
On Sunday, we read words from the 15th chapter of the Gospel of John. Although it had some compelling imagery about vines and branches, there were some other bits in there that might ruffle some Unitarian Universalist feathers.
There are three temptations that immediately occur to me when I think about reading the Bible: I’m tempted to read things as I was taught by others at an earlier point in my life. I’m tempted to discard biblical passages without even reading them because of how Christianity and the Bible are being used for harmful purpose these days. And if I get past those two ways of giving away power to other people, I’m tempted to read things so literally and directly that I can dismiss or refute them without considering what value they might have for me.
Many people who believe differently from me use Jewish and Christian scriptures as a framework for their beliefs, though. If I can sincerely engage with a text, not to refute it but to draw meaningful insight from my own spiritual perspective, I have a better chance of dialogue and connection. So, most of the time my curiosity and my confidence in my theological grounding serve as wise guides.
We focused on the vine and branches metaphor on Sunday. If we interpret that the way of Jesus is intended to exemplify liberating Love, then we might agree that it’s a good thing to stay connected to that. Liberating Love nourishes our spirits and provides an appropriate root system for our work in the world. And when our lives and actions flow from that source, we hopefully see results (fruit) in all our relationships. There’s some pruning of branches—which is to say we keep learning and growing. And sometimes that learning and growing is painful. But when we take our spiritual foundation seriously, it leads to more fruitfulness—more results in the world and in our lives that reflect the values we embrace.
There are lots of reasons we could do things. We do and say things all the time that don’t flow from a connection with liberating love. We get anxious and just want our anxiety to go away, so we act impulsively. And then sometimes we immediately get anxious about something else. We’re afraid of what politicians will do. We’re afraid of what our neighbors will do. We might be afraid of our own financial well-being or afraid that our work will be unsatisfying or that our children will struggle in ways we don’t know how to address. We might be very busy in our lives or in the world trying to make things happen in a way that lines up with what we want.
And a piece of what this passage of text suggests is that all of the frantic or anxious activity we might engage in only results in disconnection. It separates us from liberating love. From receiving it and from embodying it. You don’t have to believe what this passage suggests, but it suggests that there’s a better, more life-giving way to bear fruit in the world.
What about that bit where Jesus says we have to die for our friends? Well, some translations word it a bit differently. The words might be translated as “lay down your life” in some of the versions you’ve read. Maybe we would prefer, “If you really want to show people that you love them, set aside the things that you’re making artificially urgent, pause the frantically doing, resist the urge to numb yourself or distract yourself with empty diversions, and be present with people. Prioritize genuine connection and focus on another human being, and you’ll be demonstrating liberating love at its best.”
When I put it like that, it starts to feel a little convicting. Part of me prefers the translation I can dismiss more easily. There aren’t a lot of people I’d die for, and I could only make that decision once. But if “laying down my life” really means setting aside the things I’m making disproportionately important to allow another human being to be important, I might have to make that sacrifice daily. And I imagine that decision could be rooted in the vine of liberating love. And I imagine that decision could bear meaningful fruit.
Our values aren’t always easy to live, but sometimes they can be incredibly clear.
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