Jesus goes to dinner today.
He is eating at the house of a leading Pharisee, and Saint Luke gives us one important detail: “They were watching Him.”
Not listening. Watching. There is a difference.
When people listen, they hope to learn something.
When people watch, they may simply be waiting for you to make a mistake.
It makes for a slightly tense meal.
Then a man appears who is ill.
And suddenly the whole room has a problem.
It is the Sabbath.
Jesus asks: “Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath, or not?”
Silence.
Nobody wants to answer.
They know the Law.
They know the arguments.
They know what is permitted and what is not.
But there is a sick man standing in front of them, and somehow they have managed to turn him into a theological difficulty.
Jesus heals him.
Immediately.
No committee.
No consultation document.
No request that the man return during normal opening hours.
He heals him.
Then He asks: If your son or your ox falls into a well on the Sabbath, will you not immediately pull him out?
Again, silence.
Because everyone in the room knows the answer.
Of course they would.
If something we love is in danger, suddenly we become very creative about what is possible.
That is Our Lord’s point.
The Pharisees are not wrong to care about the Sabbath.
The Sabbath is God’s gift.
The problem is that they have learnt the rule so well that they are in danger of forgetting what the rule is for.
God’s law is not designed to make us less loving.
It teaches us how to love rightly.
And that is where Saint Paul fits beautifully.
He tells the Philippians: “It is my prayer that your love may abound more and more, with knowledge and all discernment.”
Notice that.
Not love without truth.
Not truth without love.
Love with knowledge.
Love with discernment.
Christian love is not simply being nice.
Sometimes being nice is easy.
Sometimes it is just avoiding trouble.
Christian love asks: What is truly good for this person?
Jesus looks at the sick man and knows.
He needs healing.
The others look at him and see a problem about Sabbath observance.
Jesus sees a person.
We can become so interested in getting everything correct that we stop noticing the person standing in front of us.
The liturgy matters.
Doctrine matters.
The commandments matter.
Canon law matters.
But every one of them exists to lead us into the truth and holiness of God.
None of them gives us permission to become cold.
And equally, love does not give us permission to ignore truth.
Saint Paul does not pray that love may become vague and agreeable.
He prays that it may become discerning.
Because genuine love sometimes heals.
Sometimes corrects.
Sometimes waits.
Sometimes says no.
Always it seeks the true good of the other.
That is why Jesus is so free in the Gospel.
He does not need to impress the people at the table.
He does not need to win the argument.
He does not need to appear safe.
He simply does the good thing in front of Him.
That kind of freedom comes from knowing the Father.
And Saint Paul says what the result should be:
that we may be “pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruits of righteousness.”
There is the test.
Not: Did I win every argument?
Not: Did everybody approve?
But: Did love bear fruit?
Did truth make me more holy?
Did my religion make me more like Christ?
Because Jesus never separates holiness from love.
He heals the man. He honours the Father. He fulfils the law.
And He exposes the absurdity of a religion which can rescue an ox from a ditch but hesitate over a suffering human being.
That is worth remembering.
If our faith is making us less able to see the person in front of us, something has gone wrong.
Saint Paul gives us the better way: love, with knowledge and discernment.
And Jesus shows us what that looks like.
See the person. Know the truth.
Do the good.
And do not wait for everyone at the table to approve.
