JAMES CAMPBELL
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LIFE AMONGST THE GRAPES

4/28/2024

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Sunday, April 28, 2024 – Easter 5
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
 
 
John 15:1-8
 
”I am the true vine, and my Father is the vine grower. He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit. You have already been cleansed by the word that I have spoken to you. 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. Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned. 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.”
 
I John 4:7-8, 20-21
 
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. 
 
Those who say, “I love God,” and hate their brothers or sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen. The commandment we have from him is this: those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also.
 
 +++
 
I’ve never really minded the cold… until this year.  It wasn’t a harsh winter, and yet I felt cold most of the time.  We didn’t have a lot of snow, but we certainly made up for it in drenching rains and endlessly gray skies.  The result of all of this was that I developed an intense case of spring fever. 
 
And so, last week, I self-medicated… at Cheshire Nursery.  I was looking for some bedding plants, right here in the bedding plant capital of Connecticut.  As soon as I stepped in the greenhouse, I felt as if I were born again. At one point, I literally stopped in my tracks to take a deep breath of all of that budding life.  I literally felt reconnected to the earth.  It was transcendent.  
 
We all need to feel reconnected to the earth, not only because it is our divinely appointed home, but because connection to the earth represents connection to all that which is beyond our individual lives.  To be reconnected to the earth is to acknowledge that we do not live in isolation.  We live in community with plants and animals and water and sky and other humans.  And we are all connected to that One Source.  Jesus said it like this: “I am the vine and you are the branches.” 
 
This statement represents the last of Jesus’s I AM statements as recorded in the Gospel of John.  There are seven altogether – well-known and beloved sayings like “I am the bread of life”; “I am the light of the world”; “I am the good shepherd”; “I am the resurrection and the life.”  But what’s interesting about today’s statement, “I am the vine and you are the branches” is that it is the only one of the seven that is not exclusively about Jesus.  We are included in this analogy.  We are the branches.
 
Now everyone to whom Jesus first said this would have been able to picture instantly what he meant.  Because they knew how grapes grew.  They knew that the twisting branches sometimes grew so closely together that no one could tell where one began and the other ended.  They knew that the best grapes – the sweetest and the juiciest – were the ones closest to the vine; closest to the source of nutrition.  They also knew that the vinedresser removed all the fruitless branches so that they would not drain nutrients from the others.  And they knew that an untended vine would quickly grow out of control, making the whole plant struggle, and thus producing unhealthy fruit.  
 
So, when Jesus said, “I am the Vine and you are the branches” he was reminding us of our interconnectedness to and our interdependence upon one another, and of our need to stay close to him who is the source of all life.  
 
Now, staying close to Jesus sounds like a really good idea, doesn’t it?  But what exactly does it mean?  How exactly do we do it?  How do we know we’re doing it right?  
 
Some people will tell you exactly how they think you should do it right.  Staying close to Jesus, they say, is really about accepting a particular understanding of the Bible and theology and the human condition.  It’s about believing all the so-called “right things.”  Therefore it is largely a function of your mind.  
 
But is that what Jesus said with the words: “I am the vine and you are the branches”?  As with so many of his teachings, Jesus doesn’t tell us how as much as he tells us what.  He doesn’t give us a method as much as he points us to the end result.  It is teaching by deduction.  And you know you have understood when your life produces the kind of fruit that is the natural result of abiding in the vine.  
 
So, what does that fruit look like?  How does it taste?  The Epistle lesson of the day makes that very clear.  I John 4:7-8 declares: “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.” 
 
The fruit of our lives is nothing less than an imitation of God, who is love.  And this love has very little to do with the way we feel at any given moment.  It is not sentimental.  In fact, I think that sentiment can be the enemy of true love.  Because love is action.  Love is a bold decision to “Do unto others exactly as you would want done to you.”
 
It’s simple.  But it’s not easy.  Because the “others” in “do unto others…” means everyone.  EVERYONE.  That’s why staying connected to the Vine is so important.  That’s why having the best nutrition is vital to the production of this kind of fruit.
 
