Sermon: Epiphany 4

1 Corinthians 13 – An Interpretation
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Epiphany 4, Year C (RCL)
1 Corinthians 13:1-13

If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away all my possessions, and if I hand over my body so that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.

Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never ends. But as for prophecies, they will come to an end; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will come to an end. For we know only in part, and we prophesy only in part; but when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways. For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.

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If I choose to speak with the sharp, sinful tongue of a human being or the soft, soulful tongue of an angel, but do not have love for the other in my heart, my words fall meaningless and are just a bunch of noise. And if I feel confident that I can predict the future, or what we need to be doing right here, right now, and feel that I know the right way to do things and what needs to be done, and have the faith to see it through, so much so that I can bring my vision to completion even on my own, but do not have love, my vision, my ambition, my faithfulness are nothing. If I give away all that I have to the poor, if I tithe, if my parish tithe’s to outreach, if I am a generous giver, and because of this, take pride in my giving, as I should, but do not have love, I gain nothing, and not only that, I truly have given nothing away as well.

Love is patient. It waits on us. It asks us to wait on each other. When we think we know the way and that others now need to be brought along, it asks us to wait on them. When we think we are lost and find little hope in the darkness of the now, it waits on us. Love has no timeline, no agenda to get through. Love is kind. It respects us no matter what. When we disagree, it calls on us not to be disagreeable. Even in our passion for an issue of fundamental importance, it calls us not to throw our sister or brother under the bus in order for us to get our way. In its kindness, love is gentle.

Love is not envious. It does not raise an issue or a personality to such a height that our own selves and self worth are decimated. It does not barter our own experience and gifts in exchange for those of another. It holds no resentment, nor is it spiteful. Love is not boastful. With love, there is no place for righteous indignation. With love, our soap boxes are put away and our ivory towers brought low. With love, when forgiveness is asked for, it is granted. Love doesn’t hold a grudge. Love is not arrogant. It is not a mirror into which we gaze, showing us how great we are, how faithful we are, how forgiving we are, how wonderful we are. Love isn’t all about us. Love is not something to be proud of at the expense of others. Love is not rude. Love is not discourteous. Even in times of turmoil, even in heated debates, love asks us to continue in our respect of the dignity of every human being. Love has us bite our tongue and to think and pray about our responses to others.

Love does not insist on its own way. It doesn’t make us choose between my way and the highway. It insists only on restored relationships, not on the products of such relationships. It is not irritable. It cools a flaring temper. It calms a racing heart. It has us walk away and count to ten, or twenty, or one hundred if we need that. It helps us to put things, to put life back into perspective. Love does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. Love does not rejoice in bad behavior, but rejoices when new choices, better choices are made. Love is able to put wrongdoing aside when the truth comes to set us free. Love is forgiving. It waits for us even when we walk away. It runs to greet us even as we are still far off and find ourselves returning home, our head hung low. Love never gives up on us, never gives up.

Love is so big, so wide, so deep that it can take all of this upon itself without bending, without breaking. Because it bears all things, it can take with it our own burdens. Nothing is too great for us to hand over to love. There is never a danger in erring on the side of loving ourselves and others. Love can do more for us than we can ever ask or imagine. There is nothing that love can’t do. Because it believes all things, there is no opinion, no thought, no concern in the world that is beyond its caring concern. Love believes all things in order that all those who believe might feel the power of its embrace. Because it hopes all things, love calls us into the future. Love hopes that we may become more whole, more patient, more kind, more charitable in our love and concern for each other. Love sees the potential in our days to come and trusts that, with love, we will get to where we are. And because it endures all things, love promises to be there for us and for others in the future. Even if we are smart or not so smart, love will be there. Even if we are caring or not so caring, love will be there. Even if we believe or decide to stop believing, love will be there. Love isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Love makes that promise to us.

