Back to Bodies for a moment.
I’m being vague to avoid spoilers, but as the plot unfolds, the origin and significance of the phrase “know you are loved” comes into focus. In the show’s lore, the person who originated the phrase had pure intentions at first. But over time, the words became a rallying cry, used as a tool to justify horrific acts with supposedly honorable motivations. The subtext was unmistakable: “Yes, I know this thing that I’m doing seems harsh and unloving, but trust that I’m doing it for ultimately loving reasons.”
The twisting of this phrase strikes me as an incredible metaphor for the broader evangelical church. We slip into thinking that because we have a duty to show the love of Jesus to people, that duty must be expressed as ultimate loyalty to the institution of church and the people with whom we associate therein. So we do things to protect our people, our buildings, our budgets, and our reputations. Protecting those perceived as outsiders becomes secondary, then tertiary. Eventually it just fades away.
Over time, these decisions can shape us into something other than Christlike. Our ability to evangelize is compromised. The people we say we want to reach, the people to whom we declare God’s love, do not believe it. Whether it’s through racism, Christian nationalism, or sexism and misogyny, they see too many church leaders routinely using the idea of love as a smoke screen to camouflage their lust for power or extreme self-preservation. I know because I hear this all the time from my friends outside the faith. “If that’s your idea of what love is,” they say, “then I don’t want it.”
This is despite clear instructions in Scripture to the contrary. Mark 12:31 tells us to love our neighbors as ourselves. First John 4:7-8 tells us that love comes from God and anyone who doesn’t love does not know God. And the most famous is from 1 Corinthians 13:
“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres” (vv. 4-7, NIV).
Even though this passage is often quoted at weddings, when Paul wrote those words, he was talking to leaders of the faith communities in Corinth, a city known for its wickedness. In the broader context of the whole letter, Paul addresses other issues of importance for unity and fidelity to Christ’s teachings, including matters related to spiritual gifts, lawsuits between people, married life, and sexual immorality. But the thirteenth chapter is about love because love is supposed to govern us as we make these everyday choices as leaders in our homes, churches, and in the broader community.
This need for love as a governing force or a prioritizing principle becomes evident when we recognize how precious and short life really is. None of us knows exactly how long we have left on this earth, but we do know that just as we came from dust, to dust we will eventually return. This is the point of Ash Wednesday, and it is the point of love.
Commentary
The Secret to Love Exists in Our Bodies
A few months back, I watched a dramatic series on Netflix called Bodies. It’s a British murder mystery with elements of bioengineering and time travel, adapted from a graphic novel of the same name. The series jumps between past, present, and future as four different detectives grapple to solve the same murder that appears to have happened in 1890, 1941, 2023, and 2053.
The most memorable element of the series was the use of the phrase “know you are loved,” which is repeated several times throughout. This is a mild spoiler, but the first time we hear it, it’s uttered by someone suspected of criminal activity, right before they take their own life. The dramatic irony is thick—why in the world would someone say that before doing something so gruesome? That question hooked me into watching.
I was reminded of that feeling when I saw an exchange someone recently posted onto social media:
“What are you doing on February 14 this year?”
“Me? I’ll be smearing dirt on people’s faces and telling them that they’re gonna die.”
Through an odd coincidence in the liturgical calendar this year, Ash Wednesday falls on February 14, also known as Valentine’s Day. That means there’s an even stronger than usual thematic juxtaposition of love and death. Stronger because as we grow and mature as adults, many of us automatically maintain a connection between love and death through our grief. As Vision famously said to Wanda, “What is grief if not love persevering?” When a loved one passes away, grief turns their absence into a marker, a mental and emotional memorial helping us to remember our connection to that person, a connection that remains even after they’re no longer with us.
Truthfully, love has always been connected to death. Before it was commercialized into a promotional for Hallmark cards, flower shops, and chocolate, Valentine’s Day was known as the Feast of Saint Valentine, who was celebrated as a martyred servant who provided assistance and support to Christians suffering persecution. I don’t entirely blame advertisers for leaning into the romantic love angle that Saint Valentine’s Day eventually turned into. You’re not gonna move a lot of gift baskets by focusing on emaciated souls oppressed to the brink of death by cruel jailors complicit in a system of mass incarceration.
