When I had finished writing my last Sunday’s sermon, I deemed it to be one of my usual, bog- standard efforts – just short enough to stop the congregation having a snooze or having to admire the church’s architecture for too long. I considered that sermon to be acceptable at best or indifferent at worst; but certainly there was nothing controversial in it. I had to change my opinion after I’d delivered it. Never before, here in Scotland, have I had so many conversations triggered by one of my sermons. ‘Heartless’, ‘unfeeling’, ‘cold-hearted’… these are just a few of the names I was called. What was it in my sermon that was so controversial? Same-sex marriage? Abortion? Scottish independence? None of these, nor any of the other usual incendiary suspects. The source of the controversy was my claim that I don’t love my dog.
Such a claim was utterly beyond imagining. Surely I made it so obvious that I must love my dog: I feed him, I groom him, I take care of his health and well-being… How could I possibly spend any money on my dog, and give him so much of my time and attention without actually loving him? Well, I can replace the word ‘dog’ in the previous sentence with the word ‘car’ and it will work just as well: I fill up my car, I wash it, I take care of its road-worthiness… Do I love my car? No. Nor do I hate it. In that respect I am undeniably a heartless, unfeeling and cold-hearted individual.
There’s quite a common misunderstanding about love. Many people confuse it with the positive feelings that they have towards other people or things. The English language doesn’t help us much here; as the convention in English goes, we can ‘love’ delicious food, fast cars, a new film, or ‘that girl’ or ‘that boy’. In my native language, however, we tend to reserve the verb ‘to love’ for those people who are close to us; for anybody or anything else, we tend instead to use the verb ‘to like’. In Polish, the distinction is clear-cut. However, this matter is not just for linguistic purists. The consequences of mistaking love solely with feelings can be very real, sometimes dramatic, sometimes even fatal.
Let’s do a simple mental, but practical experiment. Could you, please, hate me intensely right now? Maybe some of you could manage that easily if it’s your ‘default’ setting. But for most of you – I hope – that’s simply not possible right now. Why ever not? Because I’ve given you no reason to do so – I hope. And here is the clue: our emotions are triggered by a spur; emotions are reactions of the mind regarding a particular situation or person. Let’s continue our little experiment. Could you, please, love me right now? Hmmm…. And now listen to today’s gospel: ‘I give you a new commandment: love one another; just as I have loved you, you also must love one another.’ You can’t force yourself to feel love for me, a person indifferent to you. How then can you force yourself to feel love for absolutely every person you encounter, including some pretty unpleasant individuals? We cannot trigger our emotions off; when we experience outbursts of feeling, we can barely control our behaviour while we are under their influence. So, either Jesus is calling us to do something impossible or we have to revise our understanding of what is meant by love.
The definition I’m offering is highly simplified, but hopefully it will shed some light upon what we are to understand by ‘love’ in this context. Here it is: love is a conscious, intentional and dynamic, two-way relationship between two individuals. Its purpose is a selfless quest for the ultimate good of the other party. If positive emotions accompany such efforts, it’s nice; but lack of those emotions doesn’t invalidate that love. In practical terms, each one of us is called to ‘love one another’ but not necessarily to like one another. Love is specifically a divine and human trait, as God and human beings are able to make conscious decisions. Do I therefore love my dog? No. Do I love each and every one of you? I try really hard to do so. Do I like each and every one of you? Have a guess…