John 15:9-17
The first thing I thought of when I read the Gospel for this week is weddings. I have preached on this passage during several weddings I have officiated. So I was excited to preach on it because I have a positive association with it. I love officiating weddings. I have probably officiated 25 or so weddings and I can honestly say I have loved every single one. I love the premarital counseling and getting to know the couple, hearing their story and guiding them in their future planning. I love the marriage ceremony’s liturgy which is almost identical to the Prayer Book wedding liturgy: the powerful language, ancient metaphors, poetic words and beautiful symbols. And I love being a part of that happy moment with the couple. I get to look into their tear-filled eyes, hear their careful breathing as they say their vows and see the supportive looks of all of their friends and family.
This may seem obvious, of course I like weddings, they are nice happy occasions, but the truth is almost every pastor I know would much rather do a funeral than a wedding. Many of my clergy colleagues can’t stand doing weddings. And I understand some of their frustrations, it is annoying when a couple bosses you around or makes unreasonable demands or seems to really only care about a lovely picture rather than the lifelong promises they are making. There have been moments when I wanted to say “we actually believe this stuff we are saying” as a couple seemed disinterested or apathetic about the religious language and scriptures. There are times when you feel undervalued, used or irritated. That can weigh on a person after many years. But I think more than that, weddings are hard when you do really love the couple. You hear their stories, you enjoy being a part of their journey, they seem committed to the church and then as the last of the artificial rose petals are swept away you realize, they are never coming back. You and the faith community you want so much for them to experience will never see them again. This is not always the case, but unfortunately many times it is and it can be heartbreaking as their pastor.
It’s also heart breaking when the marriage ends in divorce. You care about the couple, you are rooting for them and your heart breaks to see their tears of joy turned to tears of pain. After the tuxedos are returned and the cake is consumed, the truth of marriage is revealed … love is hard. It is hard to constantly give of yourself, open your heart and always make compromises. And sometimes for many different reasons it just doesn’t work.
It is also hard to open your heart as a pastor to people over and over again and experience rejection and disappointment. The frustration of unmet goals, the constant need to compromise with so many different people, always giving of yourself and opening your heart. . . it is hard. Love in all of it’s forms in all different relationships is hard.
All of us have experienced the difficulty of love at some point. Whether as a spouse, parent, sibling, friend, pet lover or as a member of a church. Living in relationship with others brings challenges. We get our feelings hurt, we hurt the feelings of others, we experience frustration and disappointment, boredom and unmet needs and sometimes we just want to walk away. Sometimes as pastors, friends, brothers, sisters, church members, it’s just too hard to keep on putting your heart out there.
This realization about the challenges of love is why this Gospel reading is actually kind of terrifying. It’s all about love. Jesus is speaking to his disciples. He is explaining that he comes from God, he is preparing to give his life for the world, to take upon himself all of the pain and suffering of the world and redeem it. And he tells his followers what they need to do to abide in him, to have their joy complete and to live in God. He says “this is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.”
On the one hand it’s very simple in an “all you need is love” kind of way. Ditch the complicated lists of dos and don'ts and just love. But on the other hand it’s completely crazy. All we need to do is love one another as Christ loves us. Love others as the Savior of the world, Son of God, the one who (at the time he said this) is about to give his life on the cross, the one who can bring healing and hope, the one who is eternal … love others as he loves us. That’s all.
It’s an incredible challenge, “love one another as I have loved you.” Even without the “as I have loved you” it’s still difficult. Love is effort, sacrifice, forgiveness and risk. This seems like a radical command. I think I might prefer something more along the lines of “thou shall not murder” rather than a command to love others the way Jesus does. Refraining from murder seems much more doable than laying down one’s life for one’s friends. And yet this is our command, to love as Jesus loves.