But increasingly, we’re addicted to junk food… or worse.  We gorge ourselves on outrage and anger and division and tribalism.  We scorn and scoff, dehumanize and demonize.  And what’s worse yet, we do these things in the name of religion or patriotism.  And then we wonder why we are so hungry, and why the fruit of our lives is so shriveled and bitter and poisonous.  
 
Recently, I received two articles, from two different parishioners, from two very different publications.  One article was from the Wall Street Journal and the other was from the Atlantic Magazine.  And while the Journal and the Atlantic often see the world from different perspectives, these two articles were remarkably similar in their basic message.  
 
They began by decrying the precipitous decline of organized religion in the United States.  And then they made the case that this decline of congregational life was tied directly to the rise of a bitterly divided, angry, and soul-sick nation.  
 
The authors – one Christian and one agnostic – were not so much concerned with doctrine, but with the loss of a sense of community that congregations embody; the fact that very different kinds of people sit in this room week after week, and engage in common purpose, year after year.  Both authors lamented the tragic loss of the idea of the common good – that what is good for you is actually good for me.  Without ever using Gospel language, both authors mourned our disconnection from the Source.  
 
When Jesus said: “I am the vine and you are the branches” it was a reminder that branches do no grow in isolation.  They grow in tangled webs of life, helping to support one another when the storms rage.  Grapes grow in clusters, clinging to one another.  That’s the bottom line for all of us branches and grapes.  I need you.  You need me.  And we all need our neighbors and our neighbors need us.  
 
So, love your neighbor as yourself.  Forgive your enemies.  Don’t make an idol of your own opinions.  Don’t fall in love with your own voice.  Do good to those who persecute you.  Be a reconciler.  Stand up for the defenseless.  Turn the other cheek.  Work for justice.  Make peace. 
 
And if any of that sounds like a tall order, it’s because it is.  But we don’t do any of this on our own.  We are a beautifully tangled community.  And the Vine to whom we cling for our very sustenance, is the One who showed us exactly what real love looks like.
 
 

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THE OTHER BEATITUDE

4/14/2024

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​Sunday, April 14, 2024 – Easter 3

First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
 
 
John 20:19-31
 
When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”
 
A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.” Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!” Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.
 
 
In the Communion liturgy today, we will use words of welcome that I have loved since the very first time I ever heard them.  The words are like this: “The first time Jesus sat down to this meal, among those gathered there was one who would doubt him, one who would deny him, one who would betray him, and they would all leave him alone before that night was over.  And he knew it.  Still, he sat down to eat with them.  If he ate with them, surely he’s ready to eat with us…”
 
I love those words because of their exceedingly broad welcome despite our flawed humanity.  They remind us of the bottom line: that we are loved, accepted, and welcomed just as we are.  -  But there is also something about these words that bothers me.  And I couldn’t quite put my finger on it until this week, as I was preparing this sermon about the one we call “Doubting Thomas.”
 
Doubting Thomas, a name no one ever called him while he was alive.  Doubting Thomas, as if that’s all he ever was.  
 
But the name stuck.  And names tend to define us for others.  And I think that one of the reasons this name still sticks is that it makes Thomas a convenient scapegoat for something that we have defined as a defect: doubt.  - And that is what bothers me about this communion invitation.  It ever so casually lumps doubt into the same bucket as denial and betrayal.  And frankly, nothing could be farther from the truth – because denial and betrayal are both decisions that we make.  But doubt often comes to us unbidden, nibbling at the corners of our minds.  And because we think of it as a weakness, we cannot see the role it plays in a healthy and lively faith.  
 
It was the evening of the Day of Resurrection.  And the traumatized disciples were locked behind closed doors, fearing for their lives.  Actually, John says that they were locked away “for fear of the Jews.”  And this phrase, and others like it in the Gospel of John, has been used to fuel anti-Semitism for much of the church’s history.  But that is a misreading of John’s Gospel.  Remember that Jesus himself was a Jew, and the disciples were all Jews, and all of the first Christ-followers were Jews.  So, they were not so self-loathing that they were afraid of themselves.  And they were not afraid of all the people they knew and loved.  And they were not afraid of the religion that formed them.  - They were afraid of the religious authorities who had conspired with the Romans to have Jesus put to death.  So, when you see a reference to “the Jews” in John’s Gospel, always read it like that: the religious authorities. 
 
