) that the greatest of all their rabbis, a man named Hillel—who was a much older contemporary of Jesus—that Rabbi Hillel had also distilled the whole of Torah down to just one principle: namely, "What is hateful to you, do not do to your neighbor."

So it is that in this morning's Second Lesson we find a lawyer—who doubtless represented all the rabbis in Jerusalem, except for Jesus, and who doubtless knew well Hillel's famous teaching—we find this lawyer seeking to test both Jesus’s knowledge of Torah and Jesus's commitment to it. He poses to Jesus this question: "Teacher, which commandment in the law—in the Torah—is the greatest? (Matthew 22:36)

And in replying to this lawyer's challenge, Jesus chooses to distill the Torah's 613 commandments down to two principles, not just one. Jesus cites first the fifth book in the Torah, the book of Deuteronomy, chapter 6, verse 5, and reads, "'You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.' This is the greatest and first commandment." Then Jesus immediately goes on to turn to the third book in the Torah, the book of Leviticus, chapter 19, verse 18, and he quickly adds to what he's already quoted: "And a second is like it: 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself.'" Yes, according to Jesus and based on Torah, it all comes down to this succinct job description for a people of faith: love God, and love your neighbor. Yes, it all comes down to this!

Well, the commandments that Jesus here quotes are easily recited, but not so easily done! And although it's simple enough for us to say that it all comes down to this—love God, love neighbor—a couple of weighty questions still remain to be asked of us, and they're these: Who among us has in fact loved God with our whole heart, and soul, and mind—totally, selflessly? And who among us has in fact loved our neighbors in that same manner—that is, totally and selflessly? Well, not a single one of us!

Furthermore, Jesus here links these two commandments in an inseparable way. So we cannot give love to God if we do not give love to those created in God's image: that is, our neighbors, all of humankind. And if we do give love to our neighbors, if we do act in ways that meet their needs, then we are also giving love to our Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer, whose intention for all us creatures is fullness of well-being. So during the rest of my sermon I'm going to focus on the second of these commandments, for if we do not give love to our neighbors, then we cannot give love to God. (cf. also Matthew 25:31–45)

I've long treasured a story told by a Dominican nun, Joan Delaplane (in The Living Pulpit, July–September, 1992, p. 12). It's a story that illustrates well the kind of simple yet sacrificial love that Jesus expects us to render our neighbor, but that we find so hard to give. Listen:

"Five year old Johnny Quinn loved his big brother, Tommy. The doctor told Johnny that his brother was very sick and needed a blood transfusion, and the doctor asked: 'Johnny, would you be willing to give some of your blood to your brother?' [Well, five-year-old] Johnny gulped hard, his eyes got big, but after only a moment's hesitation he said: 'Sure, Doctor.' The doctor took the blood and Johnny was resting quietly on the table. A few minutes later, Johnny looked up at the doctor and said: 'When do I die, Doctor?' It was only then that the doctor fully appreciated the extent of this [five-year-old] boy's love."

Now, compare Johnny’s simple, sacrificial offer of love to most of our offers of love, which lack that crucial ingredient—sacrifice! I'll help you..., unless it hurts (we add silently). I'll help you..., unless it messes up my calendar. I'll help you..., unless I have to give up my opera series. I'll help you..., unless it raises my taxes.

On September 15th, President Bush stood in Jackson Square, New Orleans, and proclaimed for all to hear his loving concern for the poor of that city. "We will do what it takes,” he said. But that was five and a half weeks ago, and since then neither he nor any other political leader has outlined a comprehensive plan for "doing what it takes"—probably because that would mean calling on politicians and on the American middle class and upper class to sacrifice some things in order to get the job done.

Some of us Christians upon hearing the President's speech had dared to hope for bold governmental actions on behalf of the poor and the displaced, bold governmental actions designed to address the issues of poverty that Hurricane Katrina exposed for all to see. Instead—can you believe this?—Congress is poised next week to take actions that will lead instead to our nation's very poorest citizens needing themselves to bear an onerous part in funding our nation's recovery from Hurricane Katrina.

You see, next week Congress will be asked to approve the cutting of over $50 billion from the budget. And from what part of the budget? From those governmental programs that support the poor—programs like food stamps, SSI, Temporary Assistance for Needy Families, Medicaid, and unemployment insurance. And as if that isn't bad enough, next week Congress will also be asked to enact yet another set of tax breaks for the very wealthiest persons in our country—tax breaks to the tune of an additional $70 billion. Do you get the math? I guess Congress thinks of itself as a kind of reverse Robin Hood, taking $50 billion from the poor and giving $70 billion to the rich! Apparently, the leaders of Congress somehow think that God's commandment was meant to read: "Love your rich neighbor.”

The Reverend Jim Wallis recently told it like it is when he wrote this (in Sojomail, 10/6/05): "There are moments in every generation when a society must decide what its real moral principles are." Yes, and next week is certainly one of those moments. Next week, it all comes down to this: will we express love for our poorest neighbors in a way that is selfless and sacrificial—or will we not?

Consider this. If next week Congress were simply to rescind all the tax cuts now scheduled to take effect for the nation's wealthiest persons over the next five years—if they'd do that, our government's budget would gain enough extra income ($1.7 trillion) to pay the full tab not just for aid and reconstruction following last August's devastating Hurricane Katrina, but also for aid and reconstruction following last December's dread Asian tsunami, this month's horrific earthquake in Pakistan and India, and much, much more. The full tab, if they'd do just that! You need to call your senators and representative first thing tomorrow. You can call each one of them toll free at 1-800-426-8073. Call that number three times, asking for each senator and representative in turn. And tell each office you're against cutting programs for the poor and against tax breaks for the rich. Again, that number is 1-800-426-8073.

Yet I suppose we need to be realistic. The chances of Congress's actually taking that kind of bold, loving action on behalf of the poor and the displaced are pretty small. So if the commandment to love our neighbor is to be fulfilled, I think it will fall to individuals of good will like us to do what we can to meet the emergency needs.

Inspired by young Johnny's example, you will, I'm sure, be able to think of a whole host of sacrificial ways to share with others the time, talent, and money of your love. But in closing, let me lift up for you one specific concrete sacrificial action that we can undertake together in order to share our love with the millions of people around the globe who are living in such dire straits.

Let me suggest that as we prepare for Christmas—and yes, let me be the first to remind you that there are just 62 more shopping days until Christmas!—let me suggest that as we prepare for Christmas we notify all of our family, friends, and colleagues that we want them NOT to give us any personal gifts this year, that we want them instead to send a check to Church World Service in order to provide relief to the victims of such natural disasters as the earthquake in Pakistan and the hurricane in the Gulf Coast and to the victims of such human-made disasters as the genocide in Darfur and the spread of AIDS in Africa. And to help make sure that that happens, I suggest you give to each person who gave you a gift last year a stamped envelope bearing the following address: Church World Service, PO Box 968, Elkhart, Indiana 46515. (repeat)

It was the United Methodist Bishop William Willimon who said (in The Living Pulpit, July–September, 1992, p. 29): "Christian love...is the recognition that, because the world is as it is, nothing less than love will do." He's right about that, you know. It does all come down to love!

Let us pray:

O God, help us as we strive to love both You and our neighbor totally and selflessly—with all our heart, and soul, and mind. In the name of Jesus, we pray this. Amen.