Sabbath Day Thoughts — “The Debt of Love” Romans 13:8-14
One of my first forays into volunteering as a young adult was with a community mental health association. I served as an advocate for a similarly aged woman whom I will call Kelly. As a small child, Kelly had caught measles and suffered an extremely high fever that left her with brain damage. Kelly’s social worker hoped that I would be able to help Kelly learn some healthy habits like grooming, housekeeping, managing money, and having responsible relationships. I thought I was going to make a special friend and make a big difference in her life. I was wrong.
On my first visit to Kelly’s apartment, I was surprised to learn that she had a husband Glen, who was also developmentally disabled. Glen dreamed of being a radio DJ and my entire first visit to that very dirty and chaotic apartment was spent trying to talk over blaring music and Glen’s equally loud DJ patter and whoops. When I invited Kelly to take a walk so that we could hear one another, she said she didn’t like walking. This was just fine.
For my second visit, I arranged for us to go out for dinner at a local Chinese restaurant. Glen was absent when I arrived, hanging out with some of his guy friends. “This is a big improvement!” I thought. But Tammy didn’t look ready to go. Her hair was greasy and tangled. Her blouse was covered in food stains. Her teeth were yellow with tartar. Her breath was very bad. Maybe this was my opportunity to talk about grooming and personal hygiene. But I didn’t get anywhere. Kelly didn’t like showers or toothbrushing and that was her favorite blouse, which perhaps explained why it was so filthy and smelly. We went out to dinner anyway, my confidence in my ability to be an advocate dropping by the minute.
I wish I could tell you that things got better. I tried gifting Kelly with little care packages of shampoos, shower gels, and toothbrushes. We tried a trip to the salon for a new hairstyle. We made a budget. None of this was well received. About six months into our friendship, Kelly split with Glen. At first, they lived together, but she insisted that they were no longer married. She brought new boyfriends home often. Then, one day Glen was gone. Kelly’s next longtime boyfriend Ralph wasn’t developmentally disabled, but he was old enough to be her grandpa. She began to insist that he come along on all our outings, and Ralph couldn’t keep his hands off of Kelly, even though her hygiene hadn’t improved one bit. When I called Kelly’s social worker to raise concerns about Ralph, I learned that I was being judgmental and that it really wasn’t any of my business. I limped along in my volunteering, trying to be a positive influence, but frankly I failed miserably. Whatever obligation I owed Kelly as her advocate never was truly fulfilled. I felt frustrated and disappointed, and I’m pretty sure that Kelly didn’t even like me.
In our epistle reading, the Apostle Paul described the most essential obligation that we owe to one another: love. “Owe no one anything, except to love one another; for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law.” The Greek word here for owe, opheilo, means to have a moral or financial obligation to another person. It is easy for us to imagine that we owe the repayment of a loan. It is equally easy for us to remember times that we have felt indebted to others for the kindness that they offered in our time of need. It’s more difficult to accept the radical message that Paul suggests: we always owe a debt of love to everyone, everywhere, all the time.
I have taught before that in Greek there are three words for love—eros is romantic love; phile is brotherly love; and agape is love based upon selfless, sincere appreciation and high regard for the other. Agape is a holy love that reverences the image of God imprinted within each of us. Paul teaches that we owe one another agape, the pure and disinterested love that emerges from the awareness that we are all beloved children of a loving God. Paul is, of course, paraphrasing the essence of Jesus’s ethical teaching, that we are to love the Lord our God with all our heart, mind, soul, and strength; and we must love our neighbors as we do ourselves.
If you are like me, your head spins with the magnitude of this basic Christian imperative to love. I think I’ve got it when it comes to loving my family, my friends, and my church, but to owe a debt of pure love to all? To do no wrong to anyone at any time? To love the boss who took credit for our initiative, to love the former spouse who abused our trust, to love the neighbor who peddles conspiracy theories and blankets the lawn with political propaganda, to love the Russians, the North Koreans, the terrorists? The very thought is daunting, intimidating, mind blowing. Help us, Paul. Help us, Jesus.
