What Does Love Require?
A Reflection on Christian Love In Light of Current Events
In recent days, many of us have watched images of suffering and unrest from Minneapolis and beyond—scenes that stir grief, anger, fear, and deep weariness in the human heart. And once again, we are reminded that tragedy, injustice, violence, and division are never far from our shared life in this world.
In moments like these, Christians are not called first into argument or abstraction, but into prayerful attention. A question has been resting heavily on my heart this week, offered by Bishop Craig Loya of the Episcopal Diocese of Minnesota:
“What does love require of us?”
Bishop Loya is not simply a public voice I admire from afar. I’ve known him personally for more than a decade, long before he was a Bishop, and I have had the blessing of studying, praying, and laughing alongside him. He is one of the most humble, faithful, and kind-hearted clerics to have ever worn the collar. And it is precisely that quiet integrity that makes his question land with such force:
What does love require of us?
That question echoes one of Scripture’s most enduring invitations:
“What does the Lord require of you but to do justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God?” (Micah 6:8)
This is not a theoretical question meant only for quiet reflection inside the church. It is a question that presses outward—into the streets, into our communities, into our relationships, into the places where people are hurting or unseen or struggling to survive. And it reminds us of something essential:
Christian love is not merely a feeling. It is a way of standing in the world.
It is a posture.
It is a resolve.
It is a clear-eyed willingness to tell the truth, even when the truth is hard.
It is the courage to stand with those who are marginalized, those who are the victims of injustice, and those whose lives have been pulled apart by split-second decisions and the crushing consequences that follow.
Christian love does not ignore suffering or rush past it. Love stays. Love sees. Love refuses to look away.
And providentially, the words of Jesus that shape this vision of love are not distant from us this week. The Beatitudes from Matthew 5—Jesus’ great opening proclamation of blessing—just so happen to be the Gospel appointed for this coming Sunday.
“Blessed are the poor in spirit… those who mourn… the meek… those who hunger and thirst for righteousness… the merciful… the peacemakers.”
Jesus is not saying these people are blessed because they suffer. He is saying they are blessed because God is near—near to those who grieve, near to those pushed aside, near to those longing for justice and restoration. The world as it is does not get the final word.
So what does love require of us now?
First, love requires attention. It asks us not to look away. It calls us to notice where pain is concentrated, to listen to those who mourn, and to recognize the dignity of neighbors who carry burdens we may not see.
Second, love requires solidarity. The Gospel reveals again and again that God does not instinctively side with power and privilege, but with the weak, the overlooked, and the vulnerable. Following Christ means standing with others not as a gesture of charity, but as an act of relationship.
Third, love requires action. To hunger and thirst for righteousness is to refuse complacency. Love may require speaking when silence is easier, advocating when it would be simpler to stay comfortable, showing up when hope feels fragile.
And finally, love requires risk. Jesus is honest: those who live the way of mercy and justice will sometimes be misunderstood. The Gospel has always been disruptive—not because it seeks conflict, but because it insists that peace cannot be built on arrogance or power, and love cannot remain safely theoretical— it must be externalized and released into the world.
But here is the good news: we do not do this alone. The kingdom Jesus announces is not something we manufacture—it is something we join. Every act of mercy, every step toward justice, every choice to love in a difficult moment is already caught up in God’s larger work of renewal.
So I invite you to carry that simple question into your days this week:
What does love require of you, right now?
In your conversations.
In your prayers.
In your relationships.
In the suffering of the world.
This question is not meant to burden us. It is meant to set us free—free to love as we have been loved, and free to become, together, a sign of God’s mercy, justice, and hope in a world that desperately needs them
Pax et Bonum!
Fr. Ben +
