Homily: Yr B Easter 5 May 6 2012, St. Albans
Readings: Acts 8-26-40; Ps 22.24-30; 1 Jn 4.7-21; Jn
15.1-8
It was just about five years
ago today that I got on a plane and traveled to the Seychelles Islands. I spent three months working there, as an
intern, as part of my theological training.
And to get ready for that posting, I took part in a 10 day orientation
program before I left. That program was for people like me who were going
overseas to do various types of work for the church. We all met in Toronto, but the people taking
part came from all over North America.
It was a great group of people, with a lot of different backgrounds and interesting
stories to tell.
And I remember in particular
one man from Texas. He was tall and
slim, and he had the usual Texan accent, greeting us with a “Howdy y’all” when
he entered the room. Now my Texan friend
didn’t talk a lot, he was a fairly quiet guy.
But as we were going through the sessions and various exercises, whenever
he did speak, he almost always said the same thing: “It’s all about relationship”. If we did a Bible study, invariably at some
point he would chime in “Well, ya know, it’s all about relationship.” If we did a session on how to work in a
culture we weren’t familiar with, he’d say, “Well, it’s all about relationship”. If we were getting training on issues of
poverty or justice, same thing. And
y’all know what? My Texan friend was always
right.
And so if my Texan friend
was with us today, and I was to ask him what he thought about today’s readings,
I’m pretty sure I know what he would say., “It’s all about relationship.” And ya know what? I think he’d be right.
In our first reading from
Acts we have the story of Philip and the Ethiopian eunuch. What an unlikely relationship! The Ethiopian is rich and powerful, riding in
a chariot. Philip is a poor Greek Jew who owns nothing but the clothes on his
back. The Ethiopian is heading home,
through the desert along a wilderness road. Philip would never even have been within a
hundred miles of him if he hadn’t been prompted first by an angel and then by
the Spirit. And as a Jew, Philip shouldn’t
even have approached the Ethiopian eunuch, for according to Jewish law, eunuchs
were treated as outcasts. While he was
in Jerusalem, this Ethiopian, for all his wealth and power, wouldn’t have even been
allowed inside the Temple to worship. He
would have had to stay outside, on the periphery.
But as he is returning home
from Jerusalem, something different happens.
Philip, instead of treating him like an outcast, actually gets into his
chariot beside him and takes the time to answer his questions, and to explain
to him the scriptures and the good news about Jesus. The Ethiopian goes from being an outcast to
being a companion, a friend, a brother.
The relationship changes. And the
Ethiopian’s response is to ask to be baptized as a sign of this new
relationship, and he goes on his way rejoicing.
It’s all about relationship. In
fact it seems like this God of ours has a way of orchestrating even the most
unlikely of relationships.
And just as Philip by his
very actions invites the Ethiopian to think about and experience God in a new
way, John in the letter that we heard in our second reading invites us to think
about and experience God in a new way. Often,
we think of God as a being, maybe the “supreme being” that philosophers like to
talk about. Or we think of God as a
person, and we use human analogies such as king or creator or father to think
about God. Or we think of God as a kind
of super-person, some kind of superman with the amazing ability to create the
heavens and the earth. But John in our
second reading talks about God in a very different way. Twice he says, “God is love”. Theos Agape Estin. Notice that he doesn’t say “God loves”, as if
God is a person doing something, nor does he say “God is loving” as if loving
is an adjective describing what God the being is like. No, he says “God is love”. Think of God not as a person or being, but as
a relationship. The essence of God is the
relationship of love.
Now there are a number of
ways that we can think about this. In
the ancient world, according to Greek natural philosophy or what we would now
call science, it was understood that the universe consisted of four elements
and two forces. The four elements were
earth, air, fire and water, and the two forces were love and hate. Love was the force of attraction, the force
that brought things together, and hate was the force of repulsion that drove
things apart. So on one level, to assert
that God is love is to make an analogy with the unseen force which permeates
our universe and draws the elements together, draws things into relationship
with each other and creates the wonderful variety that we find in our world.
The early theologians of the
church, as they thought about John’s assertion that “God is love” eventually
fleshed this out into our understanding of God as Trinity, the idea that there
is one God in three persons, the Father, the Son and the Spirit, and that at
the core of this one God is that relationship, the relationship of love between
Father, Son and Spirit. A thousand years later, St. Thomas Aquinas, a
theologian of the 13th century pointed out along the same lines that
love is a unifying force, that it brings the many into one. We see how this is meant to work in marriage,
where we talk about the “two becoming one”, and we use this same understanding
when we talk about God as Trinity, where the three become one. God is a relationship, and we are created in God’s
image.
I think that this is a new
perspective for most of us, and that’s in part because we’re so used to
thinking of ourselves not as a relationship, but as individuals, independent,
autonomous and separate. This way of
seeing ourselves comes from the modern sense of identity that has been with us
for about the last four hundred years:
what makes me me is that I’m not you.
I’m separate and distinct from you.
But what if John is right,
that God is a relationship. And what if,
as the book of Genesis tells us, what if it’s true that God is our creator and
that we are created in God’s image. We
would have to change our way of seeing things.
We might even have to change the way we see ourselves.
Suppose we change our
vision. Suppose I was to realize that
what makes me me is my relationship with you.
Suppose I was to realize that my very identity, my meaning and purpose
in life is to be found in my relationships, in the network of relationships
that we call community.
In both his letter and the
gospel that we heard today, John talks about “abiding”. Living in each other, dwelling in each
other. “Abide in me as I abide in you,”
Jesus tells his disciples. If God is
love, then those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them.
It is these relationships,
our relationship with God and our relationships with each other that make us
who we are and give us life, abundant life, the life in all its abundance that
we talked about last week. It’s these
relationships that allow us to grow into the people that we were created to
be. It is these relationships that are
fruitful, in a beautiful variety of different ways that are all underpinned by
the commandment to love one another.
Jesus tries to sum this up
for his disciples by giving them a picture, the image of the grape vine. The vine is of course a tangled network of
relationships. There are the roots which
go down into the earth to draw out nourishment for the whole organism. There are the branches which both grow leaves
to take in the energy from the sun, and produce the grapes. And
there is the vine which ties it all together.
In this image, we are
pictured as the branches, connected and rooted in this wider network of
relationships with the other branches and with the vine. As branches, the only way we can produce
fruit is if we remain in the vine.
Imagine, for a minute that there was a branch that decided that it would
be better off if it left the vine and struck out on its own. How do you think it would do? Would it produce any grapes? Of course not, in fact once it was separated
from the vine, it wouldn’t even be the branch of a grapevine anymore. It would just be dead wood.
None of us want to end up as
dead wood. We want to be alive, with
energy and nourishment coursing through our veins, full of love and vitality,
living lives that are fruitful, in relationship with God and with each other,
loving one another. Now that isn’t
always easy. Anyone who has grown grapes
knows that the grapevine needs a lot of tender loving care and attention,
digging here and fertilizing there, and tying up the branches and pruning as
necessary. Our relationships and our
communities are no different. But just
like in Jesus parable, there is a gardener, a vinegrower who is there to tend
the vine, to help it and encourage it to grow good fruit. The name of that vinegrower is love, and it
is that love that makes us who we are. And
as my Texan friend would say to y’all, it’s all about relationship.
Amen.