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In
the Gospel of John, we hear, “I
give you a new commandment, that you love one another.” Of course,
it is not a new commandment. At all. Rather, this is as old of
commandments as commandments come. Love commandments are
fundamental. There are two parts, the love your neighbor part
(Leviticus 19:18) “You shall not take vengeance or
bear a grudge against any of your people, but you shall love your
neighbor as yourself: I am the LORD.” and the love God part. (Deut
6:4) “Hear, O Israel: The LORD is our God, the LORD alone. You
shall Love the LORD your God with all your heart, with all your soul,
and with all your might.” Jesus’ commandment to love each other is
grounded in the already there tradition as an abiding commandment.
Further, that’s a tenet of every major religion in some form or
another.
It
isn’t new, but it is still challenging. You know that passage from 1
Corinthians 13 that people love to have in their wedding ceremonies?
The one that says
“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; 6it
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.” The one that is actually Paul writing to
the church in Corinth who are fighting amongst themselves, and he is
telling them what Christian love toward one another looks like?
Well, if Paul had to write that letter to do that, then we can assume
the people weren’t following the commandment too well.
And,
of course, we have the history of Christianity showing us more
examples of how badly we follow this commandment. If our love for
one another is meant to be way we show that we are Christ’s, OYE.
There was the split between the Eastern and Western Church. The
Protestant Reformation was a wreck – I can’t even go into the
horrors it other than to say that at least 100,000 people were
killed. And then, in our tradition, our Methodist Church split all
over the place over the issue of slavery, and power, and money, and
we’re facing a new split now because the church doesn’t know how to
love. We have NOT loved each other well. We have not shown
ourselves to be disciples of Christ, at least not on the big scale,
not if it means showing the world how well we love.
Instead,
on the large scale, I think we look like most other human
institutions, obsessed with power, money, and control. It isn’t
pretty.
While
there are great things that do happen on the larger scale (UMCOR,
Africa University, supporting seminaries, Imagine No Malaria), I
don’t think the larger scale is the one that CAN be reflective of
love. The blessed ties that bind us together are just not big enough
for the size of organizations that exist.
Have
you heard of Dunbar’s number? The New Yorker explains it well:
The
Dunbar number is actually a series of them. The best known, a hundred
and fifty, is the number of people we call casual friends—the
people, say, you’d invite to a large party. (In reality, it’s a
range: a hundred at the low end and two hundred for the more social
of us.) From there, through qualitative interviews coupled with
analysis of experimental and survey data, Dunbar
discovered
that the number grows and decreases according to a precise
formula,
roughly a “rule of three.” The next step down, fifty, is the
number of people we call close friends—perhaps the people you’d
invite to a group dinner. You see them often, but not so much that
you consider them to be true intimates. Then there’s the circle of
fifteen: the friends that you can turn to for sympathy when you need
it, the ones you can confide in about most things. The most intimate
Dunbar number, five, is your close support group. These are your best
friends (and often family members). On the flipside, groups can
extend to five hundred, the acquaintance level, and to fifteen
hundred, the absolute limit—the people for whom you can put a name
to a face. While the group sizes are relatively stable, their
composition can be fluid. Your five today may not be your five next
week; people drift among layers and sometimes fall out of them
altogether.1

Dunbar’s
numbers are about the limits of how many people you can feel
connected to at certain levels. They’re also about how many people
can feel connected to each other as a group, and how much structure
is required to connect people at different levels. The gist is, the
larger the group, the less people feel connected, the more work is
required to create a sense of community.
This
may explain a bit about church size and function, as well as a lot of
human behavior. It also explains why we’ve struggled so much as an
Annual Conference to feel bonded to each other – we get together
only once a year and we’re STILL bigger than the largest group that
can have actual cohesion. The disconnect between levels of the
church makes sense in this model, although so does the fact that our
church is built in layers, so that relationships can be built.
The
key seems to be, that human beings, human institutions, and human
societies run on relationships, and none of them can be successful if
they outgrow relationships. Institutions that are larger than
relationship capacity EITHER have to have ways to subdivide to allow
relationships to stabilize OR they will lose their focus and
identity, because they lose their basis in relationship.
I
don’t think Jesus was talking about institutions, I think he was
talking about PEOPLE, and the way they treat each other. The part of
the command that IS new is that is it no longer love “your
neighbor” but now “love one another.” It takes the community
from physical proximity to one that is defined by shared work.
(Which may be more similar than it sounds to begin with.)
