9/8/63

Scripture: John 15: 1-11.

The parable which you heard as our Scripture reading this morning is one of simple beauty and strength. Jesus had a way of referring to simple, familiar, elemental experiences in such a way that they illuminate the truth which he wanted his hearers to grasp. Here he talks of the way in which a vine grows in the vineyard. He speaks of it in such a way as to refer to himself as the true vine, the root and stalk and strength of the plant. He refers to his Father as the vine dresser. And, but this time, when he said “My Father,” most of his hearers knew that he meant his Heavenly Father.

Jesus refers to his hearers, his disciples, as branches of the vine, he being the stalk and the root. “I am the vine, you are the branches.” It is a simple and vivid way of describing a relationship that we disciples have to Jesus, our Teacher. It is not only simple; it is striking and beautiful. But the parable (for that is what this simple description is called) is not only simple and beautiful. It is also the means of describing a very stern truth. The branches of the vine must produce! There must be good fruitage in our lives; else the Vine Dresser prunes away the unfruitful branches. They are dried and burned and forgotten. If one is a branch of the True Vine, he has available to him the nourishment to produce good fruit. And that one is preserved and encouraged by the Vine Dresser. It has life. It is known by its fruits. And this is a glory for the Vine itself and for the Vine Dresser -- that the branch is full of fruit.

Jesus has other things to say of the relationship. The branch that is cut off from the vine very soon withers. “Apart from me, you can do nothing,” he says. But so long as the branch is a part of the vine it receives its abundant nourishment and fullness of life. There is, then, in this homey parable of Jesus, a combination of simple beauty and of stern compulsion. If one is to have a living, fruitful faith, it must be connected firmly to the source of truth. This suggests the uncompromising necessity of firm and determined commitment. One needs to examine carefully the ground for his faith and to be intelligent about it. But one must take his stand!

Do you remember those earthy, uncompromising words in the third chapter of Revelation, addressed to the Laodicean church? “I know your works. You are neither cold nor hot. Would that you were cold or hot! So, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spew you out of my mouth.” [Revelation 3: 15-16]. And, a little farther on: “Those whom I love, I reprove and chasten ........ Behold I stand at the door and knock; if anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.” [Revelation 3: 19-20].

How uncompromising is that demand that one take a stand -- be cold or hot -- but be committed! This was certainly characteristic of Jesus himself. He not only taught it in the parable of the vineyard, and in other ways. He lived it himself! His chief challenge is his own committed life, a life with a tremendous purpose -- and no one could deflect him from it.

Almost everyone, sooner or later, tried to deflect Jesus from his purpose. His family tried to get him to give up the public ministry and return to Nazareth. And his refusal was so firm as to be a rebuff to them. His fellow townsmen in Nazareth had tried to belittle his high purpose, to “take the wind out of his sails,” to “bring him to his proper senses,” to rescue him from his notions. He refused to heed them.

Peter undertook to reason with him on a matter that would have compromised the Master’s principles. And, though he loved the stormy fisherman as one of his true disciples, Jesus lashed back at Peter saying, “Get behind me, Satan. You don’t smell or taste like the things of God at all.” [Matthew 16: 23]. The critics of Jesus tried repeatedly to confuse him about his purpose; but, from each such encounter, he emerged with his purpose clear and firm. His enemies threatened him with punishment unless he changed his ways, and eventually they plotted his death. But their threats fell on ears that would not hear them.

In the days before his final trip to Jerusalem, Jesus left the comparative security of Galilee for the great and certain dangers at Jerusalem. His disciples pleaded with him not to go. But he made it plain that he was going, whether they did or not. Thomas echoed what must have been their despair when he said, All right, “let us go with him that we may die with him.” [John 11: 16]. Jesus made clear his own devotion -- his own commitment. Further, he made it clear that he expects commitment from his disciples. He expects his followers to lay their lives on the line. Sometimes his firmness startles, and even offends, the casual reader of the gospels. He warns of loneliness; he emphasizes the costliness of discipleship when he asks people to follow him. When the going became tough, none could say that he had either bribed or begged his disciples to come along. He had warned his friends to come only if they were willing to leave all, to take up their cross daily, and to follow him. They came. He invites, and calls, each of us to follow him on the same committed terms. If we hesitate, and try to remain uncommitted, that may represent the big difference between our discipleship now, and that of the first apostles.