But when we try to sever the thematic link between love and death, we miss the point.
Back to Bodies for a moment.
I’m being vague to avoid spoilers, but as the plot unfolds, the origin and significance of the phrase “know you are loved” comes into focus. In the show’s lore, the person who originated the phrase had pure intentions at first. But over time, the words became a rallying cry, used as a tool to justify horrific acts with supposedly honorable motivations. The subtext was unmistakable: “Yes, I know this thing that I’m doing seems harsh and unloving, but trust that I’m doing it for ultimately loving reasons.”
The twisting of this phrase strikes me as an incredible metaphor for the broader evangelical church. We slip into thinking that because we have a duty to show the love of Jesus to people, that duty must be expressed as ultimate loyalty to the institution of church and the people with whom we associate therein. So we do things to protect our people, our buildings, our budgets, and our reputations. Protecting those perceived as outsiders becomes secondary, then tertiary. Eventually it just fades away.
Over time, these decisions can shape us into something other than Christlike. Our ability to evangelize is compromised. The people we say we want to reach, the people to whom we declare God’s love, do not believe it. Whether it’s through racism, Christian nationalism, or sexism and misogyny, they see too many church leaders routinely using the idea of love as a smoke screen to camouflage their lust for power or extreme self-preservation. I know because I hear this all the time from my friends outside the faith. “If that’s your idea of what love is,” they say, “then I don’t want it.”
This is despite clear instructions in Scripture to the contrary. Mark 12:31 tells us to love our neighbors as ourselves. First John 4:7-8 tells us that love comes from God and anyone who doesn’t love does not know God. And the most famous is from 1 Corinthians 13:
“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres” (vv. 4-7, NIV).
Even though this passage is often quoted at weddings, when Paul wrote those words, he was talking to leaders of the faith communities in Corinth, a city known for its wickedness. In the broader context of the whole letter, Paul addresses other issues of importance for unity and fidelity to Christ’s teachings, including matters related to spiritual gifts, lawsuits between people, married life, and sexual immorality. But the thirteenth chapter is about love because love is supposed to govern us as we make these everyday choices as leaders in our homes, churches, and in the broader community.
This need for love as a governing force or a prioritizing principle becomes evident when we recognize how precious and short life really is. None of us knows exactly how long we have left on this earth, but we do know that just as we came from dust, to dust we will eventually return. This is the point of Ash Wednesday, and it is the point of love.
Back to “bodies” one more time—not the show, but the word itself.
February is Black History Month. And I’ve noticed in recent years how many social justice thinkers and activists, people like Te-Nehisi Coates and Michelle Alexander, tend to use the phrase “black bodies” instead of the more common “black people.” There are many reasons for, theories behind, and opinions of this phenomenon. When I read that phrase, it evokes for me a visceral sense of our humanity. As Black people, when we love mercy and do justice, we put our lives on the line—metaphorically and sometimes literally. That embodied reality informs our theology and shapes our worship. As James Weldon Johnson wrote in the third verse of “Lift Every Voice and Sing,” we honor the God of our weary years and our silent tears. We understand God not simply as an abstraction, but as someone who knows us intimately, who understands the toll that a life pursuing justice takes on our bodies.
This understanding of our bodies as fragile, and of life itself as meaningful in its finitude, is the key to renewing our sense of love—for our loved ones, our neighbors, and even ourselves. The strongest connection between love and death is expressed in John 3:16, that God loved us so much he allowed the death of his son. This is the example toward which we all aspire. We only get one short life to share God’s love, and how effectively we do so is the legacy we leave behind after we’re gone.
So yes, by all means—know that you are loved. Loved by God, your family, and hopefully, your community.
But let’s not be content only to know it. We must also show it—with our words, our actions, and yes, even our bodies.
Jelani Greenidge
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