Only
relatively small groups can have enough cohesion to be defined by how
well they love each other, it just can’t happen on a massive scale.
But let’s be really honest – it doesn’t always happen on a smaller
scale either. Humans can be REALLY hard to work with. #shock
Groups can really struggle.
I’ve
really been thinking a lot about group dynamics, OK, I ALWAYS think a
lot about group dynamics, it seems like they’re super duper important
to every part of following Jesus. One of the harder things about
functioning in a group is that the group is usually looking out for
the group’s best interest, and that doesn’t always line up with each
individuals best interest. This isn’t that fun if you are one of
the individuals whose needs aren’t aligned. You’d almost think
groups aren’t worth it, if it weren’t for the great benefits they do
offer: companionship, connection, shared reality, wisdom, growth,
hope, a place to make a contribution, support, acceptance, belonging,
being known, laughter, inspiration, purpose, stimulation,
interdependence – stuff like that. (I think groups are TOTALLY
worth it, can you tell?)
Perhaps
because of the constant need in a group to balance between the needs
of the whole and the needs of individuals, it is common in groups for
individuals to attempt to gain control over one another. Sometimes
one, or some, or all of the people, just WANT THINGS DONE THEIR WAY.
I expect that sounds obvious, and I expect that you have experienced
it. Vying for control is one of the basic dynamics of most groups,
and it can unravel them, and the degree to which people are vying for
control can relate tightly to how functional the group is.
Now,
thinking about a person trying to control groups, and trying to
control other people in groups is ALSO interesting, and it leads me
to some self-reflection. After all, sometimes I’m that person and
sometimes I’m not, and I’ve been wondering about what makes the
difference. Two pieces of it have occurred to me: I don’t tend to
seek control when I don’t really care what choices are made (so when
something doesn’t much matter to me), and I don’t tend to seek
control when I trust the group process to come up with a good answer.
That suggests that I’m more likely to seek control when I think
something really matters (duh), and when I’m scared. This has been a
bit of a relief for me as an insight, because I’m guessing I’m not
the only one who gets controlling when I get scared, and that means
that when I feel like people are trying to control me, it gives me an
option of being compassionate towards them because 1. they care a lot
and 2. they’re scared instead of … well all the other narratives
I’ve otherwise created in my head about other people trying to
control me. If people are feeling scared, that elicits compassion
from me, whereas if I just respond to my experience of someone trying
to control me, I’m far more likely respond with annoyance,
frustration, and … let’s be honest, defiance. Now, I dislike that
this has to be said, but it does: Having compassion for someone’s
fear does not require us to give them their way. This is inherently
true. Also, as people of God, we are seeking to be motivated by
love, not fear, so we don’t let fear rule.
Now,
let’s jump over to Peter in Acts. This is a hard story to preach
on, because I want to be very respectful of the Jewish tradition of
keeping kosher, which I find beautiful and meaningful. Keeping
kosher is a form of being faithful by paying attention to eating in
just ways, and it forms an identity of faithfulness, patterned into
one’s life. All that means that the formative story of why
Christians abandoned our Jewish roots, that were formed in keeping
kosher, is a tender sort of thing. Giving up keeping kosher was
giving up a primary Jewish identity, and Jesus’ early followers were
good Jews. Keeping kosher was good practice.
That
said, the history of Christianity is also found in this story. What
was once a sect of Judaism became a major world religion, in part
because of these decisions – the ones to include Gentiles as equal
partners in the Way of following Jesus, and not to require Gentiles
to become Jewish in order to become Christian. A GOOD THING had to
be let go in order to make it possible to do ANOTHER GOOD THING. To
welcome in new people required letting go of what had been very
important. To make space for what God was up to next in that
community required letting go of something that was already sacred.
Peter is horrified in this story about what is being asked of him.
But we wouldn’t be here if he hasn’t adapted.
That’s
a lesson that we all have to learn time and time again, particularly
if we want to live well in community. The “love one another” bit
requires adapting to each other, and it requires constant attention
to the living tradition, to see what needs to bend, or adapt, or be
let go. This loving each other thing – its really hard work.
But,
it is worth it. We know a God of love BECAUSE we know love through
each other. Thanks be to God, and may we continue to love one
another. Amen
1Maria
Konnikova ”The Limits of Friendship“ October 7, 2014
https://www.newyorker.com/science/maria-konnikova/social-media-affect-math-dunbar-number-friendships
–
Rev. Sara E. Baron
First United Methodist Church of Schenectady
603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305
Pronouns: she/her/hers
https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady
May 19, 2019






