Supermoons, Loving and Bearing Fruit
John 15:9–17
As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love. I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete.
‘This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you. I do not call you servants any longer, because the servant does not know what the master is doing; but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father. You did not choose me but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last, so that the Father will give you whatever you ask him in my name. I am giving you these commands so that you may love one another.
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In late April here in the northern hemisphere a “supermoon” appeared in the evening sky. This phenomenon occurs when at full stage, the moon makes its closest pass by the earth, making it appear to be significantly larger. The moon is always the same size of course, but on such nights when the sky is clear we do actually get to see it in a way that might just alter our perspective.
I recall an experience some years ago which altered the perspective of the words of Jesus today about lovingly “laying down one’s life for one’s friends” and bearing “fruit that will last.” There was not anything dramatic in what I witnessed, but I have not forgotten its impact.
This experienced occurred during a visit to a nursing home to see a faithful lady from the congregation who a few months earlier had made the move there after a short hospitalization. What I encountered that afternoon was a demonstration of love, yet something different than any other similar visit. I am always reminded of the love demonstrated for residents hour after hour, day after day by staff. On this day what I encountered was the self-giving love between residents.
As I made my way down a long hallway, I found Mabel sitting in her wheelchair in the doorway to her room. After greeting and exchanging niceties, she told me she was sitting in this spot because it was “her place” which allowed her to see who was coming and going.
There was a bit of irony in her words because Mabel could not see much anymore and for that matter, her hearing was failing, too. It seemed, too, that her entire physical being had been diminished by various illnesses and ailments. This was not always so, of course. Mabel had been a vital part of the church for decades, always willing to give of herself to benefit others and extend our mission as a congregation. At times she could be a force all her own.
As we visited, I glanced into her room, noticing plaques and awards she received for her service in the community alongside photographs of grandchildren and great grandchildren. Mabel did not talk about the awards though. The children were the subject of joy in our conversation.
As the minutes went by and I stood by her in the doorway, she greeted the people going by, nodding, and calling many by name. Then, since dinner hour was approaching, she asked if I would wheel her down the hall to the dining room.
As we rolled along Mabel told me that normally at this time of day she would be playing cards with others. And she said that since she cannot see so well anymore, a friend from down the hall sits next to her and helps her play her hand. “We win some and we lose some,” she said, “but it really doesn’t much matter.” I was surprised to find her tone was not one of resignation. Instead, she spoke with a kind of bemused contentment. For her, the point was no longer the game itself, but the friends sitting next to her.
Perhaps she was always this way, although I have to wonder. Certainly, at some point in her life winning and losing must have mattered to her. But no more. By now time and age and disease had whittled her world down to what is really essential. She has been blessed to see the “supermoon” in a way perhaps she could not before.
I thought of this as I was considering Jesus’ words in today’s reading about bearing fruit and giving of yourself. To be sure, “laying down one’s life for one’s friends” sounds dramatic and profound. But perhaps it is also as simple as helping another to play a hand of cards when her senses do not allow her to do what she once would have done with ample command. To help someone play a hand of cards does not sound like “bearing fruit” but perhaps its precisely the fulfillment of the loving promise Jesus made when he said: “I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit.” John 15:5 “You are my friends if you do what I command you.”
Helping Mabel play her cards, afternoon after afternoon does not bear the sort of fruit the world might measure and acknowledge. But it is fruit, all the same. The sort that builds up, yet one many would rather ignore or avoid. It is the sort that stands still in the presence of and loves in simple and profound ways one whom the world would hardly count any more.
This is precisely what Jesus did over and over again in his ministry. Whether it was the hemorrhaging woman or the man born blind or a group of lepers who had been cut off from the world as they had known it, over and over again, Jesus’ gifts were known in amazing ways in the most unlikely of places among often the most unsavory of people. Even at the end we hear him making astounding promises to the thief who hung dying next to him. Jesus, who calls us friends, would have us do the same, it seems to me.
Now I know my story of a nursing home visit may seem to be a small thing, but that half an hour with one who had learned so deeply and well the lessons of what matters most has stayed with me. Maybe it is the “fruit that will last” of which Jesus spoke. What has also stayed with me is the image of the fruiter bearer, Mabel’s nursing home neighbor and friend playing her hand of cards day after day. Win or lose, because of her Mabel always had a place at the table, too.