“Command” is such a powerful word. In the Church we put a lot of weight on the word “commandment.” In the midst of all of the confusing passages of the Bible, the poems and stories that are not always easy to understand, the commandments seem direct, clear and easy to grasp. But, in the first 17 verses of this chapter that we read from today the word “abide” actually appears eleven times and “bear fruit” appears seven times. While the word commandment is only used three times. Perhaps then this passage is less about a list of rules to follow, a specific criteria for doing right- and more about a state of being. Maybe the “command” part is not something to cause anxiety or worry, but rather a way of helping us understand this bigger message about abiding and bearing fruit.
Sometimes we are so anxious to do things right, craving direction, wanting to know what to do, that we focus a little too much on words like “commandments” and “rules.” Sometimes we get too hung up on what to do. Sometimes we just focus on the difficult, maybe even impossible commandments and then are left feeling like we aren’t good enough … frustrated that we can’t get it right.
I often feel this way about parenting. It seems there is always a list of things parents should and should not do. Always an “expert” with a rule book for parenting. Always judging glares from observers. Always things we feel we should be doing but aren’t or shouldn’t be doing but are. As I watched my one year old lick butter off of a plate the other day, I definitely had the feeling I was doing something I should not. Children can really push the boundaries of our expectations about appropriate behavior. Perhaps you might remember about a year ago, right here in this very worship space, my then 2 year old decided to make a run for it down the aisle during worship. My attempt to stop him was met with a complete screaming melt down, limp legs tantrum. Which meant I had to pick him up while he was crying and try my best not to smash the newborn I was also holding in my arms. It was not a great moment. It was public, it was loud, it felt awful. Definitely one of those times when I felt I was doing everything I “shouldn't” in parenting.
Parenting is hard. One moment I’m worried my children are spoiled and undisciplined and then next I feel guilty for being too hard on them and can’t believe how well-behaved they are. And all along the way I feel like I do everything wrong. One of the great things about being a stay at home mom is that I get to spend a lot of time with other parents and learn that they all feel that way too. Parenting is hard… love is hard.
I was especially feeling this way on Wednesday morning. Jeremiah was away at clergy conference. I had just spent 24 hours with just me and the kids. All went well until bed time when my one year old Isaiah decided to throw all of my shoes into a pile and then the moment his diaper was off he ran over and peed all over them. There was little time for cleaning them as my three year old was attempting to smash his brother with an ottoman. Eventually they both peacefully fell asleep with their teeth brushed, pajamas on and only a minimal amount of food on their faces. I was feeling accomplished until the wake ups began. Isaiah woke up at 9, 10, 11, 1, 4, 5 and then was up for the day at 6. Oscar woke up at 3 just to tell me he was sad.
So at 7am I was lying there in bed, Isaiah cracking up as he beat my eye with a pacifier and then my 3 year old climbed into the bed. His hair was all messy and his cheeks were soft as he wrapped his body around mine. His little breath was on my neck as he whispered into my ear, “Mommy, I love you more than anything in the world.” And then he snuggled on one side and Isaiah snuggled on the other side and for a few minutes or so it was heaven. And parenting didn’t feel hard at all. Love did not feel like a challenge. We just laid there, not doing anything wrong, not doing anything right, just giving and receiving love.
Just before Jesus gives his commandment to love as he loves he says “I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit …” Maybe this passage is more about abiding rather than commanding. More about just being, rather than doing things right or wrong. Jesus says that God is the vine-grower, he is the vine and his followers are the branches. The branches then bear fruit. God loves Jesus, Jesus loves us, we abide in his love.
What if love is less about getting it right, less about doing the right things and more about just being a branch? Living in the love of God and allowing that love to bear fruit? Allowing the love of God to nourish and flow through us? What if parenting is less about doing or saying the right things and more about just living in love? What if living in relationship with others is less about the give and take and more about just living in the love of God, even when our heart is broken, even when we are disappointed?
On these beautiful spring days we have been having it’s easy to think about branches. We are surrounded by flowering branches and branches with fresh green leaves swaying in the wind and soaking in the sun. “I am the vine, you are the branches.” Being a branch … that doesn’t seem so hard.
