I John 3:16-24

A psychology professor, who had no children of his own, would frequently say to a neighbor, when he heard that neighbor scolding his child, "You should love your boy, not punish or scold him." One hot summer day, that same professor spent the day laying new concrete on his driveway. Tired after several hours of had work, he laid down his trowel, wiped the perspiration from his forehead, and started toward the house. Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw his neighbor's son putting his foot into the fresh cement. He rushed over, grabbed the boy, and was just about to scream at him about keeping his expletive deleted feet out of the driveway, when another neighbor leaned out a window and said, "Remember professor, you must love the boy, not scold him." To which the professor responded furiously, "I do love him in the abstract, but not in the concrete!"

Reminiscent of the classic words of Linus of Peanut's fame: "I love mankind. It's people I can't stand!"

I suppose that's the problem with love. It's easy to talk about it, write about it, come here on Sunday and sing and listen to a minister preach about it. It's much harder to go out on Monday morning, among flesh and blood people and actually do it; to love, not in the abstract, but in the concrete.

And yet, as Christians, we have no choice. Our Lord does not suggest that we love one another; he commands it. In the Gospel of John we read, "This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you." And our text from the Epistle this morning is crystal clear. There is no love in the abstract. "Let us love, not in the word or speech, but in truth and action."

William Willimon, now chaplain at Duke University, shares the following true story from his days as a parish pastor: "On my way home out of the church late one afternoon, I was chagrined to see, coming toward the church down the walkway, a rather forlorn-looking man with a small bag, obviously a vagabond, a drifter, coming to the church seeking a handout. This is what you get for having a church situated near a busy highway. These drifters...they always have some sad story of woe to tell, but the end is always the same - can you spare about $25 in cash?

"I sighed as I watched the man approach. It had been a long day. I was eager to get home. I would meet him at the door, head him off, give him the only cash I had - a mere $15 as I recall - and then send him on his way.

"'What can I do for you?' I asked with some annoyance in my voice.

"'I wondered if you might be able to help a fella' on his way south.'

"'Yes, yes,' I said. 'Well, I'm in a bit of a rush. So here is all I have. A five and a ten.'

"The man took the money as I offered it. Looked at it. And without a word he turned and headed out toward the street. Then he stopped and turned toward me as I locked the church door. 'I guess you think I'm supposed to thank you, to be grateful.' he said with a surprising tone of defiance.

"'Well, ' I said, 'now that you mention it, a little gratitude wouldn't hurt.'

"'Well, I'm not going to thank you. You want to know why?'

"'Why?' I asked.

"'Because you are a Christian. You don't help me because you want to. You have to help me because He (now thrusting his finger skyward) told you to help me!' Then he left.

Concludes Willimon, "I stood there stunned, angry. The nerve of these people! Then, on my drive home, it hit me. He was right!"

"Let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action." To be a Christian, a baptized follower of Jesus, means that there are some things for us which are not optional. In my other life, away from the church, I am a member of California Trout. In joining that organization, I am saying that I will do whatever I can to promote the health of rivers and streams in California, and the creatures that live and swim in those rivers and streams. That's part of being a member, it goes with the territory.

I am also a follower of Jesus. That means that in every situation, I am going to try to respond to others as Jesus would have responded. Again, it's part of being a Christian, it goes with the territory. It is not a topic for debate or discussion. In the words of Willimon: "Whether our obedience to this command will make the world a better place, or lead to deeper human understanding, or help to win friends and influence people, we know not. We only know that this is clearly what Jesus commands us to do."

Speaking of such love, Glendon Harris, editor of religious journals, writes, "Jesus spoke of love primarily to indicate a right relationship between people, a constructive spirit to help others build up their lives...That love has little to do with affection and emotional excitement. It is about how we treat each other. Love in the Bible may end with feelings, but it doesn't start with them. Gospel love has little to do with liking another individual or finding them attractive, fascinating or exciting. It has more to do with removing barriers and seeking as much good for another as for oneself."

I'm suggesting today that such love is beyond mere sentiment. It involves more than simply good feelings. Of course, good feelings are not all bad. I like it when I help someone and get a thank you in return. I like it when my efforts to love and care are warmly reciprocated. But there are no guarantees here.

In his book. The Art of Loving, Erich Fromm long ago reminded us that love is an attitude, something within us, and is not determined by what happens "out there", beyond us. Thus, loving others does not carry a guarantee that we will always find the right kind of people to love. In the words of Fromm, "Love means to commit oneself without guarantees, to give oneself completely in the hope that our love will live in the loved person. Love is an act of faith, and whoever is of little faith is also of little love."

Yes, we are commanded to love - again - in the concrete. This is not an option for Christians. But I don't want to make this love sound like some grim obligation. I think of the words of the poet:

I sought my soul

But my soul I could not see;

I sought my God

But my God eluded me.

I sought my brother

And I found all three.

I recall a preacher saying once, "There is no smaller package in the world than a person wrapped up in himself or herself." There are times when I just want to run off and hide. My dance card is full. I cannot take anymore involvement - anymore people. I take some books and get away. But, you know, I find I always come back. For here - among people - is where I grow, where I am stretched and challenged. Maybe it's simply a Board of Trustees meeting on a Monday night, maybe a meeting with low-income Latinos on affordable housing, maybe a one-on-one encounter in my office. As I reach out and allow others to reach out to me, I discover more of who I am and even a bit more of why God put me on this earth in the first place. John Donne was right, Jesus was right - I, we, are not islands. Yes, we are commanded to love. But let us be clear that we need to love. We need to care for one another, for our world, and to be cared for.

And, as people of faith it is only as we begin to extend ourselves in love that we begin to learn something of God. There is a library in a little Palestinian village of Ibillin near Haifa - a part of the world which continues to groan under the burdens of violence and injustice. In that library, there is a beautiful sign in Arabic with these words - words which Palestinians and Israelis, indeed words which all of us should take to heart: "God is the creator of all human beings, with their differences, their colors, their races, their religions. Be attentive. Every time you draw nearer to your neighbor, you draw nearer to God. Be attentive: Every time you go further from your neighbor, you go further from God."

As Jean Valjean sings in the musical, "Les Miserables:" "To love another person is to see the face of God."

"Little children, let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action." We are called, indeed commanded, to pay attention, to care enough, to love enough, to keep our eyes open all the time, to every person everywhere. And it is not simply some pie in the sky, unrealistic Biblical ideal. Rather, it has become a late 20th century necessity. And in the words of the poet, Peggy Pond Church:

Now the frontiers are all closed.

There is no other country we can run away to.

There is no ocean we can cross over.

At last we must turn and live with each other.

We cannot escape this day any longer.

There is no room for hate left in the world,

Now we must learn to love.

Love is no longer a theme for eloquence,

Or a way of life for a few to choose.

There is no other way out;

There is no one on earth

Who must not face this task now.