Armodoxy for Today: Love and Hate of the self

In the Gospel of John (chapter 12) Jesus meets a new group of people and as we mentioned yesterday, it was a pivotal point in his ministry.

He turns to them and says, He who loves his life will lose it, and he who hates his life will keep it for eternal life. Hard words to follow, indeed! How can we hate ourselves?

Here is a parable,

There were two men who lived on opposite ends of a mountain village. The first, Aram, spent his days building a name for himself. He raised the tallest house, hung the brightest lanterns, and made sure every gift he gave carried his signature. His light was brilliant, but it never left his own walls. The second, Sarkis, kept a small lamp. His home was simple, but his steps were many. He carried his lamp to the widow’s porch, to the sick man’s bedside, to the frightened child’s door. His light was small, but it traveled.

One winter night, a violent storm struck the village. Darkness swallowed every home. Aram’s lanterns burned fiercely — but only for him. He shut his doors to keep the cold out and the warmth in. Sarkis lit his little lamp and stepped into the storm. He guided families to safety, warmed shivering hands, and comforted the lonely. His lamp flickered, but it never failed.

When morning came, Aram’s house still stood, but no one remembered its glow. Sarkis’s lamp, though small, had touched every life. The villagers placed it in the center of the square, not because it was grand, but because it had shone for them.

And the elders would say to their children: “A lamp kept for oneself burns out with the night. A lamp carried for others becomes the dawn.”

And here is the truth: The light you keep for yourself dies with you. The light you give away becomes your legacy. This is what Jesus means when He says, “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” (John 12)

A life lived for the self is a bright lantern in an empty room. A life lived for others becomes a lamp carried from heart to heart — long after we are gone.

Dedicated to Uncle Johnny Kaishian: 1934-2026