shema (sh əˈmä)

A while ago we had our children memorize the shema.

We say it together as a family before dinner each evening.

With our pinkies upraised.

Which serves as a handy visual reminder of the strength God has even in His smallest finger.  (Exodus 8:19)

(And also – it’s just pretty cute to see Willow’s little pinkie upright and Otto’s two-inch fist as he tries to imitate us nightly.)

The shema is no Hebrew mystery.

It’s no magic incantation.

The shema is just two verses from the Bible that Jesus declared sum up the whole book pretty accurately.

Hear O Israel.  The Lord is your God.  The Lord alone.  Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your might .  And love your neighbor as yourself.

(And like all good truth, it comes back to haunt you – right?)

In our house, it’s been great parenting advice.

It’s been the answer to almost every question I have to ask.

It settles most any argument between our youngest family members.

Did that action show love?

Are you loving your neighbor as yourself right now?

Does that expression on your face show that you are loving God with all your heart?

I ask the kids these questions all day long.

All.  Day.  Long.

And sometimes I think those verses are some sort of great discipline theory, but their application ends at adulthood.

Or, at least, that’s how I act.

Recently I was tripping over a situation in my mind.

Thinking about this reaction and that reaction.

About words I wanted to say but had not.

Actions I wanted to take, but did not.

And I was thinking, what is the right attitude here?

What is acceptable behavior?

What isn’t?

And then I remembered my pinkie.

And the shema.

And the questions I pelt down like rain on my young children every day.

Love God.  Love my neighbor as myself.

Oh.

It’s really that simple.

And that hard.

What kind of grace do I want?

Endless.

Never ceasing.

Forever.

I want the impossible

but am only

willing to give

the mediocre.

I want constant forgiveness.

People to read my mind.

To know my heart.

To recognize my intentions.

Persistent grace.

Never ceasing mercy.

What we are all incapable of offering.

Of our own strength.

I want

all that love.

All that grace.

All that mercy.

All the time.

It would seem that I want the love for myself that I am unwilling to give my neighbor.

Which means

that I find it extraordinarily difficult to love God with all my heart

because

so much of my heart

is seeking itself.

And that is

not

the point.

That is

not

the shema.

That is

not

the whole crux

of the

good news.