The Fifth Sunday of Easter - 2006

Seminarian Cathy Dempesy preached this sermon on the Fifth Sunday of Easter, May 14, 2006.

I need Thy presence every passing hour.
What but Thy grace can foil the tempter’s power?
Who, like Thyself, my guide and stay can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me.

I made an amazing discovery the other day: I have become my mother.

This is not news to many of you. I am sure you have had similar experiences of becoming your mother, father, older sibling etc. I know I have. But for right now, I am my mother.

You see, when I was a teenager my mother went to graduate school. Every Saturday she sat in the living room, on the couch, with the dogs at her feet. Classical music playing on the Hi Fi (as it was known in those days). Books surrounding her as she read, highlighted, wrote and re-wrote. Periodically one of us would wander in with an onlymomcananswer question and she would look up, gazing over the top of her glasses, setting us straight. The other day I found myself in the easy chair, classical music playing on the computer, a dog at my feet, books and papers and the computer surrounding me. As the questioner approached I looked up, gazing over the top of my glasses and it was done: I was my mother. It makes sense to become my mother—after all she is my mother. I often find myself becoming my father, my sister, my grandmother. I act like them because I learned from them. They have guided me. I do things a certain way at the altar, in the pulpit and in the chancel because Polly does them that way. Or Fr. Dan or Fr. Bill. Because I learn from them. They guide me.

Th Ethiopian Eunuch, in today’s lesson, says to Philip, regarding his understanding of scripture: “How can I, unless someone guides me?”

Exactly. We learn by watching others, listening to others, working with others. Our families, friends, mentors—they all GUIDE US. TEACH US. CORRECT US. HELP US. Because they love us. Because they abide in us and we in them.

Abide.

It’s a big word in today’s readings. Abide:

                                                To wait for

                                                To endure without yielding

                                                To bear patiently

                                                To continue to be sure

Jesus says: Abide in me as I abide in you. In other words bear me patiently as I bear you patiently.

In today’s Epistle, John says: “Beloved since God loved us so much we ought to love one another…if we love one another God lives in us and his love is perfected in us.” (1 John 4:11, 13)

This is how it works:

God loves us so much God became incarnate in the person of Jesus, who walked among us, joined us in fellowship. Through that fellowship we get to know the Father’s love—we give it a place to take root and grow. God’s love abides in us when we love one another.

Abiding must have love as its foundation, that is clear. Abiding means to withstand, to continue to be sure and firm: to endure.

Back to mothers for a moment. Think of how much mother’s endure. First childbirth. Then colic. Then teething. Then the terrible two’s. Then the dreaded teen age years: adolescence. Then the leaving home. Then the coming back home and not leaving fast enough…and on and on. Abiding can be hard. You mothers out there—how often have you bit your tongue? Enduring in silence, offering a shoulder to cry on without saying : “I told you so.” Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles, friends do this enduring , this abiding because they love us and want us to grow, to flourish, to be fabulous.

So does God.

Abiding takes endurance. Now it is easy to see how much God needs to endure from us. We deny God. We forget God. We ignore God. But God hangs in there. Now this abiding thing is a two way street. God endures us but we must endure God. C’mon, admit it, there are times when we really wonder what God is doing, don’t we? Disaster, famine, war. A child dying. Tragic loss of love. Where is God in that?

Walter Wink addressed this in an article he wrote some 12 years ago for the Christian Century magazine, entitled: Abiding—Even Under the Knife. Using today’s Gospel as his text he takes the reader through years of evolving interpretation of this story, from the somewhat narcissistic it’s all about me interpretation of his youth to a more universal interpretation of his older years. In this latter interpretation Wink confronts the issue of pruning. You know the part of the text which says if you don’t bear fruit you get pruned. No doubt the literalists can have a field day with that but I am not a literalist and I read this Gospel for what it is—an allegorical story utilizing a metaphor. God is not really the vine-grower, Jesus is not the vine  etc. But it does offer a good visual doesn’t it? Let’s look at pruning the same way.

Pruning is, in effect, clipping off dead or dying wood to promote new vibrant growth. We do it to our plants. Our hair. We prune growing things so the growth will be fuller, richer: more lush.

As Wink reminds us: we are growing things as well. As Christians we strive to f=grow more fully into the Body of Christ. Sometimes for some of us (dare I say, most of us) that growth becomes stunted, stagnant and stale. And then before we know it—before we know what is happening—here comes God, clippers in hand. Objectively (that is when it isn’t me God is aiming at) we know this is a good thing. It is good for the prune. Healthy. You know, like lima beans and castor oil. Who knew that good could feel so bad. Growth experiences are like that.

As Wink says, “How has the intrepid vine-dresser pruned you lately?” Are you grateful for it? If you are it probably happened awhile ago. Because when the pruning is fresh in our minds we rarely feel gratitude. Fear, anger, bitterness. Pain, yes, Gratitude? Not so much.

Take a moment to think of those times you’ve been pruned. The times when it hurt a lot and you were scared. But somehow you held on, somehow you endured. You stayed the course. Because you weren’t alone. You had company. Just as the Father loved me, so I have loved you. Abide in my love.

The turn around time—the pain evolving into gratitude—varies. The Israelites experienced a lot of bitterness and felt a lot of fear before they finally joined in Miriam’s dance of freedom. The greater the growth, the deeper the pain, the longer the turn around tine. But the more of these experiences we have the more patient  we become. The more we are able to endure. Because that is what abiding is all about. Continue to be sure. God’s love grows within us as we love one another as Jesus loved us. That’s how it works.

AMEN.