(You can listen to this reflection here.)
Here are two things that do not go together: love and commandments! Since when is keeping commandments a sign of love? What happened to flowers and chocolate? Oh, it starts out okay; Jesus tells his followers, “As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love.”
(This Sunday's gospel reading is here.)
That I get - the love which we have received is what we give to others; love is something we can abide in, hang out with. That sounds beautiful and comforting and profound and unconditional. But Jesus isn’t finished: “If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love.”
I know those psalms that talk about how “the law of the Lord" is sweet, like honey, but I think of commandments as “shoulds” and love as “want to” and never the twain shall meet. This verse makes it sound as if God’s love is not unconditional after all, but highly contingent upon our ability to obey. Since I tend to prize unconditional love above all other theological concepts, and because I think efforts to obey are bound to end in failure, disappointment and self-condemnation, I react negatively to this word.
But let’s take a closer look. Jesus is not saying, “If you keep my commandments, I will keep loving you.” He says, “As you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love.” There is no change to the love in which we are invited to abide, only in our capacity for experiencing that love. Keeping Jesus’ commandments, he is saying, makes us better able to swim in the love of God flowing to and around us at all times. It puts us in the “head space” and “heart space” to receive – and give – the love of God.
Jesus best made visible God’s love for humanity. He lived it, taught it, demonstrated it, and finally died and rose again to complete it here on earth. He is saying that it was his fidelity to God’s commandments that made him able to manifest God’s love. Similarly, our fidelity to his commandments makes us able to show forth his love in this world. We need only recall times when we’ve been in the grip of attitudes or behaviors that were outside of God’s will for us to know how much our ability to love can become compromised.
Could it be that God’s commandments are not about our ability to “be good,” but intended rather to enable us to be Love? Perhaps I think of commandments as guilt-inducing rather than loving because trying to live into God’s commands without the power of God’s love at work in us is an uphill climb. With God’s love flowing through us, it becomes more like riding a bike with plenty of gears, so we can keep a steady pace no matter what the terrain.
Where are you experiencing a lot of love in your life, from God or other people, or from yourself toward others? Where is it a little choked off? Are there adjustments you can make to the way you are thinking, acting, loving, to become more Christ-like?
It’s a chicken-and-egg thing. We can’t fully live into God’s commands without God’s love in us, and we can’t fully abide in God’s love without living the way God commands us. The great news is that, as we increase in each area, the other increases too – the more we abide in God’s love, the easier it is to live God’s way, until we discover that living God’s way opens us to more love than we could ever imagine.
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(You can listen to this reflection here.)
“Apart from me, you can do nothing.”
Context is everything. These words, to modern ears, can sound insufferably egomaniacal, pompous, even abusive. Spoken by Jesus, to his closest followers, shortly before he takes his leave of them forever? Loving truth about where their power for ministry comes from.
“I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing. Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned.”
If we are talking vines and branches, it’s clear: a branch cannot generate fruit if it is cut off from the vine. And a branch cut off from the vine, whether by pruning shears or by withering, is good for nothing. But what about when we’re talking people? Disciples? Can there be no good done in the world without its doers being connected to Jesus?
This passage does not address that question. Jesus is talking here to insiders, believers, disciples. He has been training them in the ways of the Realm of God, equipping them to participate in the mission of God to reclaim, restore and renew all of creation to wholeness. THAT fruit, he says, is not possible apart from him. There might be all kinds of holy people, makers of peace, bringers of justice who have no discernible connection to God in Jesus Christ. But ministers of the Good News? We need to be connected to the Vine.
What kind of nutrients come through a vine to its branches and ultimately to the fruit they bear? I’m not a plant biologist, so only speculate generally. I imagine there are sugars and enzymes needed for growth, for warding off diseases, for the formation of fruit. As the vine harnesses nutrition from its roots in the soil, and the water it receives, and the chemicals unleashed by the sunshine, it passes along to the branches what they need to be as whole and life-giving as possible. And the only way the branch gets what it needs to be fruitful is through staying connected to the vine.