The first thing I thought of when I read the Gospel for this week is weddings. I have preached on this passage during several weddings I have officiated. So I was excited to preach on it because I have a positive association with it. I love officiating weddings. I have probably officiated 25 or so weddings and I can honestly say I have loved every single one. I love the premarital counseling and getting to know the couple, hearing their story and guiding them in their future planning. I love the marriage ceremony’s liturgy which is almost identical to the Prayer Book wedding liturgy: the powerful language, ancient metaphors, poetic words and beautiful symbols. And I love being a part of that happy moment with the couple. I get to look into their tear-filled eyes, hear their careful breathing as they say their vows and see the supportive looks of all of their friends and family.
This may seem obvious, of course I like weddings, they are nice happy occasions, but the truth is almost every pastor I know would much rather do a funeral than a wedding. Many of my clergy colleagues can’t stand doing weddings. And I understand some of their frustrations, it is annoying when a couple bosses you around or makes unreasonable demands or seems to really only care about a lovely picture rather than the lifelong promises they are making. There have been moments when I wanted to say “we actually believe this stuff we are saying” as a couple seemed disinterested or apathetic about the religious language and scriptures. There are times when you feel undervalued, used or irritated. That can weigh on a person after many years. But I think more than that, weddings are hard when you do really love the couple. You hear their stories, you enjoy being a part of their journey, they seem committed to the church and then as the last of the artificial rose petals are swept away you realize, they are never coming back. You and the faith community you want so much for them to experience will never see them again. This is not always the case, but unfortunately many times it is and it can be heartbreaking as their pastor.
It’s also heart breaking when the marriage ends in divorce. You care about the couple, you are rooting for them and your heart breaks to see their tears of joy turned to tears of pain. After the tuxedos are returned and the cake is consumed, the truth of marriage is revealed … love is hard. It is hard to constantly give of yourself, open your heart and always make compromises. And sometimes for many different reasons it just doesn’t work.
It is also hard to open your heart as a pastor to people over and over again and experience rejection and disappointment. The frustration of unmet goals, the constant need to compromise with so many different people, always giving of yourself and opening your heart. . . it is hard. Love in all of it’s forms in all different relationships is hard.
All of us have experienced the difficulty of love at some point. Whether as a spouse, parent, sibling, friend, pet lover or as a member of a church. Living in relationship with others brings challenges. We get our feelings hurt, we hurt the feelings of others, we experience frustration and disappointment, boredom and unmet needs and sometimes we just want to walk away. Sometimes as pastors, friends, brothers, sisters, church members, it’s just too hard to keep on putting your heart out there.
This realization about the challenges of love is why this Gospel reading is actually kind of terrifying. It’s all about love. Jesus is speaking to his disciples. He is explaining that he comes from God, he is preparing to give his life for the world, to take upon himself all of the pain and suffering of the world and redeem it. And he tells his followers what they need to do to abide in him, to have their joy complete and to live in God. He says “this is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.”
On the one hand it’s very simple in an “all you need is love” kind of way. Ditch the complicated lists of dos and don'ts and just love. But on the other hand it’s completely crazy. All we need to do is love one another as Christ loves us. Love others as the Savior of the world, Son of God, the one who (at the time he said this) is about to give his life on the cross, the one who can bring healing and hope, the one who is eternal … love others as he loves us. That’s all.
It’s an incredible challenge, “love one another as I have loved you.” Even without the “as I have loved you” it’s still difficult. Love is effort, sacrifice, forgiveness and risk. This seems like a radical command. I think I might prefer something more along the lines of “thou shall not murder” rather than a command to love others the way Jesus does. Refraining from murder seems much more doable than laying down one’s life for one’s friends. And yet this is our command, to love as Jesus loves.
