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Easter 5, 05/03/2015
Sermon on John 15:1-8, by Zbicz Michael Allison
”I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinegrower. He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit. You have already been cleansed by the word that I have spoken to you. 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. 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 you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples". John 15:1-8 NRSV
“He can’t be our pastor. He walks too fast.”
Now, I’ve heard call committees and congregations give many of different reasons for not calling a particular pastor to serve in their congregation. The reason might be theology or politics or leadership style. Sometimes, it just becomes clear that a candidate’s gifts are not a great match for that congregation. Other times, the complaint is something more obnoxiously self-seeking. But I have never once heard of any American congregation not calling someone because the person walks too fast.
For one congregation in Lebanon, however, Kenneth Bailey says that this was exactly the reason given.[1] “He can’t be our pastor. He walks too fast.”
It seems ridiculous to rule out a religious leader because of the speed of his gait, but considering the very different cultural contexts, perhaps it isn’t surprising. In Lebanon, according to Bailey, walking slowly is a sign of dignity and status. Serious and important people walk slowly.
In the United States, the exact opposite is perhaps the case. It is a status symbol here to be overly busy with “important” work. Our tiniest children are trained by school bells which summon them from one class to another, and by a full slate of scheduled activities. Our work places have carefully coordinated calendars and our phones buzz with appointment reminders. With formation like that, I expect that most Americans walk too briskly for their standards. I know I do.
But I have a nagging feeling that there is also some universal wisdom to their complaint. Could the speed of our walking signal something about the state of our souls? Perhaps that Lebanese congregation was also wondering if this man would slow down enough to truly listen to them. Will he notice what is really important to tend to or will he be so harried that he’ll miss it? Will he treat worship like an item to be checked off the to-do list rather than as a time to delight in the presence of God? Will he tend to his own prayer life with the patient care necessary or will he get frustrated and give up when things get difficult? Does he know how to abide with us and with God or is his mind always somewhere else?
Perhaps that pastor was deliberate with everything but his walking. This, we do not know.
But Saint Augustine famously wrote in the first chapter of his Confessions “You have formed us for Yourself, and our hearts are restless till they find rest in You.”[2] And often enough, a perpetually hurried life goes hand-in-hand with a restless soul.
St. Benedict, in the Rule he wrote for the monastic communities he founded, had a similar concern, but about a different kind of restlessness. His concern wasn’t those who walked too fast, but those who never stayed still. For Benedict, these wandering moochers were the worst kind of monk. He wrote that “These [men] spend their whole lives tramping from province to province, staying as guests in different monasteries for three or four days at a time. Always on the move, with no stability, they indulge their own wills, succumb to the allurements of gluttony… of the miserable conduct of all such, it is better to be silent than to speak.”[3]
Benedict believes that these wanderers are led astray by the restlessness of their hearts and the rootlessness of their lives. They have not yet learned how to abide. And without learning how to abide in one place, in the stability of the life of prayer and work and community, their hearts will remain both restless and self-absorbed.
“Abide in me as I abide in you,” Jesus says. “Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me” (Jn. 15:4).
Abiding in Jesus is the antidote offered to restless hearts and harried lives and hurried footsteps that lead to nowhere in particular. No to-do-list, or self-help program will solve the problem, neither will running away from important responsibilities when they get difficult.
Abide in me, Jesus tells us. Or from our second lesson, “Abide in God… those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them” (1 John 4:16).
Abide is not a word we often use in modern speech, perhaps because we do so little of it, but it does show up in several different places in the scriptures.
Abiding is the slow and unhurried life lived with another. It is the patient cultivation of a relationship and the patient listening for the voice of God. Abiding is the careful contemplation of the Word. It is also standing with our brothers and sisters in Christ who are so different from us, and walking with them in good times and in bad. When we abide with others, we invite them into our lives—we let them see us, not only when we have our lives presentable, but also when our houses are messy and dinner is burned, and we look and feel like something the cat drug in. Abiding is praying for our brothers and sisters when we are apart, and sharing with them the Eucharistic feast, even when we’re on vacation hundreds of miles away. Abiding is sticking with the life of faith, even in those spiritual winters when we see no fruits at all from our labors.
Abiding, then, is not so much about doing things as it is about a way of being with God and with one another. It can be slow and tedious. When we’re so accustomed to living life in a hurry, it can seem like a waste of time to simply abide.
But Jesus promises that abiding in him does bear fruit. There will be time for doing things and for action, time for bearing fruit—but the yield of our efforts will come from Jesus, the vine in whom we abide. It might be nice to skip straight to harvesting those juicy apples—but there will be no apples without a healthy tree, a strong root system, and years of sun, rain and careful nurture. The branch alone cannot bear fruit.
There are no shortcuts here.
We all want lives which “bear fruit,” which are shaped by meaningful relationships, which leave a lasting and loving mark on the lives we encounter. We all want to see our efforts lead to something good. But we cannot rush it. We will not get there any faster by speed-walking to our next engagement or by wandering from place to place looking for some magic solution to avoid all those things that slow us down. Those harried efforts are more likely to stunt our crop yield than to help it. But abiding in Jesus does bear fruit. This patient cultivation of loving relationships with Christ and his church takes the long view, and it acknowledges the reality that we cannot do it on our own. Abiding changes us and shapes us and prepares us so that we can we can slow down enough to nurture the things that really matter.
“If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples” (Jn. 15:7-8).
In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit
[1] Kenneth Bailey, Poet and Peasant (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1983), 181–82.
[2] Augustine of Hippo. The Confessions. Book 1.1. http://www.newadvent.org/fathers/110101.htm. Accessed 4/27/15.
[3] St. Benedict. The Rule of St. Benedict. Chapter 1. http://www.osb.org/rb/text/rbejms1.html. Accessed 4/27/15.