From the very beginning of Mark’s Gospel, the scribes along with the chief priests have tried to find ways to trap, arrest, and kill Jesus. They’ve charged him with “blasphemy” (2:7); judged his eating company (2:16); claimed he had “Beelzebul” (3:22); and questioned his disciples’ hand-washing practices (7:1, 5). Once Jesus arrives in Jerusalem riding on a donkey, the flurry of confrontations sound strangely contemporary, focused on things like religious freedom (11:15-18), who holds authority and how that authority was attained (11:28), taxes (12:14), and a question connecting theology and marriage (12:23). Wave after wave of attack and test break upon Jesus.

So when yet another scribe steps up to engage Jesus, it would make sense to think “Here we go again…”

But something is different in the encounter found in our Gospel for today. The scribe saw that Jesus answered his interrogators well. I would love to be able to ask the writer of Mark what exactly it was about Jesus and his answers that moved the scribe to engage. My mind goes to persons I’ve observed in times of conflict or in the presence of anger or confusion who don’t get emotionally drawn in, who remain steady and thoughtful and present regardless of what they might be thinking or feeling. That kind of self-aware presence shifts the energy in the space. I imagine Jesus like that, as he speaks words dripping with wisdom and truth.

For some, that kind of presence and truth triggers defensiveness, jealousy, fear and all sorts of projections—like “Who does she think she is?” Or “He seems to think he’s better than us.” But for others, such a grounded, truthful presence breaks through the rising heat of conflict like a cool breeze that when experienced, pulls them back into themselves, cutting through the hot energy and defensive projections and connecting them to some precious part of their own soul. Perhaps Jesus’ way of being and speaking allows the scribe to listen beneath the fray to the deep truth of Jesus and to perceive a resonance in his own heart.

In any case, something had been stirred in the scribe because there is no implication of a test in the question about which commandment is first of all. And after Jesus responds invoking first the Shema from Deuteronomy 6 with its call to love God with our whole being and then citing Leviticus 19:18, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself” the scribe responds “You are right, teacher…” That’s it. There is no “you are right, but what about…?” Just “You are right” and an affirmation that love of God and neighbor is “much more important than all whole burnt offerings and sacrifices.”

Nothing in the story up to this point prepares us for this moment when Jesus and a scribe agree. Rather than getting caught up in the mob mentality, hooked by emotions, or looking for a wedge issue in which to trap Jesus, this scribe whose name is known to God alone, asked the most important question, the question whose answer draws people together in relationships of mutuality, dignity, and peace. And Jesus, in answering, draws upon what he has in common with the scribe as a fellow Jew, namely the central call in scripture to love God and neighbor. It seems like a simple thing when you think about it. The scribe approaches Jesus as a teacher rather than as an adversary, or as a threat, or a demon-possessed person, or as impure, or immoral, or heretical. And Jesus doesn’t discount the scribe as just another one of “those people” who are out to get him. From the text, it doesn’t appear that Jesus is defensive or assumes the worst. Rather, I imagine that the quality of Jesus’s presence was what made the encounter possible.

We don’t know, of course, whether the scribe and Jesus agreed on every interpretation or application of Jewish law. But what we are given in this story is a moment when affiliation, stereotypes, and distrust don’t keep two human beings from having a real conversation. It’s a moment when the commitment Jesus and the scribe share—to love God and love neighbor—is modeled in the way they engage. They meet as neighbors, focusing on things that matter most and drawing upon what they share in common.

This may indeed seem simple and like “of course that’s what we’re supposed to do.” Except in the story and in our lives that’s not the way things always go. I keep thinking of the teaching in the epistle of 1 John that says, “Those who say, ‘I love God,’ and hate a brother or sister are liars, for those who do not love a brother or sister, whom they have seen, cannot love God, whom they have not seen.”How many people say they love God but persist in viewing other people through stereotypes, or with hatred, or with fear? How many people of faith—how many people who claim the name “Christian”—sling ugly words and hate speech at others on social media and sometimes even in person? How many say they love God, but do nothing to ease the burdens of neighbors who suffer or heed the cries of the needy and oppressed? The polarization at this time in human history is so extreme, the distrust and anger so pervasive, that having a real conversation with someone from the “other side” is nearly impossible. Any hint that a person might be labeled a certain way determines our response to them—often evoking a less than charitable response.