So, there the disciples were, locked in, when suddenly the Risen Jesus appears in the room.  And the very first thing he said to his emotionally battered friends was: “Peace be with you.”  Then Jesus showed them his wounds, still present and prominent even after the Resurrection.   
 
And then an odd thing happened.  Jesus breathed on his friends and said: “Receive the Holy Spirit.”  This is the Gospel of John’s version of the Pentecost: no upper room, no flames of fire, no speaking in tongues - just Jesus breathing life on his friends.  
 
Unfortunately, not everyone was there that day.  Thomas was absent.  And that has always made me wonder: wasn’t he afraid too?  And just what was he doing that day when everyone else was locked away?
 
The next time the rest of the disciples saw Thomas, they told him that they had seen the Lord.  This is the same message that the first witness, Mary Magdalene had proclaimed.  But apparently, no one believed her, since the same day they had locked themselves in a room.  But now that they had seen Jesus too, they expected old Tom to take their word for it - a courtesy they had not extended to Mary.  
 
But Thomas didn’t take their word for it.  And Thomas went even further, proclaiming that unless he put his finger in the mark of the nail and his hand in the opening in Jesus’s side, he would not believe a word of it.
 
And frankly, why should he?  Why should anyone believe such an outlandish thing just because someone else said it is so?  
 
A week later, Jesus’s disciples were once again behind secured doors.  Now, wait a minute… Hadn’t they seen the Risen Jesus for themselves seven days before?  They sure had.  But isn’t that true to form for the way faith works for all of us – moments of illumination and clarity are very often followed by moments of deep darkness and confusion.  
 
But Jesus appeared behinds those bolted doors too.  And notice his lack of recrimination.  He doesn’t ask them why the door is locked.  He doesn’t ask them why their faith isn’t stronger.  He doesn’t ask them why the Resurrection didn’t make a bigger difference in their lives.  He just says what he always says: “Peace be with you.”
 
This time, Thomas was there.  This time, Jesus invited Thomas to get the proof he needed.  Now, there is no indication that Thomas actually put his finger and his hands in the wounds.  But seeing was believing.  And it caused Thomas to make one of the most profound confessions of faith in the entire New Testament: “My Lord and my God,” he exclaimed.
 
It was a very bright moment.  Until, of course, it faded.  Until, of course, Thomas doubted again.  Until, of course, the next time the disciples hid behind locked doors.  - And they are us.  Because I have doubts.  Yes, really.  And you have doubts.  Doubt is simply the conversation that faith has with reality.  But if this story tells us anything, it is this: that no door, no wall, no pain, no fear, no doubt can ultimately stop the One who comes speaking peace.  
 
My niece was raised in the church – in fact, she was there all the time.  But as she got older, the church became less attractive for her.  It seemed to have little resonance in her life or connection to how she saw the world.  Eventually, her disinterest in the church started to harden into something else based in her disappointment with God and her confusion about unanswered prayers.  And one she came to the conclusion that she doesn’t believe there is a God.  
 
When her mother told me this, I could hear the love and the concern in her voice.  We were both quiet for a moment, and then I said: “Well, my niece may no longer believe in God.  But God will always believe in her.  And that’s what really matters.”  
 
And God believes in you.  God believes in me.  God believes in everyone ever born.  God’s love for us does not depend upon the function of our minds.  Therefore, doubt is not something to ultimately fear nor is it a reason for shame.  In fact, I think it is often something far brighter than that.  Doubt can be a sign of life.  It can be a sign that God and Jesus and the world and the church and justice and peace and equity actually matter to you deeply.
 
So, blessed be Thomas, who cared too much to accept an easy answer!  And blessed be all of us who doubt, for it is to us that Jesus comes, speaking peace.  
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"The glory of God is the human person fully alive."
Saint Irenaeus of Lyon, 2nd century