Constance Hastings April 22, 2024
Dear, Dear Jesus, Oh Son of Man, you gotta just calm down. Really, calling your best man a “Satan”? Peter was just trying to talk some sense into you. He’d already settled it. You are the Messiah. (Mark 8:29) The twelve in your crew are behind you. Now, organize your heavenly forces, march into Jerusalem, and take that city. All of Israel will flock to your side, and the filthy Romans will flee fast on the roads they built for themselves. Face it; You are THE Man!
Campaign to Lose
If only… but that wasn’t the plan. Up until then, things had been cool. Jesus’ fame preceded him due to his healings and feeding thousands of people. They’d even seen him walk on water. The hope of the nation was behind him, and his disciples had front row access to all of it. But now he’d started this weird talk of suffering, rejection, even death. He ended it with rising again three days later. Where was this all coming from?
“You are seeing things merely from a human point of view, not from God’s,” he said. You mean God wants the chosen ones of Israel to live like this forever? What’s wrong with wanting to better your life, have an ambition to achieve more, turn your hard work into a huge payday, sit back and enjoy the fruits of your labor? Isn’t that what the world says, have it your way? What’s God got against any of that?
It’s not what God is against; it’s what God is for. At this point, Jesus is trying to give them a clear-eyed picture of where they were heading. Jerusalem was not going to be a fun festival. Coming into the city just before Passover, they would not only be met with adoring crowds (most looking for a miracle-show), but also a hard collision with the religious and political leaders. The opposition recognized they were losing control of their elevated privilege built on coercion to Jesus’ popularity among his followers. Things would reach a tipping point. They would have to use their biggest weapon, the power to kill. Executions kept things quiet for a good while. Jesus would be in their crosshairs.
Still, he refused to play his enemies’ game. To follow him, Jesus said to put aside their selfish desires, dreams, and purposes. Instead, lift and accept the cross given to them, and get behind what he was doing, the way he was doing it. Keep your life, and you will lose it. Or lose your life for God’s sake, and you’ll find it. It’s a paradox that grapples with finding meaning in a life lived or the meaning of life found by relinquishing it for a larger, greater meaning.
That grappling with these contested desires is not an easy effort. The essence of sacrifice is giving up what one thinks one has to have, the rights to oneself to have one’s own way, the impulse to take the easy road. It means listening in a new direction that quiets the noise of the world so the world’s own suffering, pain, hurts and rejections becomes one’s own. Eventually, the cross you shoulder is not just your own, but also the crosses of others by identifying with those too weak, too powerless, too defeated to hope for help. It’s a choice that more often than not seems dumb, ridiculous, too uncompromising for what makes for success, the good life as it’s called.
Jesus’ honesty in describing what was ahead was directed toward himself as much as his disciples and the crowd. A Roman cross was designed not only to take life but to take it by torture. The fear it instilled was as great as the death it accomplished. Yet Jesus said give up your life, and you will find it. The life you find will rise above the small, petty mundane efforts of getting through. It loses itself in the greater work of God and the expansion of love into grace. So he said, “on the third day,” Jesus would complete that work by robbing death of its ultimate power and rising again bringing new life.
“And how do you benefit if you gain the whole world but lose your own soul in the process?”
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Jesus kept talking. He’d just said it was time to go. But he kept talking. The tension in the room was a weighty blend of grief, some denial, maybe even suppressed anger at what he was saying held in place by the exhaustion of the week. Tonight was not how it had started, an exhilarating parade with the crowd calling him the new king, a king who would save. (Mark 11:1-11)
But he kept saying things like being lifted on a cross even as he almost desperately called to the people to believe he was sent from God. Those gathered in the city for the Passover festival had heard about his miracle of bringing a friend back to life after four days dead. (John 11:1-44) But most were not buying much more of his message than that. Still, he just kept talking.
Earlier in the evening, he had done something weird, uncharacteristic for one who would be king. He’d dressed like a servant and washed their dirty feet, calling upon them to serve others likewise. (John 13:1-17)
Then he’d said the unthinkable, that one of them, these who had followed and learned of him for three years, would betray him. Maybe that’s why he’d said to Judas, “Hurry. Do it now.” Judas was the treasurer who paid for their meals and gave money to the poor. (John 13:27-30) Do you think he left to pay off any threat to their Rabbi and themselves? Jesus kept talking.
In all the confusion, Peter had declared he’d die for his Lord. Jesus silenced the room when he stated Peter would do go so far as to three times deny he even knew Jesus before that very night was over. (John 13:38) Next came some kind of talk about going away somewhere and how he would send a Counselor to teach and remind them of what he had said. (John 14:26)
It was too much, how he kept talking even when he said they should be going. It was as if Jesus knew when they left that room he never would have again the chance to tell them all he wanted. So he weaved in his thoughts, let them creep out and hold on where they would, seemingly just talk but growing into so much more.
“I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener.” Jesus kept talking but hold on to that thought. A vine. The image is one similar to what he is doing now. It grows, spreads out, weaves up into and among places to which it can grasp, wrap itself, become stable-tight, and then move out again. His words have been like that all night, thin trails of thought getting thicker with meaning.
Jesus fleshes it out. His Father, the one from whom he comes, is the gardener. The work of this Gardener-God is made clear from the beginning: to produce fruit. The gardener trains the branches on the vine, how to grow so light is available to all parts of it. The parts that impede ability to produce fruit are removed, pruned.
Such it has been with these friends of Jesus. The message he has given them has cut away at their ambitions, desires, misconceptions of God’s purpose in them. It’s pruning that can be severe but necessary for the fruit of the vine. Not all will accept being part of the vine. The separation leaves a wound on the vine like something nailed deep into flesh.
Severe, sometimes necessary pruning can also be a cleansing, yielding process, as if having feet or hands washed. The health of the vine and the expected fruit must be protected from disease. Yielding to the Gardener-God’s work maintains the well-being of the branches.
From the True Vine come branches, and from the yielding of the branches is fruit. There is an interconnectedness in the image that belies the translations. Eight times Jesus states the importance of remaining, abiding, being joined to him. “Apart from me, you can do nothing.”
You won’t know growth. You can’t be effective. You won’t have life in the abundance the Gardener-God would have for you. You won’t last because you won’t produce fruit. Abide, remain in, and be joined to the message Jesus brings.
To abide is to be not just a branch, an extra appendage, but an integral part of the vine. By an intimate conjoining of Love the True Vine connects with its branches. In this Christ-likeness, the branch is identified with The True Vine. Yet, this metaphor is not limited to individualism.
“You may ask any request you like, and it will be granted.” Not a blanket give-a-way is this. Throughout Jesus’ words the plural form of “you” is stated. You entails the interconnected, gathered believers who remain in, are joined to, and abide in the True Vine. In the altogether growing, cleansing, pruning of the branches is God’s desire in producing fruit.
Jesus kept talking. His message is understood as the tenuous wisps of leaves sprouted from the tips of the branch connected to the True Vine. His discourse is cloudy in its first vision, requiring multiple re-examinations as the vine sends out more branches.
Jesus kept talking. Fruit is the desire of his Gardener-God. Fruit will be taken from the vine of Love and crushed into a cup from which Jesus soon will pour out his life. The True Vine stared into his fate.
He kept talking.
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constance.hastings@constancehastings.com
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