The great Reformed theologian Karl Barth taught that agape is the spiritual relationship with neighbor that is born in our communion with God; agape is the relationship between people that is grounded in the sure and certain knowledge of a loving God. In agape, we trust that God is at the center of our relationships with one another, and so all our relationships may be charged with the holy. Although we are, indeed, frail and short on love, God is not. We become capable of selflessly loving one another because God first loves us.
For followers of Jesus, our capacity to love like this is grounded in Christ. God’s love for us is so boundless, so limitless, so deep and wide and wonderful that God would humble Godself to take the form of a simple Jewish tradesman, who was filled with a love so profound that he would suffer the humiliation and agony of death upon a cross to reconcile us with God and one another. Our ability to love one another springs forth from God’s love for us, and the greatness of that love equips us to be more than we are—more open, more caring, more loving. God’s love grows within us, summoning us to a loving engagement with the world.
If I were a young adult back in the DC area again, volunteering with that community mental health association, I’d like to think that I would handle things with Kelly differently. I would let go of the expectations that I should improve her grooming and impart some key lessons in personal hygiene. I might stop trying to bring order to an apartment that looked like a firetrap to me. I would quiet my disapproval of her promiscuity and her interesting choices in men. Instead, I would just try to love Kelly, to see in her the holy image of our infinitely loving God. If all I did was love, maybe Kelly would even like me, but there are no guarantees, and the choice for love is never predicated upon the strings that we might wish to attach.
Loving others selflessly as Paul suggested and Jesus required is hard work. It takes a singular commitment and the daily resolve to love others as God has loved us. Practitioners of mindfulness meditation teach that we can cultivate within ourselves the capacity to love. It takes daily practice, but it’s doable. Perhaps we could even try it right now. Shall we?
We start by acknowledging God’s love for us. Take a moment to bring to your awareness God’s holy love for you, and if anyone is struggling to feel beloved this morning, allow me to be Jesus for you and remind you that you are precious in God’s sight. Feel the love.
Next, we use our imaginations to extend God’s love to others. Look around, my friends, at your neighbors in the pews. Share that holy love with one another.
Next, we look beyond the walls of the church to our neighbors in Saranac Lake. Can we imagine love rolling out in waves from the sanctuary this morning as a blessing for the community? Send love forth.
Next, use your imagination to look far into the distance and see the citizens of our world groaning beneath the weight of earthquake in Morocco, or war in Ukraine, or tyranny in North Korea, or hunger in Afghanistan. Let’s send our agape to the ends of the earth. Let it roll! Can we feel the love?
According to those prayer warriors everywhere, this simple daily discipline can help us to grow in agape. It’s worth a try. What the world needs now is love, sweet love.
The last time I saw Kelly, I had her over to my apartment for dinner. I insisted that Ralph stay home, and at first there was some bad attitude about that. I cooked all Kelly’s favorites: pork chops, green beans, sauerkraut, and stuffing. For dessert, I brought out baked apples, the simplest of sweets, cored and stuffed with brown sugar, cinnamon, and raisins. Kelly smiled, showing her terrible teeth. “My Mom made these,” she said, attending to a private memory that lit her up from within. We were letting go of one another, but perhaps on this last visit I had done something right. Perhaps it was a little bit like love.
Resources
Karl Barth. The Epistle to the Romans. New York: Oxford University Press, 1953.
David McCabe. “Commentary on Romans 13:8-14” in Preaching This Week, Sept. 10, 2023. Accessed online at workingpracher.org.
Mary Hinkle Shore. “Commentary on Romans 13:8-14” in Preaching This Week, Sept. 4, 2011. Accessed online at workingpracher.org.
Elizabeth Shively. “Commentary on Romans 13:8-14” in Preaching This Week, Sept. 7, 2014. Accessed online at workingpracher.org.
Romans 13:8-14
8Owe no one anything, except to love one another; for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law. 9The commandments, “You shall not commit adultery; You shall not murder; You shall not steal; You shall not covet”; and any other commandment, are summed up in this word, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” 10Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore, love is the fulfilling of the law.
11Besides this, you know what time it is, how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers; 12the night is far gone, the day is near. Let us then lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armor of light; 13let us live honorably as in the day, not in reveling and drunkenness, not in debauchery and licentiousness, not in quarreling and jealousy. 14Instead, put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires.