So let’s transfer the metaphor to us. Jesus says he is the Vine, we are the branches. He is rooted in the long tradition of God's activity since before time. He is himself the source of the Water of Life. He is glorified in the light of God; indeed he is the Light of the World. Through our connection to him - united with him in baptism, renewed in him in prayer and holy eucharist – we receive everything we need to exercise ministries of transformation.
And how do we stay connected? By spending time with him in prayer; by gathering with other branches regularly; through the Word, the sacraments; through the exercise of ministry in his Name – which means, letting his Spirit work amazing things through us. We can feel the difference between doing good work on our own strength, and how it feels when we're running on Holy Spirit wind. When we allow ourselves to be filled and "loved through," those nutrients come through to us from the Vine.
Branches are not responsible for the fruit they bear. We just need to be as connected as possible, and if the vine is healthy, the fruit will grow. Our Vine is Jesus – we can trust there will be wonderful fruit as we are faithful. Here endeth the metaphor!
(On Wednesday, I wrote about how the term "abiding" is not in use in our days. A quick Water Daily reader sent along this link to a clip from The Big Lebowski - the Dude abides!)
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(You can listen to this reflection here.)
In the northern hemisphere, we are coming into the season of fruit – beautiful, juicy, luscious, abundant fruit of every shape, size, color, taste. Fruit is one of God's greatest gifts.
And fruit is the one criterion for success as a Christ follower. Jesus said, “I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing... My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples.”
And later in this long teaching, he says, “You did not choose me. I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last.” (John 15:16).
What does it mean to bear fruit? It goes deeper than simply being productive. Productivity involves outcomes and measurable results, things you can tick off a task list. Fruitfulness obviously includes a product – the fruit – but fruit develops in different ways on varying timetables. And we don’t “produce” fruit – we grow it. Rather, we allow it to grow; we can't make it grow. We can only create the right circumstances for it to grow. And we can't hurry it. (Somebody tell tomato growers that...).
I love productivity – especially if I have produced things I can see: articles, songs, sermons, spreadsheets, newsletters. On a day with many pastoral appointments and meetings, I have trouble feeling I’ve “done” anything, because the outcomes aren’t visible and measurable. Jesus invites me to value fruitfulness more than productivity.
How can we assess fruitfulness in ministry? We look for changed lives. When we see people changing, healing, growing, turning God-ward, we are seeing good fruit. When we bring justice or peace or reconciliation to a community, we are seeing good fruit. When we experience greater joy and more love in our lives, we are seeing good fruit.
Where in your life do you feel the most fruitful? What branches seem barren, producing little?
What fruit do you feel is still forming in your life? Does it have the water, sun and nutrients it needs? How might you foster greater growth?
What fruit do you see, and would like to see in your community of faith? How might you help cultivate greater fruitfulness, more changed lives?
Fruit forms well when it is attached to the plant that nourishes it. Our fruitfulness in life, and as followers of Christ, flourishes as we allow God’s Spirit to flow through us, to form and ripen us and our ideas, to bring us to the fullness of who we are intended to be. Then we bring delight to others, just like a beautiful peach or a perfect strawberry.
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(You can listen to this reflection here.)
We don’t much use the word “abide” in the sense in which it is used in the Bible. I cannot think of a usage outside of church literature in which it appears. Which is a pity – it’s a good word! Much richer than its nearest contemporary equivalent, “hanging out with.”
I did no etymological research, but a Google search reminded me that we do use the word – in the sense of something we comply with, or can barely tolerate (“I will abide by the ruling,” “I can’t abide that color”). That's nothing like what it means in this week’s gospel passage. Abide means to dwell with over time. There must be a connection between “abide” and “bide,” as in, to bide one’s time. Abiding suggests resting with deeply, not rushing away. Oh! Maybe that’s why we don’t use it these days – we rush so much, and do so little “resting with deeply,” “ staying quietly with.”
