Herbert O’Driscoll beautifully described John’s Gospel as a “remembering,” a deeply personal reflection on the life of Christ as experienced by John and his community. In essence, John sought to articulate the profound meaning of Christ’s life as one defined by self-emptying love – a love that descended into the depths of human experience, embracing the forgotten and the lost. This concept of Christ’s descent before his ascent is powerfully echoed in St. Francis de Sales’ reflection: “Where there is no love, put love and you will find love.” This suggests a fundamental truth: there is no place, no situation, where the love and mercy of God cannot reach, where God’s yearning for connection with us is absent. Even when we ask ourselves, Will Love Be There in the darkest moments, the answer, according to this understanding, is a resounding yes.
This unwavering presence is perhaps most strikingly illustrated in the line from the creed, “He descended into hell.” This isn’t a literal descent into a fiery abyss, but a symbolic representation of God’s presence even in the most desolate and despairing places of human existence. As a survivor of the Holocaust poignantly stated, “I’ve already been to hell.” This “hell” encompasses the extreme suffering, separation, and abandonment that humans experience. Yet, even here, the Judeo-Christian tradition insists on God’s presence. The Hebrew God, the God of Moses, is depicted as seeing the affliction of the Israelites in slavery. Israel, meaning “to wrestle with God,” finds God present in their “hell” of bondage, calling Moses to lead them to liberation. For Christians, Christ embodies this very descent, personifying God’s loving presence in the “hells” of our lives – those times when we feel utterly alone and separated. Even then, divine love arrives.
Evelyn Underhill recounts a story that further illuminates this profound concept. A holy man, when asked if he could bear to be present with Christ in hell, responded, “I’d rather be with Christ in hell than in heaven without Him.” This powerful statement underscores that true heaven isn’t a location, but the presence of divine love. Even in the metaphorical “hells” of our lives, the presence of love transforms the experience.
John’s Gospel emphasizes a continuous outpouring of this divine love. It flows from the Divine source, through Christ, into the Spirit, and then into us. This isn’t a one-way street; as divine love and mercy flow back to the Divine, this endless exchange perpetuates, overflowing into creation itself. This cyclical flow is the lifeblood of the universe, a constant renewal and reaffirmation of love’s presence.
However, John wrote at a time when this flow seemed disrupted, sixty or seventy years after Jesus’ death. His community was fractured, some had turned back to the familiar comforts of the Roman Empire’s gods, and persecution loomed over both Christians and Jews. The destruction of the Temple and the systematic extermination of Jews in Jerusalem and North Africa were within living memory. The nascent Christian communities, still closely linked to Judaism, also faced the brutality of Roman campaigns. John’s potential distancing from Jewish communities might have stemmed from fear in the face of this relentless persecution. Throughout history, tragically, it has often been only the rarest of saints who have stood in solidarity with the Jewish people amidst persecution, while many Christians have remained silent or even participated in their oppression.
So, how do we embody this love for one another, ensuring we remain open to God’s love as it moves through people, time, and nature, especially when we question, will love be there? The answer lies in descent, mirroring Christ’s self-emptying love for the marginalized, the forgotten, and the suffering. It is in these “hells” – the Auschwitzes, the realities of racist societies, the devastation of earthquakes, famines, and oppression – that when love is actively offered, love can indeed be found. It is not a passive hope but an active participation in bringing love into these spaces.
Despite the historical context of fear and persecution, John’s vision is ultimately one of continuous flow and exchange, where love’s energy sustains and grows. This resonates with Albert Einstein’s profound insight, shared by his daughter in a letter. Einstein stated that the true spiritual energy of the universe isn’t E=MC², but E=LOVE. This love, as John recognized centuries ago, is a force that spills over into the universe, building, renewing, and constantly reshaping our understanding of what it means to be human. It is a powerful energy that answers the question, will love be there? with an unwavering and transformative presence, if we choose to embody and extend it.