And let’s be honest about how it’s not just other people who do this, but we do it too. Let’s be honest about how easy it is to fall into this way of thinking even when we try not to. For example, have you ever had a thought like: “I hate people who hate people!”.

Lumping people together based on anything. On whom they love or hate, race, accent, education, appearance, political affiliation, sexual orientation, personal style, gender identity, vocation, religion, immigration status, whatever. Lumping people together erases a person’s humanity and identity. You put a person in a category or under a label and all of a sudden they are no longer a person with a story and a family and a body and dreams. They become a thing. They might be a thing you consider good or a thing you consider bad but they become an object, not a subject. They can no longer be truly human.

While there are many concrete examples I could cite about this based on all sorts of criteria, I will share this one from writer Michael Harriot based on race: “That ‘anti-white’ sentiment people keep talking about is just the erosion of what I call the ‘privilege of individuality.’ White people aren’t accustomed to being lumped together and being defined by the actions of others. Welcome to the club.”

Being lumped together under any label is literally dehumanizing. And it is what our labels, stereotypes, racism and all the isms do. When we have successfully dehumanized people, it is much easier to blame, use, abuse, and kill them.

My guess is that there will be some listening to my words and thinking something like, “But some people are awful! Are we not supposed to call out those who harm the vulnerable? Are we not called to get into ‘good trouble’ for the sake of the Kin-dom?” The answer to those questions is simply “yes.” The call to love our neighbor requires that we actively resist evil, injustice, and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves.

But I also think that to truly love our neighbor requires being honest about the reality in our world and in our own lives, a reality that is much more complex than the easy dualisms and absolutes and “bubbles” so prevalent in our current context. People are always more than whatever label we might place on them, more than the “group” with which we believe they’re associated.

In one way or another, all of us are simply trying to find our way; and we often break things as we stumble around in that quest. The whole of the Gospel affirms that God’s way of dealing with a broken world and with broken lives is not to abandon, attack, or destroy, but to draw ever nearer in love, and mercy, and grace—even stepping directly into the mess of the world with us. Jesus shows us what it looks like to be truly human, perfectly reflecting the image of God’s love. Jesus never dehumanizes or allows a label or a mistake or a flaw to define a person.

That’s good news for the scribe and for any who might be written off with a stereotype. And it’s good news for all of us. Because it affirms that when we, like people from the beginning, misunderstand and get the scriptures twisted, when we are hard of heart and fail to understand the amazing grace of God, when we check out because things are complicated and difficult, when we become threatened and fearful of others and lump them into the category of “enemy,” when we get sucked into habits of stereotyping others and surrender to polarizing energies—even then, God loves us and will call us back to our more human self, our more compassionate, discerning, and loving self. God will give us grace to remember that love is the center of everything, that love is the deep truth that binds all hearts together. God will help us learn how to remain steady, thoughtful, and present even through our own emotions. God will give us grace to love our neighbors as Jesus loves, with an open mind and heart, and not only with words, but with concrete acts of care, mending, service, sacrifice, and solidarity. God will help us find our way.

Jesus who revealed the fullness of God’s way of love knew that even though his encounter with the wise scribe silenced further debates, it didn’t stop the fearful energies that would ultimately betray, deny, and kill him. Yet, Jesus placed his trust in the God of love, not in any human power, not in any emperor, platform, army, or president. Jesus placed his trust in the God of love as he continued to love God with all his heart, soul, mind, and strength and to love his neighbor as himself. As those who follow Jesus, our call is to do the same. Trust God and put love at the center. Let love be your fuel and your guide, not just at home or in the sanctuary but in the grocery store and in the ballot box and online and where you work and play.

Remember that even when the world did its worst: scapegoating, and gaslighting, betraying, slandering, and beating, the brave, tender heart and body of Jesus, remember that resurrection was on the other side. Trust the God whose love is stronger than death to bring you and our communities, our nation, and world through whatever trials may come and to a place of new life. And give thanks with the saints throughout the ages that even when our love fails, God’s love remains steadfast.

Thanks be to the God of love; thanks be to the God of peace; thanks be to the God of justice; thanks be to the God of wisdom, courage, and hope; thanks be to God who is alpha and omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end, ever present and true. Amen.