Jesus used the term that our forebears translated as “abide” quite a bit, especially in these farewell remarks captured in John’s Gospel. He uses it as a verb and as an imperative:
“Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. I am the vine, you are the branches.”
This image conveys a powerful sense of connectedness. To abide as a fruit abides in the vine suggests that it both comes from and is connected to the vine, so connected it would take some force to part one from the other. This does not undermine distinction and independence, but emphasizes greater fruitfulness:
“Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing.”
How do we abide with Jesus and let him abide in us? We hang out with him in prayer and conversation and praise and worship. We recover our awareness of how we are connected to him, despite the efforts of the world and its messages, and the pressures of our lives to shake us loose. It is easy to feel disconnected from God except in those times when we consciously return. How would it be to carry that felt connection around with us daily?
That can happen as we live into the second part – letting Jesus abide in us. We are promised that Jesus lives in us through baptism, a connection that is renewed at eucharist, through the Word, through prayer and service. Thus, one way we abide with him and he in us is to make more space for him. Don’t toss him in a back room, just stopping by to visit when you’re feeling sad or stressed. Give him a seat at the table, when you’re doing dishes, paying bills, going to sleep. Instead of relegating him to a few moments here and there, make some time to nurture your connection.
Some monastics have practiced a form of constant prayer called “hesychasm,” the prayer of the heart, which trains one to pray with each breath, in and out, so that practitioners pray without ceasing. Whether we adopt that practice, or set alerts on our phones, or set aside times and places to rest deeply with Jesus, he promises us a more fruitful life through that connection.
And we can be sure HE is abiding with us. Even when we’re not paying attention.
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(You can listen to this reflection here.)
I live in a beautiful house, with a large deck overlooking a river. Surrounding the deck are bushes, which seem not to have been pruned in ages. Trying to gain an unimpeded view of the water, I started to cut some straggly branches, and soon discovered that’s all there are. All the growth is on the outside edges because no one has pruned these bushes.
Pruning is a painful process. No one wants to cut into living things, or beautiful ones, though a gardener or farmer - or surgeon - will do so in order to allow a plant to become as healthy and fruitful as possible. Jesus said that even God is in the pruning business:
“I am the true vine, and my Father is the vine-grower. He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit.”
Jesus talks both about the cutting away of non-fruitful branches, and the cutting back of fruitful ones. Nothing seems to be exempt from God's pruning shears.
We prune plants to conserve their resources so that the fruitful parts receive maximum nutrients. The same is true in our lives. Not every aspect of our lives bears good fruit, and when we have too many branches we dissipate the focus and energy available to each one. We must undertake pruning processes, or allow God to work them within us.
Are there aspects to your life or work or relationships that no longer feel fruitful? Patterns of thinking or behaving or relating that are not life-giving? Make a list today of “branches” you might be willing to cut away, leave behind entirely. As you read through that list, where do you feel the greatest sense of loss or failure? Where the most relief? Pray through it with Jesus and/or discuss it with a spiritual adviser or friend. Then act on what you've discerned.
What areas of your life, work or relationships feel fruitful? How might you prune or refine your involvement in them to allow for even more growth?
There’s an old adage that “the unexamined life is not worth living.” (To which one wag responded, “The examined life is no picnic either!”) I suggest the same is true of an “unpruned life.” It is like an overgrown garden – hard to move around in, with a lack of differentiation and clarity, healthy growth often impeded by weeds and undergrowth.
Undergrowth! There’s a great term. That which is overgrown becomes undergrowth. If we want to see growth in our lives, not to mention our ministries, bring on the pruning.
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(You can listen to this reflection here.)