The very word commitment grates on our ears in this generation. We have schooled ourselves in the virtues of objectivity, of non-involvement, of detachment. But sooner or later we learn that we can not safely be “ivory-towered” and withdrawn from the battles of the world. Others know this, too. [Several months ago, the investment firm of Merrill Lynch, Pierce, Fenner, and Smith sponsored a full page magazine advertisement with a serious non-commercial message. They “headlined” the page in this wise: “We take our text from Nikita Kruschev.” “A Communist,” he said in his report to the Central Committee on February 14, 1956, “has no right to be a mere onlooker.” The free world may deplore and detest the methods used in Communist countries to insure participation in the plans of the government. But one of the strengths of the dictatorships is that participation. And the lack of real participation is a weakness in democracy.] bracketed material omitted from later presentations.

Lack of committed participation is the peril of the church, as well. The strong church, the serving church, the church that throws a telling weight of usefulness into the life of the day, is the church that is made of committed folk. Recently I heard of plans by a group of some sixty or seventy people to start a new United Church of Christ in their community. My informant said of them, “They are workers; they believe in what they are doing; many of them are tithers; they are bound to succeed, because they will work at it in persistent devotion.”

Back in 1884, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr. said: “As life is action and passion, it is required of a man that he should share the passion and action of his time, at the peril of being judged not to have lived.”

Do you recall the Old Testament story of Esther? She, a Jewish girl, had become queen in a land where Jews were often in disfavor. A leading prince of the realm, named Haman, laid plans for the extermination of the Jews after he had become infuriated with the Jew, Mordecai, for refusal to bow to him. Mordecai was Esther’s uncle. He saw to it that the news reached Esther’s ears. And she approached the king with skill and determination, knowing that if she failed, she would perish with all the other Jews. Before she went into the king’s presence, she asked for her people to hold a fast for her. Then she went to the king with her petition, saying to Mordecai’s messenger, “If I perish, I perish.” Fortunately, she was successful. Her people were saved and were even allowed to take vengeance on their enemies. But her success was due, not alone to her beauty, which found such favor in the king’s eyes, but to her complete commitment to the welfare of her people.

We learn (some of us) the necessity of giving ourselves to social, political and various humanitarian causes. We know that these can not be furthered without the devotion, the will and the work of earnest people. We know that the causes are not advanced by detached objectivity, but rather by loyalty and support. We know, further, that only those who will give themselves wholeheartedly to meeting of the disciplines of the various professions can achieve any kind of competency in them [also craftsmen]. We are slow to recognize that this same line of reasoning pertains to religion. There are far too many who maintain a detached attitude here.

Some years ago, the late Dr. Henry Link, writing in his book, The Return to Religion, told of the relationship which he and his wife had sustained with the church. He said: “My wife in one of the great colleges for women, and I in one of the renowned colleges for men, received the Phi Beta Kappa keys. We both profited by our education to such an extent that we became virtual agnostics. If we believed in God at all, it was the most vague and attenuated kind of belief. Certainly it had nothing to do with the church, the practices and preachings which had by this time become repugnant to us. We considered ourselves above such antics.” But when the Link children came along, the parents found themselves uncomfortable over the questions the children asked about Sunday School and church. Father and Mother began to debate whether they should, or should not, send the children along with neighboring children to church. They decided, tentatively, to let the children go, or not, as they pleased. But they were astute enough to realize that this was not a responsible position to maintain. So Dr. Link decided to make a real study of the matter. He devised a study of a couple of thousand children between the ages of 10 and 18 years. Purpose of the study was to measure the personality traits of the children, and to detect what influenced those traits. He was astounded by the discovery that the most important habit contributing to an effective personality was going to Sunday School and having parents attend church. So he and his wife took themselves off to church, even if they disliked the idea at first. But after a while they cultivated a different viewpoint about the church, and came to see it as that to which they themselves might become committed.

