Constance Hastings April 22, 2024
Letting someone get this close, it’s scary. I’d rather hide those parts that people could ridicule, think less of me. Least of all, I’d never want someone who’s so much better, more perfect than I see it. Why does God have to come so close?
It was time. Three years ago, he’d told his mother it wasn’t time. Gazing into the vats, the water had become wine, propelling his ministry until this. His hour was now.
If there was anything his friends could expect from Jesus, it would be the uncharacteristic, unanticipated, even illogical. So it was now. He removed his outer garment, wrapped a towel around his waist, poured water into a basin, and began to wash their feet. Their Lord and master, dressed as a servant or slave, touched them where dirt stuck in their cracked and calloused feet.
The water was cool and comforting, his hands gently massaging, the towel warm and soothing. Stooped low, moving on knees, he went from one to one, knowing how inadequate they were, disillusioned even, for what would be coming. None was excluded. Even to his betrayers, both Judas and Peter, Jesus extended this service. Peter is the only one who protests, but likely all of them were in some measure resistant.
It’s hard to allow the less attractive parts of ourselves be exposed, let alone the parts which stink, with warts, bunions, and fungus embedded in the nails. Equally difficult is to accept it from one of whom we think so highly, even worship. Such humility can disturb our esteem for them. Maybe they are not who we thought they were. Worse yet, maybe they know us better than we think, better than we know ourselves. Their goodness shouldn’t be sullied with our mean stuff, the secret knowledge of ourselves.
To allow ourselves to be washed upends structures of hierarchy. Foot washing is threatening. The servant kneels lower than the recipient. If someone of superior status becomes a servant to others, it becomes an act of relinquishing power. To relinquish power is to accept vulnerability, openness to change, an exchange of one’s will for the process of transformation. Change can be dangerous.
Jesus understands. Though for the moment he took on a role drastically different from how they usually saw him, he takes back his robe, familiar now as Teacher and Lord. He gives them a directive, “I have given you an example to follow. Do as I have done to you.” He explains how a servant is not greater than a master, how they need humbly to see each other and all others as servants, each and all giving, supporting, ministering to the other. None is to be excluded nor no one condemned for being too unclean or unworthy.
In itself, permitting exposure and vulnerability can open a person to abuse. Only in an atmosphere of trust should it be accepted. They would need a second companion directive to enable them for this work. “So I am giving you a new commandment: Love each other. Just as I have loved you, you should love each other.”
As I have loved, you should love. Jesus’ love is dangerous because it is so counter-cultural, an intimate act of shared power among all. Yet, in this giving is also receiving; to humbly serve the lesser ones is to realize God’s love for oneself.
A greater example was yet to come. Jesus knew it. As he lay down his garment to humbly serve, his kind of love would have him lay down his life.
HIs hour had come.
John 13: 1-17, 31-35
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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.
Feel free to get in touch with me. l'll be happy to engage with any discussion about this blog.
constance.hastings@constancehastings.com
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