Jesus said “I am the vine, and my Father
is the vinegrower. I am the true vine,
and you are the branches.”
May I speak in the name of the risen
Christ. Amen.
This Thursday, I took a final exam –
hopefully my final exam – at the
Divinity School,
Fittingly, I think, for a class called
“Transitional Moments in Western Christian History, Part II.”
In the first half of that class, the
final exam had an essay question on it:
What makes a moment transitional?
It’s a question that Greg Ganssle
knocked out of the park last week with his front-porch analogy:
Transition is not unusual.
Transition // is the new normal.
The epistle reading from 1 John is
trying to re-wire our hearts for a new normal.
“Beloved,
let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and
knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love. God’s love was revealed among us in this way:
God sent his only Son into the world so that we might live through him. In this is love, not that we loved
God but that he loved us and sent his
Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins.”
In just four verses, John uses the word
love ten times.
Twenty-five times in the reading for
today alone. I didn’t bother to count
the whole book.
John wants the normal setting of our
hearts to be love for God, love for each other,
Love all the time.
Including times of transition.
In fact, reading 1 John through the lens
of transition goes a step further.
It isn’t just that we should love all
the time.
It isn’t that we have to maintain our love
through times of transition.
Love demands that we undergo radical
transition.
The real heart of love is not what we
think we have for God.
The real heart of love is what God has
for us, what God did for us.
The real heart of love is that God loved
us first, and sent his only Son into the world
That we might live through him.
Love demanded reconciliation for our
sins.
Love became an atoning sacrifice for our
sins.
Love is incarnation, the word of God,
the love of God made flesh for us.
If you want to know about transition, hear
these words from Phillipians:
He did not consider equality with God –
Which he had –
Something to be exploited.
He emptied himself,
Taking the very nature of a servant,
Becoming obedient to death, even death
on a cross.
Our faith is founded on the greatest
transitions of all time,
The transition of love:
Incarnation. Crucifixion.
Resurrection. Ascension.
Ascension brings with it some pretty
incredible transitions.
The book of Acts in one sense is the
Acts of the Apostles,
A model for the church in transition
that we could very easily imitate:
Sharing all things in common,
Giving to all who have need,
Gathering for prayer.
But in another sense the book of Acts is
a more singular Act of the Holy Spirit,
An unrelenting presence of unexpected
love sustaining this new body called the church
Through a whirlwind time of transition.
The Book of Acts catalogues that
fractured sense of time when every follower of Jesus
Struggles to figure out what it means follow
Jesus with Jesus not around.
The Holy Spirit somehow shows up in the
middle of their struggle,
Stretching and expanding their
communities to new forms, new definitions, even new locations.
One of the things that makes transition
so difficult for us is that transition marks a time when we don’t
know what we
can expect.
I still remember the words of a
professor during my orientation at the divinity school:
“If you are exhausted, that is ok.
The basic neural pathways that form your
base expectations for everyday living are all being upended.”
Where’s the bathroom? Where’s the water fountain? When are we going to eat? Where even are we? What’s going on?
Adjusting to a new time, a new place, a
new set of relationships takes a lot of work.
Transition is exhausting,
Because we don’t know what we can expect
Or even what we should expect.
I’ve always been struck by the question
John Bonk asks about the gospels:
[And forgive me, John, for misquoting
you so terribly]
What are we left with of Jesus life if
we take away all the interruptions?
Jesus’ life on earth – his incarnational
life of love, the greatest transition ever known –
Is constantly filled with
interruptions. Heal me. Son of David have mercy on me. Who is this woman? Teacher, we caught this woman in the act of
adultery. Should we pay taxes to
Caesar? Teacher, what marvelous
stones! These people are hungry, and we
have no food. Lazarus has died. How can I enter the kingdom of heaven?
Jesus is always getting interrupted.
And he always responds with patience,
letting the other that he encounters set the agenda.
If our faith is founded on the greatest
transition of all time,
One of the marks of discipleship should
be a healthy relationship with transition, with interruption.
One of the marks of our discipleship
should be our ability to respond to interruptions by patiently letting others
set the agenda.
One of the marks of our discipleship
should be
That we think transition is normal.
Philip gives us a great example of this.
What’s that? Walk down the wilderness road?
OK.
Go over to the chariot with the foreigner
in it?
OK.
Explain to me what I’m reading!
OK.
By the way, we’re just gonna drive this
chariot around a little bit while you explain.
OK.
What is there to prevent me from being
baptized?
OK. Let’s do it!
Poof!
You’re in Azotus.
OK.
No big deal. Guess I’ll just do
some preaching then.
Philip embraces transition. He isn’t surprised by it. He isn’t fazed by interruption.
He’s the perfect example of how we
should apply those words from 1 Peter:
Be prepared, in season and out of
season, to give an account of the hope which is in you.
In season and out of season.
Transitions are going to happen. They are normal for a disciple of Jesus.
Times and seasons are constantly
changing.
What has to remain constant is our
ability to listen to the Holy Spirit,
To speak of the hope that we have
in Jesus,
To know that we are rooted in the love of God our
Father.
St. John’s Episcopal Church at Orange
and Humphrey is at a new time of transition.
St. John’s is in a time when we don’t
know what to expect,
And we don’t even know what we should
expect.
St. John’s is in a time when what was
normal for the last few years has been interrupted.
The temptation is going to be
intentional about setting our own schedules,
Trying to figure out exactly what we
want and exactly who we want to be,
To create a plan of action and to follow
it through,
To set our own agenda.
That kind of thinking, of community
awareness, of intentionality has its place.
But Brothers and sisters, we need to be
cautious about walking down that broadly defined road.
Today I articulate as challenge to all
of us – myself included, in my own time of post-graduation transition –
The challenge to slow down,
To pay attention to the things that
annoy us -
About ourselves, our communities, the
relationships we have, the tasks we don’t want to do –
The things that interrupt the lives we
want to lead.
I call that challenge listening for the
Holy Spirit.
We have before us the challenge to act
with patience,
To respond to every difficult question
that comes before us
To let other people set the agenda.
In this time of transition,
We must ask for and let our hearts be
re-wired to a new normal,
To the very heart of love that is God’s
very self,
The mystery of faith: Jesus Christ
crucified, risen, and coming again.
Transitions and interruptions are
challenges to our expectations.
When we listen for the Holy Spirit’s voice,
When we let ourselves abide in the
life-changing love of Jesus Christ,
Transitions and interruptions remind us
that our lives and our communities are not / about / us.
Transitions and interruptions become the
very acts of God.
Transitions and interruptions are the
pruning shears of God,
Reminding us that we are the branches,
Grafted onto the true vine,
Who wanders and grows not on its own, or
according to its own path,
But is itself pruned and guided by the
very hand and love of God the Father.
Amen.
