13 July 2017

Sermon, Easter VII, Year A, John 17:1-11, 28 May 2017

Yesterday I worked in my garden. Let me explain this does not involve anything terribly strenuous. I have a large back yard and a fairly substantial front yard, but I have a wonderful person who takes care of the heavy work. I do my gardening in pots. Large pots, but they are pots all the same. Less weeding but more watering is the trade-off, but gardening this way seems a wise thing to do since I don’t stay in one place long.
In my backyard I have nine or so pots. I grow mostly herbs, and also a few flowers and sometimes a tomato plant. I haven’t succumbed to a tomato plant yet because I don’t think my back area gets enough sun. So what I did yesterday – if you can call it gardening – was to get ready for today when I plant things in pots.
I’ve learned over the years, that I have to do things to plants that appear cruel, things that might seem almost punishing, to get the plants to build deep healthy root systems. This is particularly important with tomatoes. What I do would be painful to a non-gardener, and even I don’t care for it much. I clip off the lower leaves of the tomato plants and bury them deeper in the soil than they were originally planted. What this does, ideally, is to make the plants form new roots where the leaves were removed. The plants end up rooting more solidly in their pots. I learned this in Kansas, by the way, a state known for its winds. In any windy state, a solidly rooted plant is a good thing to have.
When I clip and plant, I continue to reflect on the idea that to a non-gardener, what I do appears to have the death of the plant in mind. After all, I remove what looks like healthy lower leaves and bury the plants until only the top two leaves or so shows. Yet in actual fact, the process makes the plants healthier in the long run. Spindly, long-stemmed plants whip about in the wind. They sometimes topple over before they can put down good roots, and they don’t grow or yield as much.
Much of what we see in nature is about change: painful change. Yet change ultimately brings health to the interdependent eco-system in which we live. Prairie fires cleanse the landscape, bringing dormant seeds to the surface to sprout new growth. Forest fires burn out old growth too choked to sustain life. Floods will at times sweep clean an area that has become barren and wash in healthy soil.
Human beings need change also. Systems and people become stagnant, choked by old growth, and unable to move forward. Change for an individual or a system can appear painful, but it can also mean vitality and thriving. In today’s world, staying the same means going backward. If we want to stay the same today, we have to decide what we are willing to give up, because we can no longer hold onto what we have and stay the same. Prices go up, people age, and customs change. To an eighteen year-old today, the world was never without cell phones, social networking, and text messages.
Today’s gospel is about change. That stomach tightening change most of us dislike. The gospel is about what happens between Jesus and the disciples before things change and Jesus goes away.
Jesus, in his prayer, acknowledges one of the best things we can do when change is coming or has already happened. Jesus says about the disciples, “They were yours, and you gave them to me, and they have kept your word.”[1] Painful as the future may be without him, Jesus reminds the disciples of what they need to stay rooted and grounded in God.
This is the core of healthy change: the knowledge that we have done something before and done it well. This is what Jesus does in his prayer, he points to what the disciples were able to do in the past. They were able to keep God’s word. “They were yours, and you gave them to me, and they have kept your word.”[2] In his prayer, said in their hearing, Jesus is recognizing the obedience and strength of the disciples. The disciples belong to Jesus because God gave them to him, and the disciples were able to keep God’s word with Jesus.
Now change is occurring. Jesus’ presence on earth, as the disciples have known him, is going away. They will be left without the physical presence of the Jesus they have known. This is something new. Yet Jesus offers comfort. He will no longer be with them, but they know how to be obedient and how to keep his word. And now, though Jesus himself is going away, the Holy Spirit will come to guide the disciples and be their companion in keeping Jesus’ word.
What Jesus offers is the knowledge that we have been able to do what we are being asked to do. Perhaps in a slightly different way, but we can imagine a future strengthened by what we have been able to do. Then we can look forward to change as cleansing, healing, and enlightening us so we are blessed by the change.
None of us really want to be changed – what we do want is to be blessed. And this is what Jesus offers us in this morning’s gospel. Jesus offers us a pattern for change that creates blessing for us and blessing for the world around us.
Jesus offers us a way to be sure. He offers us a way to know that we are capable of change because we have survived it before. And most of all, we are capable of change because of one constant: we belong to God and are one with God as God and Jesus are one. This is how we stay rooted and grounded in the midst of change, even if it is painful.
The past is a place to build from, a place to mine for strength and wisdom and change. The past can show us what we are capable of doing. It is in listening to the Holy Spirit that we gain the strength and wisdom for change to bless us.
What is there today that you and I are capable of doing because we can build on our experience? What is there today that you and I are willing to do that is new because we remember our strengths from the past and are rooted and grounded in Christ Jesus? What is there that you and I can do today because we belong to God and keep Jesus’ word? AMEN.     

The Rev Nicolette Papanek
©2017



[1] John 17:6b (NRSV)
[2] Ibid

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