“The most holy is the one who loves most.” That is the kind of sentence you might find on a T-shirt or a bumper sticker. It could be a candidate for a pithy saying offered by a spiritual guru who seems to have life all figured out. However, it caught my eye as words stenciled on a wall while visiting a church. Thankfully, the message was not of the “Mene, mene, tekel, parsin” variety from the book of Daniel, but it gave me pause just the same; enough so that I jotted the words in my notes so that I could think more about it later. If the goal of the message was to get surprised readers to think, then mission accomplished. If it was to impart wisdom to me, then a manual or a QR code would have been helpful because I run into gaps when I try to connect these dots.
The sentence seemed like a wise saying at the outset, and perhaps it is. But I must confess that now whenever I read them, I wonder what the heck do they mean anyway? Is it a less greedy sounding version of “The one who dies with the most toys wins?” I come from a tradition that would agree holiness is something to which we should aspire, though we’d be unlikely to suggest we’ve ever achieved it (though we’ll certainly hope you notice!). So far as I can recall, holiness was never presented as a competition, unless you count Sunday School Bible quizzes and verse recitations. However, adding the word “most” to almost anything leads to comparisons where we consider what appears to be “lesser” or “least” when viewed alongside that which is “most.” And face it. In almost every category, our society takes a “more is better” position. More money. More choices. More square footage. So of course more holiness must be better than less holiness or no holiness at all.
Honestly, it isn’t the word “most” that intrigues me in this one sentence instructional guide. Rather, it is the word “holy.” What is it? Why does it matter? Is it connected with our understanding of love? Frankly, though there are some well-known exceptions, some who would claim to rank among the holiest are known more by their snootiness and arrogance than their love. If this saying has merit, it may need to travel a rocky road to become generally accepted.
As a child, hearing about holiness sounded a bit Wizard of Ozish. Smoke and mystery shielded a powerful voice that barked instructions like the 10 Commandments and made statements like “You shall be holy because I am holy.” That is an incredibly difficult thing to hear from a deity who can’t be seen and who is shrouded in mystery. It is hard to imitate what you don’t really know. The challenge is compounded when those who purportedly represent the divine can’t agree on what God is like or how holiness is to be expressed.
From grad school days, I remember how clarifying it seemed initially to learn that in Hebrew holy, or kadosh, comes from the root word kadash, meaning “set apart for a specific purpose.” It leant justification to thinking of Israel as a set apart people. It undergirded the idea for Christians to be “in the world but not of it.” From “being set apart” it is a small step to begin thinking of one’s self as special and chosen. Being chosen is great when we are talking about the baseball team at recess; maybe not so much if you’re chosen from a police lineup. It feels like a tremendous honor when the Creator of the universe selects you to join Team Holy Rollers. But how is that separateness to be accomplished? Is it geographical? Is it a matter of lifestyle? Is it value driven? Do we get matching T-shirts? Does it require severing ties with those not on our team?
It seems the pursuit of holiness often comes with a certain seriousness that sets playfulness and lightheartedness aside. There is a standard to be set; a goal to be attained. However admirable the quest for holiness may be, it can foster separation and arrogance when taken alone. Once while attending a professional event, attendees chose a church to attend together on Sunday morning. As we settled into a seat prior to the beginning of the service, we noticed a small group was missing. They all belonged to the same denomination. Later that afternoon we learned they had their own private service elsewhere because their tradition required it. The rest of us were a little stunned. Colleagues? Yes. Friends? Yes. But one in the Spirit? Hmm. Apparently not. This holiness business can have a rough edge.
Admittedly, holiness can be more difficult to achieve or maintain in certain environments. Two books I have read in recent years are Quakernomics and Chocolate Wars. Each gives attention to Quaker business practices, which were an effort to apply their own religious convictions to the practice of their livelihoods – in effect, holiness in action. Two take aways from those books are that when Quaker businesses reached the point of being unable to control the resources used in their businesses and/or became publicly held rather than privately owned enterprises, their abilities to maintain values/religious commitments/one might say holiness, soon weakened and in some cases were lost. Separation it seems, even for the best of motives, is easier said than done in some cases. Furthermore the cost to those who successfully maintain their separation can be exceedingly high.
Must holiness require separation that is absolute? Those who dare to identify themselves as most holy sometimes feel compelled to find words to define those less holy or not at all holy in their opinion. It is part of an understandable effort to identify and distinguish. Heathen. Sinner. Infidel. The outcome can be ruthless and cruel. Maybe those descriptions are accurate, but how do we know for sure? Who, other than God, gets to decide? It would seem that holiness can be complicated stuff.
Also, there is the question of love. When and how is love yoked to the idea of holiness? I remember a conversation in which someone outlined their biblically supported understanding of a peace testimony. It drew heavily on passages where it would seem God advocates for peace, such as “The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together.” (Isaiah 11:6) The fact that there was biblical support for the position sealed the deal for my friend. My response was something along the lines of, “Granted, there is plenty of support for peace in those pages, but there is also a strong current of God as a Divine Warrior. War, violence, and loss of life occurs in this same Bible, often said to be divinely sanctioned and motivated by certain understandings of holiness. How will you deal with those?” To be clear, I’m not advocating violence as an expression of holiness, but rather suggesting we be careful about cherry picking our theology lest we simply identify God with the qualities we find most desirable.
For many in this time and place, adding love to any equation is the answer. Love almost always adds space for breadth and diversity. It heals hurts and heartaches like the richest of balms. Its inclusivity softens the brazen harshness that can occur where separations exist. For that reason, love and holiness can make exceptional teammates – but usually not to the point of eradicating standards and undermining specific commitments. That often becomes the breaking point where groups find it impossible not to splinter. In these instances, loving most may have more in common with turning the other cheek than gathering the most toys.
Holiness creates a predicament for which I have no good answer, but here are a few thoughts aimed at progress on the topic:
A person’s understanding of holiness very much depends on their point of view. If you want proof, compare the views of holiness in priestly material with that of the prophets or that contained in Wisdom literature’s musing. You may begin to wonder if they were drinking from the same well. Given we are raised and formed in differing cultures with varying values, we should expect that will continue to be the case. We must learn to deal with it, and navigate appropriately.
Consider allowing for, or at least respecting, those differences when they are rooted in a sincere effort to be faithful to God’s work in their lives. Even so, however expressed, it would seem to me that actions and attitudes in the name of holiness should promote reconciliation horizontally and vertically – that is to say, between the individual and the divine, and between the one and the many. If that is to be true, attempts to be holy should never inflict lasting harm. The moment we view inflicting harm as acceptable practice, I fear we have crossed a line and claimed authority that is not ours.
Perhaps holiness is ultimately about depth of presence and quality of being. I’ll need another blog to unpack what that means for me. For now, suffice it to say it is what occurs when we are committed to being our best self in the moment, however dicey the situation may be. With that, I don’t care if I’m never the “most holy” or “holier than you,” so long as I can be holy enough to help good things materialize wherever I happen to be.
