St. John’s United Church

“Held Together by Love”

“Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God;
everyone who loves is born of God and knows God.
We love because God first loved us.
Let those who love God love their brothers and sisters also.”
(from 1 John 4:7-21)

Once there was a missionary in Africa, living in his central mission, that had a small electric plant to supply current for his church and small rectory. Now it happened that some natives from an outlying mission came to visit the padre. In the rectory they noticed an electric light hanging from the ceiling of his living room. They watched wide-eyed as he flipped the little switch and the light went on. One of the visitors asked if he could have one of those globes. The priest, thinking he wanted it for a sort of trinket or bauble, gave him a burned out bulb. On his next visit to the outlying mission, the priest stopped at the hut of the man who had asked for the globe. Imagine the missionary’s surprise when he saw the globe hanging from an ordinary string He had to explain that one needed electricity and a wire to bring the current to
the globe.

Had electricity been around in Jesus’ time, he might have used the images of power plant, wires, and light bulbs instead of his image of the vine and the branches. Another image could well be Email and the Internet, which has allowed instantaneous access to friends and loved ones on the far side of our globe. Granted it works for some, but not for others.

Jesus, in his day however, had no such images to share. So he turned to an Old Testament image — likening himself to that of a Vine, likening his Creator Parent God as the Vinedresser, and likening his disciples and followers as the branches. In an agricultural society, it is a lively image.

Unlike impersonal impulses of electricity, the vine and the branches are organic living things bursting with life. Vines have branches that extend out and beyond, growing, as it will, along the ground or along trellises and brick or stonewalls. And no matter how far the branches grow and extend themselves they stay connected to their source that gives them food, sap, nourishment. The trunk of the Vine is firmly rooted to the ground, from which it provides the minerals and nutrients, and water by which the trunk and all its branches stay alive, whether they come from the original stalk, or are grafted in.

Electricity you can turn on and turn off, and turn on again. But not so a living vine. If you’ve ever trimmed ivy back, you’ll know its tenacity. Elaine Olsen describes how, in 1999, she watched a wrecking crew demolish three houses in North Carolina (USA) damaged by Hurricane Floyd. Two homes went down quickly. The crew moved to the third one. Elaine writes, “Vince and I walked around the house for one last glance. It was then that I saw them, the last and final living remnant from 104 Lower Street. Vines, clinging beautifully to the white brick chimney, reaching almost to the top. Moments later, the first blow came from the hammer. I watched this flimsy structure wobble and fall into pieces. But the chimney with the vines took longer. It was the last to fall. It was as if those vines, encircling the chimney, provided protection of some sort. And as the blows crashed, I strained to see the green ropes as the chimney fell. The house was down. I went across the street to survey the remains. Tears came, and through my blurred vision I spotted a most unusual gift — green, unbroken, dusty, yet somehow reaching far above the pile that was the end of this one- hundred-year-old memory was a vine — life reaching forth, calling for notice — a garden of mercy amidst a pile of surrender — hope springing to life in the middle of crucifixion. Sometimes, it takes a demolition to see the green. Sometimes, our brokenness brings such a death that all that remains is that Vine, forever alive, forever reaching, forever protecting, reminding us that life issues
forth from the surrender.

“I am the true vine, and my Father [God] is the vine grower. God removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit God prunes to make it bear more fruit. Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing. If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples.”

And what is this fruit? Perhaps it is as St. Paul describes in his letter to the Galatians: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Or faith, hope and love, as Paul writes to the church in Corinth. And the greatest of these is LOVE — love, which permeates all the other qualities of God’s character found in and through Jesus’ ministry to the world.
On this Mother’s Day (or Christian Family Sunday as the church calls it these days), we think of home and family life. We recall the home(s) we grew up in and our present home. We bring to mind the homes and family life of our children and grandchildren, of our closest friends and neighbours. And we pray for these homes and for our communities. For this image of God as the Vinedresser, Jesus as the Vine, and we as the branches is not limited to the relationships we have as Christians in fellowship with each other. Indeed, it is at the heart of all other relationships we have, within our families, amongst friends and neighbours, as Canadians in all our multi-cultural diversity, and as citizens in the world. Christ is looking for other branches to be grafted onto the Vine in the name of LOVE, which courses the veins of the branches, through and through.

“Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. We love because God first loved us. Let those who love God love their brothers and sisters also.”

If the writer of John is correct – that God is revealed to us through such an intimate emotion and such a risky and fragile relationship as unconditional love — then that love is first and foremost demonstrated to most us (or, sadly, not) through our mothers. For better or worse, in good times and in bad memories, in days when they cuddled us on our laps and in the nights when they sent us to our rooms as punishment - our mothers continue to abide in us. Whatever fruit we are able to bear in our lives is, in large part, because of the seeds God planted in us through our mothers.
When my mother held me in her lap and read to me in the evening, and ran her finger under each word as she went across the page, she was silently asking me, ‘do you understand?’ And she kept ‘guiding’ me again and again and again to the words, until I could speak them myself - and until I fell in love forever with the Word of Life.
I have no idealistic, romantic, looking-through rose-coloured
lenses about my mother; I know her faults, her warts, her failures. But, I can also look back and realize how she began to speak to me (and my sister) about faith – even using words once in a while. I remember the simple witness of her getting up every day, so we would have breakfast on the table, and lunches to take to school, and a hug to carry down the sidewalk. I remember the profound witness of getting up on Sunday morning, when she probably could have stayed in bed, to walk us to church. I have the aged and crinkled proof that she made sure I was
baptized, and confirmed, and taught in Sunday School. More importantly, she made sure I knew without any doubt, that however much she loved me, God loved me more.

