2 Jn

10 June 2007

“Let Love be Your Rule of Life”

            Some of you, looking at my sermon title, might possibly remember something I preached last summer, when we were at the church in Jamestown.  It was “The Rule of James.”  It would be hard to forget that day; despite all my attempts, people came trembling, swearing allegiance to me!

            It will soon be a year since I addressed that particular spiritual discipline, the rule of life.  Recently in discussions, Ian has been raising the question of a rule of life.  It’s what Adele Ahlberg Calhoun calls “a sane and holy rhythm that reflects a deep love for God and respect for how he has made me.”[1]

            I’ve been checking my own “rhythm” of life, and I’ve found that it’s somewhat “arrhythmic.”  It’s one thing to maintain a few basic disciplines; it’s quite another to let love be one’s rule of life.  The good news for us is that we find help for that effort in the scriptures.

            The Second Epistle of John is not one of today’s readings.  In fact, it doesn’t appear at all in the lectionary:  neither do 3 John or Jude, which I’ll address in the next couple of weeks.  To me, that alone would be reason enough to preach from them.  Add to that, the fact that I never have.  Still, that isn’t a compelling enough purpose.

            What is important is that they have messages we need to hear.  There’s a lot packed into these one chapter letters.  Today, it’s Second John.

            The letter begins, “The elder to the elect lady and her children” (v. 1).  Many people see “the elect lady” as a church, with “her children” as its members.  What’s rendered as the “elect lady” is the Greek eklekth kuria (eklektē kuria).  There are several ways people have translated it.

Besides the “elect” or “chosen lady,” there’s also the “elect” or “chosen Kyria”—“Kyria” being a woman’s name.  Then there’s “Lady Electa”—in this case, “Lady” being a title and “Electa” being a woman’s name.  So if the letter is addressed to a woman, it would apparently be the only book in the New Testament—or in the whole Bible, for that matter—directed to a female.

I personally would like for that to be the case.  (That is:  not that it’s the only one, but that it’s addressed to a woman!)  But as with so much of the Bible, there’s not enough evidence to say one way or the other.

             Nowhere does the writer call himself “John.”  He refers to himself simply as the “elder,” in Greek, presbutero" (presbuteros).  That’s where we get our words “presbyter” and “Presbyterian.”  This little letter of the presbyter’s has strong similarities with 1 John and the Gospel of John; that’s how it got its name.

            And while I’m still dealing with lack of evidence, we’re not sure if the elder—the presbyter—is indeed the apostle John.  We also don’t know if “the elder” is a title, an office in the church, or if it’s a description of his age—that he’s an old man!  For simplicity’s sake, I’ll just call him “John.”

            The letter deals with two basic themes.  The first one is the importance of walking in truth and love, living a life of truth and love.  He includes that idea in his greeting:  “Grace, mercy, and peace will be with us from God the Father and from Jesus Christ, the Father’s Son, in truth and love” (v. 3).

            In verse 4, we see that John is “overjoyed to find some of your children walking in the truth.”  Then, sounding very much like both the gospel and the first letter of John, the presbyter appeals to the “dear lady”:  “let us love one another” (v. 5).

            The second major theme is a warning about deceivers.  This especially applies to Gnostic Christians.  We have to remember that we’re now at the end of the first century, maybe even the early second century.  Two or three generations have passed since the earthly ministry of Jesus.  It’s become easier to believe that he wasn’t God in flesh—that’s one of the key tenets of the Gnostics.

            John’s very concerned about this development.  In verse 7 he says, “Many deceivers have gone out into the world, those who do not confess that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh; any such person is the deceiver and the antichrist!”  Ouch.  That’s some pretty stern language!

            One reaction to this would be to ask:  why get so worked up?  What difference does it make if someone denies the incarnation?  So what if somebody teaches that God has not entered this world in the form of matter, in the form of flesh?  (And by the way, Gnostics aren’t the only ones who do that.)

            In the movie Syriana, which came out in 2005, there are a large number of actors involved in interconnecting storylines.  One such storyline consists of a young unemployed Pakistani man and his friend in one of the Arab Gulf states.  They catch the eye of a teacher in one of the radical Islamic schools.  He basically brainwashes them into conducting a mission.  They’re to destroy an oil supertanker by means of suicide bombing.  Posing as fishermen among a group of boats, they veer off toward their target.

            Right after the explosion, we hear the young man in a voiceover, along with subtitles.  He has recorded a suicide video; these are his final words.  The phrase that I really noticed is, “The next world is the real life.”  Understand, this isn’t about resurrection; it’s about denying the importance of life here and now.  To embark on such a mission, one would almost have to have that kind of mindset.