If John’s Gospel is a reliable historical record (a question over which scholars have spilled much ink through the centuries…), the Last Supper must have lasted a Long Time. As John tells it, after the drama and rituals of washing feet, breaking bread and sharing wine, Jesus delivers himself of many Last Words. This discourse, which fills chapters 14-18 of the Fourth Gospel, is dense, elliptical, sometimes repetitive - and full of nuggets of teaching that theologians would later mine in developing core church doctrines like the Trinity, Incarnation, the Holy Spirit, and Heaven.
This account is not as a transcript. At best, it is a compilation of memories and themes, filtered through several witnesses some 40-50 years after the events being described, and reflecting movements and controversies in the early church. Yet I choose to believe Jesus said much of what is set down here, if not in these exact words, sequence, or occasion. At some point Jesus spoke to his followers about vines and branches and abiding in God. And these words still resonate for us:
“I am the true vine, and my Father is the vine-grower. He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit.”
Jesus is about to take his leave of these beloved and frustrating disciples. He has said he is going to a place they cannot follow, but to which he is the way. He talks about pruning and fruitfulness, as he is about to become for us the branch cut away, despite the manifold fruit he had borne in just three years, reflected in thousands of lives renewed, loves restored, sins forgiven and infirmities healed.
But Jesus is not referring to himself in this moment. He is the true vine, he says, and God will remove every branch in him that bears no fruit. That means the branches to which Jesus has given life. That means his apostles. And that means us.
This week’s Gospel passage is not long, but it is thick with metaphor and meaning. Using the image of a vine and its branches, Jesus talks about how we are honed, and nurtured, and how to stay fruitful as servants and friends of God. Exploring this passage offers a good opportunity for some spiritual inventory. So today let’s start by thinking about ourselves as branches connected to that True Vine.
How connected do we feel? How much in the way of nutrients is making its way to us?
How fruitful do we feel we are?
Jesus needed to be sure his closest followers understood some things while he was still with them in flesh, before the harrowing ordeals ahead. Hence the Long Goodbye. But for us, these words are a Big Hello, for our fruitfulness is ever before us. Let's receive them as such and leap into the exploration ahead.
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(You can listen to this reflection here.)
We are doing the Alpha course at my church. Alpha is a 10-week introduction to Christian faith and practice, meeting weekly over dinner with a talk and discussion. The first week looks at “Who is Jesus?” The second we jump right into “Why Did Jesus Die?” There are many answers to such a question, depending on which of the four canonical gospels you’re reading and where you sit on the theological spectrum.
There are also no answers to so deep and unsettling a mystery. Did humans operating out of sin and evil kill Jesus? Did God have his own son killed? Was Jesus’ death due to politics, paranoia, personal feuds? Could it have been prevented? Was it simply the inevitable consequence of human choice, or a divine plan?
Perhaps a combination of all of these. Jesus predicted his arrest, death and resurrection often enough that it seems to have been a plan he was enacting. Yet that plan required human beings to make choices that could have gone in other ways. And any notion that Jesus was a passive victim of either human or divine operation is contested by these words attributed to Jesus as he talks about being the Good Shepherd who lays down his life for his sheep:
For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life in order to take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it up again. I have received this command from my Father.”
Laying things down, things that we call life, is a constant effort in the life of a Christ-follower. Jesus demonstrated a self-giving love that offered everything, including his life. Where are we called to sacrifice our comfort or convenience or resources so someone else might have more room to live?
I was in a conversation yesterday about racial reconciliation, and someone said it’s not enough for those of us born into privilege to say we’re sorry for the historic and current injustice that limits access to the wealth and security we enjoy; we may actually need to get up and out of the chair, to make space for someone who hasn’t had our advantages. That’s a way of laying down of our lives at a high level. There are also smaller scale choices we can make – to lay down our insistence on being right, or knowing better, or having more. What comes to mind for you?
It is our privilege to make a choice to yield our privilege. Like Jesus, we have power to lay down our lives and to take them up again. In fact, when we lay them down, we truly find a richer life to take up. As we lay down those things that we cling to so tightly, we make room for God’s life to expand in us. As we give our life away, we find ourselves in that abundant life Jesus promised.
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