If I have done nothing else in my life – if you have nothing else in your life - I hope that is the message that we have passed on to our children (and grandchildren and great grandchildren as well) – that no matter how much I love them / that you love them (and we really, really do!!), God loves them more.

In closing, let me share one of my Mother’s Day gifts with you. It’s from Laurie (Twin A) and I found it on my computer keyboard this morning when I went in to finish off the sermon this morning. It’s a little book entitled, Dear Mom: Thank You for Everything. While it is addressed to MOM, it reminds me so beautifully of the relationship we have with GOD – a relationship held together by LOVE.

Dear Mom – Thank You for Everything
By Bradley Trevor Greive

Mom, the other day I was rubbing my belly button and it really made me stop and think — what a funny little reminder of such an important connection, a connection that reminds me of how I came to be me! I’m sure it’s hard to imagine that I was once small, helpless and completely dependent on someone else, but I was. And that someone else was you, Mom. You were there to show me my first butterfly and my first rainbow. You were there when I took my first steps (which looked remarkably similar to my first hula lesson). You were the first person to make me smile and laugh, and you were right there to hear my first words – “Dad-dee!” (Mom, I am so sorry about that!) I makes me feel wonderful when people say I resemble you, and it’s true! We have the same shaped eyes, the same ears, the same nose. And if you look closely, you’ll see that even our toes are similar. When you think about it, that isn’t so surprising – I will always be a part of you, because you created me. You sculpted my face with a million tender kisses. You taught me all the important stuff about our world and our place in it. I learned everything that matters from watching you and listening to you. (And my, my, my, that birds and bees conversation was a real eye-opener!) You shared with me all the values that make you so special – kindness, forgiveness, honesty, persistence, thoughtfulness and especially patience! You also taught me that even the worst day seems okay with a big mouthful of milk and cookies. (Mom, you’d be amazed how often your calming philosophy of milk and cookies has carried me through the hard times). What I’m saying here, Mom, is that you are the foundation upon which my character is built. And I just want to say, “Thank you.” Thank you for always making me feel so warm, safe and loved, for giving me everything I needed (and then some) to grow up and fulfil my potential. Thank you for calling me your “perfect little angel” despite overwhelming evidence that this was not actually the case. Thank you for being my full-time, on call, personal chauffeur from day one. Thank you for delicious home-cooking and for packing so much love and nutrition into my lunch box, day after day and year after year. (And an extra-special that you, Mom, for the intoxicating smell of freshly baked brownies!) Thank you for letting a chubby-cheeked two-year-old run wild among your most precious possessions and for not saying, “I told you so, I told you so, I told you so,” nearly as often as you could. Thank you for picking me up whenever I wanted a cuddle or a better view. (This probably wasn’t too good for your back, Mom). Thank you for flying to my rescue every time you heard me cry out – “I want my Mom-meeeee!” Whenever I got into a bind, you were always there for me. You’ve always known what to say, or what not to say, to make me feel better. (Or at least you tried). With your strong, gentle hands, and calm, wise words, plus lots of warm and loving hugs, you mended broken toys and broken hearts time and time again. Thank you, Mom. Thank you for encouraging me to recognize the real beauty inside me and to stand tall. Thank you for telling me I could grow up to be successful at anything I wanted if only I believed in myself the way you believed in me. Mom, I can’t tell you how much it meant to know you were always right beside me, urging me on to live my dreams. You gave me enough self-confidence to face all the challenges of this world with a smile. But Mom, as wonderful as our relationship has been, I’m not pretending it was always peaceful and perfect. I know we got into a flap over things now and then, which rarely ended well for me. Even though I’m gradually coming to terms with eating broccoli and taking that terrible pick cough syrup, I’m not sure I’ll ever get over you making me kiss your great-aunt smack on the moustache! But upon reflection, I realize that I’m really the one who should say, “I’m sorry.” As you may recall, your little bundle of joy wasn’t always a bundle of laughs. I’m sorry for the times I upset you, or made you worry about me, and for all the sleepless nights I caused. I’m sorry for splashing around in mud puddles after you dressed me up in my best clothes and new shoes, and for asking, “Are we there yet? Are we there yet?” every time we got in the car. I’m sorry I tried so hard to sneak out of taking baths and for sulking when you made me go to school or wouldn’t let me get a Mickey Mouse tattoo or get my tongue pierced…I’m truly sorry for the times I was downright nasty and difficult (especially in nice restaurants!) And I do feel bad about all the 5a.m. in-your-face wake-up calls on my birthdays, Christmas mornings, and all those times I was too excited to sleep. I’m really sorry that I didn’t give you more time to yourself – even just a few more quiet moments to think and to dream. I realize now what a tremendous sacrifice you made for me. I know my playtime took precedence over your rest time, my meal times took precedence over your meal times, and my potty training took precedence over absolutely everything. Then, every time you tried to relax, I’d burst into the room with outrageous demands like: “Mom, I’m starving!” “Mommy, I’m bored!” “Mommy, I can’t find my pet chicken anywhere. I need you to wake up and help me find it right now!” Frankly, I’d be lost without you, Mom, and I only wish I had more than one lifetime to repay the incredible debt I owe you. You have shown me a world filled with love and wonder. You have put me on the path to a rich and rewarding life. And you have made me happier than you could possibly imagine. I want the whole world to know: “My Mom is the greatest Mom in the universe! Thank you, Mom. Thank you for everything.”

Acknowledgements: Erma Bombeck; Thom Shuman; John Maynard

A meditation preached by the Rev. Myra Garvin at St. John’s United Church, Brockville
Sunday May 14, 2006 – Easter 5B – Christian Family Sunday / Mother’s Day / Baptism