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Sermon
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A TEASING FIGURE OF SPEECH On a flight years ago from Los Angeles to Boston, I chipped the man alongside, who was into his third pre-dinner drink. "You look like you've had a heavy day." He said, "I've just swung a deal with a well-heeled Greek in L.A., and I'm not feeling too great about it." He was some kind of broker; his work was getting people to invest in projects. I invited him to say more. "I'm coming to think I'm a proper . . . ," he said. "I've conned too many into parting with their dough when I was pretty sure they were on a loser. But I'm caught in this rat race. I've a wife and kids to feed. I know it's no good for me. Sometimes I think if an airplane went down with me in it, the one upstairs might be doing a favour to some people!" The story was one of never-ending compromise with his better self. Exploiting the gullible, and despite making money, feeling more and more a failure as a human being. I sensed he was close to defeat, as that last comment indicated. It was a four-hour flight. We talked a lot about how the germ of goodness in a person can break free for something worthy and satisfying. At the time, it never occurred to me that the allegory of the vine had much to do with him. But I see it now – very clearly. Three things fairly leap out at me. I
First, it’s a statement about human possibilities. For Jesus to say "I am the vine and you are the branches" is to declare that human beings have within them the possibility of becoming like him. This is a quite extraordinary message: one I suggest many have yet to grasp fully. Jesus is for them so totally other than human that such a notion seems crazy. Never before or since has there been anyone remotely like him; he is in a genus all apart. Therefore, any idea that we could be like him sounds preposterous. So there’s not much point trying! This was lit up for me some years ago, when I ran some bible studies on the theme "Who is Jesus?" The second was called "Jesus the Man". I had two points: Jesus as 'archetype' (first off) of the free person, and 'archetype' of the responsible person. No need to repeat all that now; just a quick explanation so we can get to the point of the story. I said that although Jesus was deeply imbued with the traditions of his people, he was nonetheless profoundly inner-directed. He wasn't pushed this way and that by forces around him. My other point was that this inner-directedness (or inner freedom) was not focussed on selfish interests. On the contrary, he was a profoundly responsible person – who saw his life as given, and himself as accountable to the Giver. Well, what's the point in all this? In the coffee break a woman asked if we could talk privately. She began by putting herself down, and then said, "How I wish I could be that sort of person! You made Jesus sound more human than anything I've heard – and yet that life seems so unattainable." There was more to her story; some aspects of her private life she wasn't very proud of, to say the least. In fact, I saw her several times, which let her get some things off her chest. When I felt she was ready to hear it, I said, "You know, that being . . . that life of which we spoke is not unattainable. The message of our faith is that God believes so much in humanity that he joins us in the person of Jesus – to show forth these possibilities latent in everybody." Although she had been a churchgoer for years, it was as though she had never heard that. She had heard only about sin and guilt and damnation and hell, and never about possibilities. That’s often the case when you talk with men or women still untouched by this first implication in the vine allegory: that human beings have within them the possibility of becoming increasingly like Jesus! II
Second, this is a statement about God. For Jesus to say, "My father is the gardener", is to declare that God not only puts the possibility within us – but that for those who long for its realization, God 'feeds' it and 'cares' for it and 'waters' it as you lovingly tend your favourite plants! Also does a spot of pruning too! I want to illustrate this notion of God nurturing as a gardener by telling you of a rich lesson I learned. It was close to fifty years ago; I learned it from an elderly lady in my first church. We'll call her 'Mrs MacDougall'. You might guess that she was a saintly old Scot, who knew her bible and was quite a theologian in her own right. Mrs Mac was one of a big number of older faithfuls for whom Sunday worship was getting harder and riskier in winter, making it important for me to see them at home. On this particular day, the rain was fairly bucketing down. Just getting from the car to her door left me like a drowned rat, and I dripped all over the carpet. The door had been unlocked, so Mrs Mac hadn’t needed to get up. She was sitting by a window, poised about six inches from a writing pad, and hard at work on a letter. I say hard at work because her sight was poor, and her old hands so knotted that it seemed a miracle she could hold anything. She was deaf too, so I sat close to her rather than shouting. She would put her hand on mine, like she was my