Though love never ends, everything else around us one day will. Prophecies, they’ll come to an end. If we’re right, one day we’ll know it. Or we’ll know that we were wrong. But either way, one day we’ll know. It will be made clear. We will have erred or we will have made the right choice. We’ll have an outcome. Our prediction, our prophecy will be over, yet love will continue on, picking us up in our mistake, or embracing us in the joy of our choosing wisely. Tongues, they’ll cease. One day our words will fall flat. We will be left speechless. We won’t find the right words for someone who’s lost a loved one. We won’t find the right words when our character is attacked. We won’t be able to convince another of our position. But love, it won’t fall flat. It will pick up where our words have left off. Love will be our language. And knowledge, that too one day will come to an end. One day we will realize that the more we know, the more we know we don’t know, you know? One day we’ll realize that knowledge does not exist in the head but rather, in the heart. The knowledge of facts, numbers, history, philosophy will all come to an end, will all be blinded by the true knowledge that lies at the heart of love, a love which can not be held in books or institutions but must be carried in the heart.

For we know only in part, and we prophesy only in part, and we each come with only part of the solution. Heck, we each come with only part of the problem! What we know, what we share is only one part of the body. We may know the ear well, very well in fact, so well that we think we know the rest of the body. Indeed, we might be deluded enough to think that the whole of the body is just a giant ear, and in turn forget or discredit the nose, the mouth, the eyes, the head. Yet we know only in part, our part. Our one little, tiny, unique though significant part, that’s all we know. What we wait for is the complete. The complete picture, the complete love, the complete body. That thing which is so much larger than ourselves that its gravitational pull draws us to itself. And when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end. In the completeness of love, our lives our no longer our own, they have been forever changed. It’s the sensation often found in a new father or mother; the sensation of knowing at the core of our being that we have been made for something greater than ourselves. We have been created by love, for love, to love; to love ourselves and to love each other. It’s the question asked by a new father or mother, “I thought I knew what life was all about before having this child. How could I have been so wrong, so self-centered?” When the completeness of love comes, we come to find ourselves growing beyond ourselves, with the partial coming to an end.

When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child, I did childish things. Now as an adult, I sometimes still become that child. I speak like a child; I insist on getting my own way, on getting things right away, on being demanding and forthright. I reason like a child; I can’t see beyond my own fingers and toes to understand that the world is greater than my perception of it. I become trapped in black and white thinking. I do childish things. Living my own life, doing my own thing, disregarding the greater good and the larger whole, I make poor choices and stupid mistakes. Sometimes, I still become that child.

Yet even still, now as an adult, on my good days I have put an end to childish ways. I have come to better appreciate the complexity and the challenge of learning to love and of loving. I have learned that words often times fall short. I have learned the wisdom to be found in my choosing my words carefully. I have learned the value of listening and being present. I have seen the damage done when tasks become more important than people. I have learned that charity and outreach are not synonymous with caring and compassion, though the two can sometime be confused. I’ve learned a lot about love. I’ve experienced and learned about the pain which comes when love is conditional. I’ve also experienced the wideness of love’s embrace through friends, family and forgiveness.

For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but soon, very soon we will see face to face. As we continue to grow in love, the fog of our own lives, our own priorities, our own beliefs, our own pronouncements will be wiped away from that cloudy mirror and the dim, bleak picture will become brighter, clearer, more honest, more loving. As we continue to strive to be more loving with each other, the veil between the bride and the bridegroom, between Christ and his church, will be lifted as we grow deeper in love with God and with one another. Now we know only in part, but then, then we will know fully, even as we are fully know, even as we now, today, are fully loved and cared for by God in Christ. Now we love only in part, but then, once we come to know and to believe that we are truly, completely, unconditionally loved to the essence and core of our being, then we will come to know others as we are know; then we will come to love others as we are loved.

Brothers and sisters in Christ, it is faith, hope, and love that abide. It is faith, hope, and love that stand with us, that stay with us, that stand for us, that promise to journey with us throughout our lives. Let us today make that choice to abide also with them. Let us learn to walk in faith, carry with us reserves of hope, and march on towards the journey of love. For the greatest of these is the journey itself of love. The journey that time and time again continues to call us back into relationship with each other; into right relationship, into reconciliation, and into healing and wholeness. Amen.