The Form of Power Is Love
26th Sunday of the Year
The word “power” has an ugly ring to it. If someone seeking office campaigns from a platform of “wanting power for themselves,” they won’t get very far, at least not in a democratic society where “power” is said to reside in the hands of the people. If someone justifies their decisive action on the grounds that they “have the power” to do as they will, they are not likely to win many to their cause. If someone were to propose a plot of constructing “rings of power” for the sake of dominating the elemental forces of nature, or worse, for manipulating the minds and hearts of people, only those who likewise thirst for such power would go along with it. In nearly any context, “power” is an ugly word.
At the same time, in practically every prayer we make to God, we acknowledge and call upon his power. Words like “almighty,” “ever-living,” and, of course, “all-powerful” are but a few ways in which God’s power is routinely invoked. In our language, expressions like these seem reserved to God alone—things we’d shudder to think, let alone say, about a human person, and yet we say them of God with ease.
It’s worth asking why the idea of God’s power does not fill us with fear? If God is all-powerful, would it not be in his power to do whatever he wants? Could he not use his power against us? Could his power, in a sense, go to his head—a head that is already, in every way, infinitely greater than ours? Would we not, then, worship a God who is, at his very essence, a tyrant—one who rules by his power alone? If we did fear God’s power, we wouldn’t be alone. Ancient religions far and wide thought of divine powers in this exact way. Why, then, do we not? Why are we comfortable with, even devoted to, the idea of an all-powerful God?
Many of you know I have a dog. I got him as a puppy earlier this year and he’s now nine months old. He may not always be willing to admit it, but I am his master. And as his master, I have the privilege of exercising power over him. But in the way I use my power, I have a choice to make. I can either rule him with an iron fist. Or I can entice him with care, affection, and, of course, treats. I won’t pretend I’ve mastered the art of taming corgis, but raising Floyd has taught me when and how to do a bit of both. In making that choice, however, what I as the one with power need to discern is which use of my power he’ll understand better. He may have done something he shouldn’t have done, but if more than a few seconds have passed, he won’t be able to associate the correction I give him with his bad behavior. He’ll just be confused and, possibly, respect my authority less; and the bad behavior will continue. Nine times out of ten, the better approach, instead, is when he next does the opposite good behavior is to reward him with praise and, again, treats. In short, what I’ve learned is that love gets you further than force.
Now, there’s a principle in Catholic theology that says that however great a similarity there may be between God and anything, there is an infinitely greater difference between them. If I think about my relationship between me and my dog, I can understand something of the relationship between God and me, but the real distance between God and me will always be infinitely greater than the distance between me and my dog.
So, if it is true that, in dog training, love is a more effective use of power than sheer force, then if this is true also of God, it is infinitely more true of God than it is of anything else. And we don’t need to guess whether it is true of God, because the liturgy today, grounded in Scripture, tells us that it is. In the Collect, we prayed: “O God, who manifest your almighty power above all by pardoning and showing mercy...” The greatest way in which God shows and uses his power is through love.
And it is because we have received his love that we do not fear but, in fact, love God’s power. If I only ever exercised my power over my dog without love, my dog would love me less. And if God only exercised his power over us without love, we would love him less. But his love inspires our own. He has loved us, and so we love him. And it is because of his constant love for us that we keep on loving him, and he so loves the love he inspires in us that he keeps on loving us in ever greater measure. The reason we do not fear God’s power is because we know that it’s because of his power that he’s able to love. He has the power to love us even when we don’t love him, when we turn away from him, when we reject his offer of love. Only an all-powerful God could love us even in light of our lack of power to love him in return. In the same way, it’s only because of God’s all-powerful love for us that we can have the power to love at all. And the Lord calls us to love as we are loved, to be merciful as the Father is merciful.
In the Gospel, Jesus reveals that at the heart of all true power is love. The disciples are annoyed because they’ve been given power to drive out demons, but they’ve heard about someone else, not one of Jesus’ disciples, doing the same. The problem is that the disciples think of their power as something external they’ve been given, like a secret skill that Jesus has unlocked for them that sets them apart from everyone else. And yet this guy, whoever he is, hasn’t received the same power, so they conclude his work must be from a source other than Christ. Yet Jesus replies with the truth: “Do not prevent him. There is no one who performs a mighty deed in my name who can at the same time speak ill of me.” Christ reveals that it’s love—love of him—that makes all things possible. What this unnamed exorcist has, that perhaps even his own disciples do not, is love. If he performs this action in Christ’s name, he must love Christ, and because he loves Christ, he has the power to do it. Power, in the final analysis, is not something external bestowed upon us, which is prone to corruption; power is poured into our hearts by the love of the all-powerful God who has first chosen to love us. Only when we recognize that do we have the power to love as God loves.
“Power” has an ugly ring to it, and we might shy away from the thought, but it would be better if we were to admit that we all have power. We have power in our responsibilities, our jobs, and in our relationships. It may not always be obvious, but each one of us has power over people in ways great and small. That can make us afraid, and sometimes it should. Our fallen human nature will often get the better of us. But the Lord invites us today to remember that in which true power consists and to return to the all-powerful love in which we are loved. If we do all for love of Christ, then we will never be against him or against anyone else.
If we allow the Lord’s power to manifest itself every day to us in the form of love, pardon, and mercy, then by his grace, then our power will look more and more like his. And if we allow our power to be transformed by his, then as the rest of today’s Collect prays, he will “make those hastening to attain your promises heirs to the treasures of heaven.” Amen.
Homily preached September 29, 2024 at Mount St. Mary’s University.