Every responsible person, whether parent, teacher, or scientist, knows that there is a time for objective, even detached, study. But the wiser ones among them also know that there also comes a time for choosing, for loyal devotion, for commitment. The truly great people in any craft or profession are those who are more than technically proficient. They are the folk who are dedicated to their task!

When people enter into marriage as a kind of trial run in intimate relations, it is little more than a trial to themselves and to everyone else. But when they enter into it with a sense of dedicated commitment to the will of God for them, and of a fully-accepted covenant with each other, they find renewed life and deepening love thereby.

There may be a time, in relation to religion and the church, for detached observation; for “shopping around;” a time that is comparable to the introduction and courtship before marriage. But there comes a time to stop flitting about, to settle down and let the roots of one’s life push their way deeply into the soil of continuing fellowship. Any true revival, or resurgence, of religion in our time will begin with that commitment.

Dedication, consecration, commitment -- these are the words that are written large over the door to religious experience. They are the words that describe the great epochs of our faith, from New Testament times to our own.

The scholar who revels in the richness and beauty and simplicity of the documents pertaining to the New Testament is finally led by them to the door of commitment. The careful historian of the Western world, devoting himself to objective study of tremendous periods when the Christian gospel gave history a new turn, is also led to this door. If we understand the true nature of the gospel we are led to this door, even as the disciples of old. Whether eagerly, or reluctantly, we come to a choosing when we are confronted with the Master’s own words: “I am the vine; you are the branches. ... Apart from me you can do nothing.” This is the position from which we may discern the meaning of a Christian life, a Christian society, or a Christian world. Jesus knew both the cost and the comprehensiveness of this commitment. It was central in his teaching and in his living.

When one of the learned men in religious circles asked Jesus to look over the many commandments of the Jewish faith which had been inherited from their fathers, and to single out the greatest one, Jesus went to the heart of the matter with this permanent insight: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it, you shall love your neighbor as yourself.” [Matthew 22: 36-40]. That is a tougher standard for discipleship than the creeds of men’s choosing. Who can miss the costliness of this commitment when seen in terms of Jesus’ demands? “He who loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and he who loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and he who does not take up his cross and follow me is not worthy of me. He who finds his life will lose it, and he who loses his life for my sake will find it.” [Matthew 10: 37-39].

We stand squarely upon the teachings of our Lord when we say that the Christian gospel requires commitment --- and commitment means a dedicated will, a dedicated mind, a dedicated society --- all dedicated to the proposition that people should seek first the kingdom of God, that they should endeavor to build a world wherein His will is done on earth as it is in heaven. The very word, “commitment,” means “to send together;” it is an act of (1) entrusting for safekeeping; of (2) actually doing something; of (3) pledging ourselves to do something. Paul interpreted it as meaning the cutting off of all that hinders the service of God. “One thing I do,” says he. “Forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” [Philippians 3: 13-14].

In a grove of trees in Kentucky, Harold Bosley found a number of graves near an old meeting house. A stone over one of them bore this inscription: “Here lies Nathaniel Rogers who was born in 1755. He was a member of the convention that formed the constitution of Kentucky in 1799. But what is of far more consequence, he was a member of the Church of Christ in the bosom of which he died.”

I commend to the thoughtful consideration of all members and potential members of the church here present that phrase: “But what is of far more consequence, he was a member of the Church.” Let us ponder its insight. Let us accept the privilege and responsibility of commitment. Let us find the open door of service before each of us. No one will find it, or pass through it for us; nor will anyone force us through it against our will. Each of us must choose it for himself.

The true church, wherever we find it, is the fellowship of those who have freely chosen to enter that door and who seek to find their way in His will.

Amen.

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Dates and places delivered:

Wisconsin Rapids, September 8, 1963.

Imiola Church, September 14, 1969.

Tomah (WI) Congregational Church, UCC, July 26, 1970.

Spider Lake (WI) UCC, September 13, 1970.

Immanuel United Church of Christ, Greenwood,

September 20, 1970.

Rudolph (WI) Moravian Church, October 25, 1970.

Waioli Hui’ia Church, November 14, 1971.