Words Were Never What They Meant

When I was growing up, I somehow came to the conclusion that what people said was rarely, if ever, what they actually meant. I always thought that there was an underlying hidden message. When my parents were children, they were injured by problems with alcoholism in their mothers, and by excessive work from their fathers. So I think that, just to survive, my parents had to learn how to read between the lines. I remember many conversations that my parents would have after a social gathering where they’d recount what someone said, and then discuss what it really meant. Just as an example, someone might mention something about a kitchen remodel. Then they’d hear that and decide that what was really being shared is that the person was somehow angry with their contractor, even though that was not discussed at all.

So for me, I went through my childhood and my young adult years assuming that what people said didn’t count for much. What I relied upon instead were my observations about the actions and choices made by others. The only way I knew that any of the people I hung around were actual friends was if they would choose to go out of their way for something that helped me. Otherwise, I’m actually just in the space of a person who is doing what they want. If a person doesn’t sacrifice for another person, then it is hard to argue that there is any love whatsoever in that relationship.

The Greek word used repeatedly in the Gospel that is translated into English as “love” is agape. And the Greek word agape has more precision in its meaning than the overly broad and sometimes catchall word “love.” A person has agape love for another when they care to do what is best for them even if it becomes inconvenient or burdensome. Agape love typically implies sacrifice. It is doing good things for others not because it is something we desire, but because a choice is made to do good for the other.

In Mark chapter 12, in the story of the greatest commandment, Jesus is asked which commandment is first. The answer he gives is love of God with everything, and love of neighbor as yourself. The word underneath that love is this agape. It is not a mood. It is a choice that costs something.

In my own personal spiritual journey, I had a lot of steps to make from a kind of deist to a Catholic Christian who believes in Christ and his Church. I remember with great clarity one of those steps where I had learned enough history about Jesus to come to the conclusion that he really was God. But I wondered if he was really a loving God. Maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he was just saying that he was. Words are cheap. For me, the answer to this question — is God a loving God? — was the choice Jesus made to undergo his Passion and death on the Cross. That is a huge sacrifice. That is the image of agape love.

One way for us to return this agape love back to Jesus is through our reception of the Eucharist. Some of the symbols of our commitment when we receive the Eucharist come from the way marriage commitments were made at the time of Jesus. The tradition back then is that the man would hand a glass with wine in it to a woman he wanted to marry. If she took a drink from the wine glass, then they were betrothed, which was a commitment to marry. The actual marriage would happen about a year later, but if they wanted to break it off, it required a legal divorce.

When the Eucharist is received under the appearance of wine, the person who drinks is making a commitment to Christ and his Church. That commitment comes with both the benefits of the graces that come from Christ through his Church and the consequences of the difficulties when the Church is asking something of us that we may not like. Those difficulties are our opportunity to return the agape love back to God.

Two questions follow from this. In what way am I receiving God’s grace through his Church? In what way is God’s Church asking me to return agape love through the choice to sacrifice?

If you grew up in a house where words were never what they meant, start by naming what the house taught you. A kind sentence had a bill behind it. A kitchen remodel meant anger. Survival taught you to watch the action, not the sentence. That can protect you. Write that down before you try to unlearn it. You do not have to trust a kind sentence this week.

Then separate two kinds of people. If the person in front of you is still harming you, or the house is still unsafe, do not treat their words as a test of your faith. Leave. Get help. Call 988 or local emergency services if you are in danger now. Reading between the lines kept people alive in that kind of house. Do not turn this article into a reason to stay.

If the person in front of you is not that house, and you still cannot receive a plain sentence, that is the old map. Ask for one costly action you can see, and also notice one sentence that matched the action. Friendship, in this homily, was someone going out of their way. You can look for that. You do not have to decode a remodel into rage in order to stay safe.

God’s love, in this Gospel, is not a sentence you have to translate. The Cross is the action. You can receive that without first proving you already trust every human voice. The work is slower than one Mass. Watch what people do. Let a matching word count. Refuse the house that only ever meant something else.

This is a pastoral reflection, not clinical care and not a substitute for it. If you or someone you love is in immediate danger, call 988 or local emergency services.

Drawn from a homily first preached in 2018.