When I was growing up my
father planted two peach trees on what we good folk of Akron call “the devil
strip.” It is that narrow swath of land
between the street and the sidewalk.
Well, a year or two passed and without any prompting, those two trees
began to produce peaches. A lot of
peaches. Manifold, delicious
peaches. More peaches than our family
could eat. Every morning in the summer I
awoke to the sound of a garbage truck stopping in front of our house. The men on it discovered our peaches during
their weekly pick-up and now drove by every day to help themselves to
breakfast. As I recall, the summer of
peaches lasted only two years. The third
summer the trees bore nothing and within a year or two died and had to be cut
down. We didn’t know about pruning or
nutrients or identifying blight. We just
let them grow on their own and that is how they thrived and that is how they died
– on their own.
This morning we hear
Jesus present yet another metaphor to describe our relationship with him. Last week we heard him say, “I am the Good
Shepherd.” This week he says, “I am the
vine and you are the branches.” As with
last week’s image, which we understand even though we have never met a
shepherd, so too this week’s image speaks clearly and powerfully even though most
of us have never worked in a vineyard.
I suspect the act of
pruning is grounded both in judgment and in nurturing. If a branch is broken or not bearing fruit,
it must come off. Or, if it is growing
in a way which over time will be harmful to the whole, it must be pruned. This is the judgment. But cutting back can also be a healthy,
revitalizing activity, giving the plant its best possibility to thrive and
produce. Jesus says he does both. He calls us to account when and where we are
in the wrong. He nurtures and nourishes
us so we may flourish.
When reading a passage
of the bible, I always pay attention to verbs set in the imperative, that
instruct us to do something. Today’s
gospel reading has two imperatives: abide
and ask. “Abide
in me as I abide in you.” “If you abide
in me… ask for whatever you wish, and
it will be done for you.” Abide and ask.
The verb John uses
translated as abide carries the sense
of remaining. Jesus talks about the
Father abiding with the Son (14:23) and the Holy Spirit abiding with them
(14:17). When Jesus tells his followers
“In my Father’s house there are many mansions”, the word used for mansions comes from the root word abide.
A literal translation might be, “In my Father’s house there are many
places to abide.” To abide with Jesus is
to be in a place or a state where one is deeply at home. We can only go out into the world and be fruitful
if we have a place where we can abide and be “at home.”
Home does not
necessarily mean the physical space where you live, although no doubt this is a
part of it. Your abiding place includes
a place of solitude where prayer and reflection are possible. It includes a place to worship and people to
worship with. It includes family and
close friends. It is also a soothing place
or a time – perhaps sitting on your deck drinking coffee while watching the sunrise.
Whatever elements make
up your abiding place, take even one away and you will soon begin to feel out
of sorts. You have been working on the
road and haven’t had time to be with your family. You have been sick and can’t get to
church. You have had to hit the ground
running each morning and can’t relax and drink your coffee. Whatever it is, take it away and you will
begin to feel it. Your fruitfulness will
diminish (even if you are producing at a voluminous level).
Ask
is the second imperative. I have an odd
reaction whenever I hear Jesus say, “Ask and it will be given to you.” I am confident if I ask Jesus to make my
lotto ticket a winner I am soon going to be holding a worthless piece of paper
in my hands. I can ask God to take away a
friend’s life-threatening illness, but it doesn’t always happen. I don’t think Jesus is a genie in a lamp which,
if rubbed, will be bound to grant three wishes.
So what does Jesus mean when he directs us to ask?
The Greek word used here
carries with it the sense of resolve
or require. It is not something flippant, extravagant, or
trivial, but rather something necessary.
And taken in the context of the command to abide, it seems to say,
“Whatever you need to abide in me, ask, and I will give it to you.” So here is a question you may not be able to
answer right away, but may want to ponder: What do you need to be able to abide
in Jesus?
I always thought if I
was shipwrecked on a deserted island, either alone or with a group of people, or
if I was imprisoned, or if I was a hostage, the one thing I would want to carry
me through would be a Book of Common
Prayer. The ability to keep my
daily, weekly, and yearly life grounded in prayer would be a matter of life or
death, of hope or despair, of purpose or despondency, of abiding or being truly
lost.
The Maharshi noted “that which comes and goes, rises and sets, is born
and dies is the ego. That which always
abides, never changes, and is devoid of qualities is the Self.” What do you need to sustain the Self, not
your passing fancies, but the
essence of who you are? Ask for this and
you will receive it.
I love this time of
year. Even with the pollen, there is
something magical about watching trees and plants begin to bud. Through a system of roots, trunks and limbs,
they gather water and nutrients and deliver them to the branches. The branches, exposed to the sun and its
warmth, break open with new life. Every
day I look out my office window and notice more fullness of green not there the
day before. The tree and plants are
doing what each of us hopes will be true in our lives. They are coming alive. They are bearing fruit. They are flourishing. And they do so not because they set their
mind to it, but because they are abiding in a good place.
I think back to those
two fruit trees in front of my childhood house.
As I said, they lived and thrived on their own, but quickly ran their
course and were gone. “I am the vine and
you are the branches.” We are more like
those peach trees than the mighty oak that endures year after year, through the
worst of what the weather may throw at it.
We need care, correction, nurture if we are going to survive and bear
fruit. In short, we need a place to
abide.