teacher, and call me 'young man'. I sat down by her and said something lame, like "It's a miserable one today, Mrs Mac, isn't it." "Not at all, young man," she said. "When I was a wee girl I liked nothing better than to take off my boots and go walking in the rain. Falling rain is a kind of sacrament." I asked what she meant. "You tell us," she said, "that sacraments are signs of God's grace. When the rain pours down like this, I sit by my window. And I remind myself that this is how it is with the love and grace and cleansing and peace of God." She then went on to talk about prayer. "I often wonder," she said, "why people think of prayer as beating on the doors of heaven – shouting and yelling and pleading. That isn't how I pray at all. Praying to me is like standing in the rain: standing in the way of what's already there, and just letting it soak into you." There was something about this lady, in her late 80s, that I would call an aura: an aura of tranquillity, a quiet but immensely powerful spiritual force. It was like she had somehow tapped into the very ground of creation. I don't recall ever hearing her complain about getting old, about her eyes and ears, or about the arthritis. Almost to her death she kept up this ministry of letter writing. I remember her saying one day, "When the pain in my hands makes them want to stop writing, I just shut my eyes and stand in the rain. You probably won't believe this, young man, but most of that pain goes away. Oh, a little stays, just to remind me that I'm an old woman, but most of it goes away." Over the years I have thought much about this notion of prayer as standing in the rain. When I talk with people about prayer, or pray with them, I sometimes use Mrs Mac's image, because I think she was right. The heart of prayer is not battering on the doors of heaven. It is openness, receptivity, listening. When one grasps that, he or she has understood one of the great truths in this allegory of the vine: that God feeds and waters and cares for the soul of a person. III
And third, it’s a statement about the purpose of life. Jesus says, "My Father's glory is shown by your bearing much fruit." Much as I love ornamental vines, this is about vines that yield grapes and wine – food staples. So, unless the vine produces what will feed and nourish human life, it's not much good. This brings us to the heart of what it means to be Christian: it means to put into the world what will feed and nourish human life. I want to take you back to the chap I met on the night plane. He was deeply aware of a great gap at precisely this point. I have not told you all our conversation, because I wanted to keep this part to the end. You can do a lot of talking on a long flight. I found he had some church links, mainly on account of his family, and I think this possibly underlay his uneasy conscience. I said to him, "With your knowledge of the law (he was a Harvard law graduate) and of finance, you could do a lot for people who don't understand either. There's an urban parish in Roxbury-Dorchester (the black area of Boston) that's trying to fill a position for a legal and financial counsellor among low income people. You have the gifts, and I'll give you the name to call." I didn't push him. But when I left him at Logan Airport, I had the hope that he may find a new source of fulfilment and satisfaction from putting something good into the world, rather than taking out; putting into the world what would feed and nourish human life. I don't know what happened, so I can't close with a success story. At least, where he is concerned. Let me instead close with this. Last Sunday night I saw a preview of a great film, due for release in July and one I want you all to see. It is the story of William Wilberforce’s campaign in the British Parliament to abolish the slave trade. Wilberforce was elected at 21 and served to the age of 66, when poor health forced his retirement. He began his campaign when only 28, to an ongoing torrent of hostility and ridicule. It was argued that an end to the slave trade, and to slavery, would be economic suicide for the Empire! But Prime Minister Pitt backed him. Wilberforce garnered immense public support, first rubbished by his colleagues as irrelevent, and gradually won over his colleagues. Wilberforce was a leader in what was called the ‘Clapham Sect’, a group that insisted Christians should take their commitment with absolute seriousness and be campaigning against all forms of injustice. The biggest influences on him were Nonconformist preacher Philip Doddridge and Anglican John Newton, former slaver who wrote ‘Amazing Grace’. Fittingly, that is the name of the film. It stars Albert Finney as John Newton and the Welsh actor Ioan Gruffydd as Wilberforce. It is a must see: reminding us powerfully of what Davis McCaughey said 30 years ago about the purpose of the church – that it exists for the glory of God and the salvation of humanity. Thanks be to God. Amen. ___________________________________________________
An
address presented by the Rev Dr John Bodycomb at Trinity
Uniting Church North Balwyn, on 24th June, 2007 IT MAY BE
REPRODUCED WITH ACKNOWLEDGMENT. |
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Page updated 26/06/07