            Obviously, suicide bombing is an incredibly extreme reaction.  But those who deny that Christ has come in the flesh would also say that this life really doesn’t matter.  There are even Christians who tend to fall into that category.  They might think that affairs of this world really don’t concern them.

            A lot of the people that John has a beef with take this approach to the incarnation.  “It’s merely the first step in the faith.  For the beginners…well, it’s all they can handle.  All they can deal with is Christ in the flesh.  As for us, we’re more advanced.  We have knowledge of the spiritual Christ; we’ve progressed beyond that minor league stuff.”

            John replies, “Yes, I’m well aware of how advanced you are!  I completely understand how far you’ve progressed.  In fact, you’ve progressed right out of our Lord’s teaching.”  The scripture says, “Everyone who does not abide in the teaching of Christ, but goes beyond it, does not have God” (v. 9).

            Having said all of this, it’s only fair to point out something.  We only hear John’s side of the story.  The Christians John opposes would probably not describe themselves as deceivers and antichrists!  (I’m just guessing!)  I’m not saying I would agree with them, but we should admit that we don’t hear their response to John’s charges.  I’ll say a little more next week about that aspect—the aspect of dialogue—when we look at 3 John.

            But this makes what John says in verses 10 and 11 a little more understandable.  “Do not receive into the house or welcome anyone who comes to you and does not bring this teaching; for to welcome is to participate in the evil deeds of such a person” (vv. 10-11).  At first glance, this seems paranoid and overly defensive.  For John, though, nothing less than the faith itself is at stake.  Certainly, his understanding of it is at stake—what would later be known as the apostolic tradition.

            So, how does that square with his plea to the dear lady, “let us love one another”?  How does this apparently inhospitable request match his statement in verse 6?  “To love is to live according to [God’s] commandments:  this is the commandment which you have heard since the beginning, to live a life of love” (New Jerusalem Bible).  The translation that appears in the Revised English Bible, about love being “your rule of life,” is on page 10 of our worship bulletin.

            Does it matter that letting people remain in the dark isn’t doing them a favor?  Would we not have to take steps that, at times, seem to be harsh—so-called “tough love”?

            As true as that may be at the individual level, John is concerned for the entire community.  His ban on welcome isn’t aimed so much at those who simply believe the wrong thing.  If that were the case, no one would be welcome in the church.  Who doesn’t have a flaw in their thinking?  Who doesn’t have some screwed-up ideas?

            No, what concerns him are those who encourage that crazy stuff.  They’re “an offense against the agapē,” the love, as Georg Strecker puts it, “that should characterize the community, and this is true because with the false teaching, quarrels and [things associated with it] (even suspicion and hatred) have been introduced into the community.”[2]

            For John, the divisiveness stirred up requires stern action.  “The opposing teachers sin against the love commandment that is meant to bring the community together in unity of faith and action.”[3]  In a time when the Roman Empire has launched its own attacks on the church, that’s a concern which looms very large.

            Still, not all church strife is directly linked to teaching.  We’ve had a little taste of that at Westminster.  I can’t speak to what happened before we arrived, but I at least hope that Banu and I haven’t taught some “crazy stuff,” as I just called it.  There’s no question that in the seven years we’ve been here, we’ve covered but a fraction of the faith.  It’s like the Hubble telescope.  As powerful as it is, we can only see a small part of our galaxy.

            Probably as often as not, conflict is linked to personality.  Teaching and theology may have little to do with it.  The question is:  how do we let love be our rule of life?  How do we do that as individuals and as a congregation?  I could also pose that question to us as a city, as a nation—but we’ll save that for another day.

            On one hand…there’s no deep, dark secret.  We all know what it means to live in truth and love.  We know how to do that; we know how to be loving.  But on the other hand!  We find ourselves imitating the apostle Paul’s words in Romans 7:  “I do not understand my own actions.  For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate” (v. 15).

            Maybe that’s why it’s important to practice love now, not wait until conflict erupts.  Develop your rule of life, your rhythm of life, during the good times.  Maybe I should say:  practice it during the ordinary times, because that’s where most of life is spent.

            Before I finish, let me mention something as an afterthought from last week, Trinity Sunday.  I described the Holy Trinity as “the perfect model of the self-giving community,” living and moving “in a bond of pure love.”  Whatever our rule of life—whatever practices open us to God and to each other—the ultimate success is not due to us.  It’s due to our dwelling in that house of love that is the Trinity.

            Henri Nouwen speaks of “the possibility of being in the world without being of it.  We can be involved in struggles for justice and in actions for peace.  We can be part of the [uncertainties] of family and community life.  We can study, teach, write, and hold a regular job.  We can do all of this without ever having to leave the house of love.”[4]

            Let’s help each other find ways to make love our rule of life.  It’s the only way it will happen.

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