Iegūt lietotniBelmont University Advent GuideParaugs
This exchange between Jesus and the Pharisees in Mark 12 is a good example of how Jesus embodied his message. They ask a trick question, theoretical, divorced from life: which is the greatest of the commandments? Somehow Jesus has the grace to take them seriously with his reply: love God. But he introduces a dimension that has eluded them: heart and soul. Love God with all your heart and all your soul. They are trapped because they do not live on this level of heart and soul, a level of honesty and vulnerability.
It is not so simple to love God, that invisible, mysterious presence which seems to withhold as well as to give. How do we love such? The Indian saint Ramakrishna was told one day by an older woman, “I find that I cannot love God.” To which he replied, “What then do you love?” She responded, “My little nephew.” To which he concluded, “And therein is your love for God.”
I think we love God when it dawns on us that our existence is contingent (we did not have to be) and when it dawns on us that we are being accompanied. When that fills us from head-to-toe, we begin to dwell at the corner of Wonder and Gratitude.
Jesus adds a footnote: love your neighbor as yourself. He once again moves beyond a technical discussion. Love always has a face, often a face we do not anticipate. I think love follows the sequence of (a) seeing (b) comprehending (c) identifying with (d) responding to concretely. That trajectory follows the incarnational path of Jesus.
The face-of-neighbor for me is Mike, the homeless artist at the dangerous intersection of Hillsboro and Harding Place. We talk about his latest drawing or poem and I reach for my billfold. His life-scarred countenance bears for me the marks of the image of God. I can no longer drive past him.
Mother Teresa said, “Do small things with great love.” Augustine said, “Love God and do as you please.” Franny and Zoey said, “Do it for the Fat Lady.” And who is the Fat Lady? It’s Jesus himself, hidden in our neighbor. No wonder this spiritual life is like an Easter Egg hunt, except the Egg is searching for us.
Ben Curtis
Professor of Religion
It is not so simple to love God, that invisible, mysterious presence which seems to withhold as well as to give. How do we love such? The Indian saint Ramakrishna was told one day by an older woman, “I find that I cannot love God.” To which he replied, “What then do you love?” She responded, “My little nephew.” To which he concluded, “And therein is your love for God.”
I think we love God when it dawns on us that our existence is contingent (we did not have to be) and when it dawns on us that we are being accompanied. When that fills us from head-to-toe, we begin to dwell at the corner of Wonder and Gratitude.
Jesus adds a footnote: love your neighbor as yourself. He once again moves beyond a technical discussion. Love always has a face, often a face we do not anticipate. I think love follows the sequence of (a) seeing (b) comprehending (c) identifying with (d) responding to concretely. That trajectory follows the incarnational path of Jesus.
The face-of-neighbor for me is Mike, the homeless artist at the dangerous intersection of Hillsboro and Harding Place. We talk about his latest drawing or poem and I reach for my billfold. His life-scarred countenance bears for me the marks of the image of God. I can no longer drive past him.
Mother Teresa said, “Do small things with great love.” Augustine said, “Love God and do as you please.” Franny and Zoey said, “Do it for the Fat Lady.” And who is the Fat Lady? It’s Jesus himself, hidden in our neighbor. No wonder this spiritual life is like an Easter Egg hunt, except the Egg is searching for us.
Ben Curtis
Professor of Religion
Par šo plānu
This Advent Guide comes from students, faculty and staff at Belmont University. Advent is that season of waiting that carefully and purposefully helps us to realign our priorities and to glimpse, anew, our place before God. Our humble hope is this guide helps people focus more fully on Jesus Christ through the Advent season.
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