“Command” is such a powerful word. In the Church we put a lot of weight on the word “commandment.” In the midst of all of the confusing passages of the Bible, the poems and stories that are not always easy to understand, the commandments seem direct, clear and easy to grasp. But, in the first 17 verses of this chapter that we read from today the word “abide” actually appears eleven times and “bear fruit” appears seven times. While the word commandment is only used three times. Perhaps then this passage is less about a list of rules to follow, a specific criteria for doing right- and more about a state of being. Maybe the “command” part is not something to cause anxiety or worry, but rather a way of helping us understand this bigger message about abiding and bearing fruit.
Sometimes we are so anxious to do things right, craving direction, wanting to know what to do, that we focus a little too much on words like “commandments” and “rules.” Sometimes we get too hung up on what to do. Sometimes we just focus on the difficult, maybe even impossible commandments and then are left feeling like we aren’t good enough … frustrated that we can’t get it right.
I often feel this way about parenting. It seems there is always a list of things parents should and should not do. Always an “expert” with a rule book for parenting. Always judging glares from observers. Always things we feel we should be doing but aren’t or shouldn’t be doing but are. As I watched my one year old lick butter off of a plate the other day, I definitely had the feeling I was doing something I should not. Children can really push the boundaries of our expectations about appropriate behavior. Perhaps you might remember about a year ago, right here in this very worship space, my then 2 year old decided to make a run for it down the aisle during worship. My attempt to stop him was met with a complete screaming melt down, limp legs tantrum. Which meant I had to pick him up while he was crying and try my best not to smash the newborn I was also holding in my arms. It was not a great moment. It was public, it was loud, it felt awful. Definitely one of those times when I felt I was doing everything I “shouldn't” in parenting.
Parenting is hard. One moment I’m worried my children are spoiled and undisciplined and then next I feel guilty for being too hard on them and can’t believe how well-behaved they are. And all along the way I feel like I do everything wrong. One of the great things about being a stay at home mom is that I get to spend a lot of time with other parents and learn that they all feel that way too. Parenting is hard… love is hard.
I was especially feeling this way on Wednesday morning. Jeremiah was away at clergy conference. I had just spent 24 hours with just me and the kids. All went well until bed time when my one year old Isaiah decided to throw all of my shoes into a pile and then the moment his diaper was off he ran over and peed all over them. There was little time for cleaning them as my three year old was attempting to smash his brother with an ottoman. Eventually they both peacefully fell asleep with their teeth brushed, pajamas on and only a minimal amount of food on their faces. I was feeling accomplished until the wake ups began. Isaiah woke up at 9, 10, 11, 1, 4, 5 and then was up for the day at 6. Oscar woke up at 3 just to tell me he was sad.
So at 7am I was lying there in bed, Isaiah cracking up as he beat my eye with a pacifier and then my 3 year old climbed into the bed. His hair was all messy and his cheeks were soft as he wrapped his body around mine. His little breath was on my neck as he whispered into my ear, “Mommy, I love you more than anything in the world.” And then he snuggled on one side and Isaiah snuggled on the other side and for a few minutes or so it was heaven. And parenting didn’t feel hard at all. Love did not feel like a challenge. We just laid there, not doing anything wrong, not doing anything right, just giving and receiving love.
Just before Jesus gives his commandment to love as he loves he says “I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit …” Maybe this passage is more about abiding rather than commanding. More about just being, rather than doing things right or wrong. Jesus says that God is the vine-grower, he is the vine and his followers are the branches. The branches then bear fruit. God loves Jesus, Jesus loves us, we abide in his love.
What if love is less about getting it right, less about doing the right things and more about just being a branch? Living in the love of God and allowing that love to bear fruit? Allowing the love of God to nourish and flow through us? What if parenting is less about doing or saying the right things and more about just living in love? What if living in relationship with others is less about the give and take and more about just living in the love of God, even when our heart is broken, even when we are disappointed?
On these beautiful spring days we have been having it’s easy to think about branches. We are surrounded by flowering branches and branches with fresh green leaves swaying in the wind and soaking in the sun. “I am the vine, you are the branches.” Being a branch … that doesn’t seem so hard.
No comments:
Post a Comment