“Those who abide in me and I in them bear
much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing.” (John 15:5)
Have you seen this thing on NBC called Rise? I have to say: every once in a
while NBC gets it right. They’re a TV network that has done some super stinkers
in the past. I’m thinking of Super Train,
The Book of Daniel, and a show that I actually appeared in back in my show
biz days called Something Is Out There, a
crime drama-science fiction hybrid that was so awful I think it was cancelled
before the first commercial break. But this show Rise is actually really good.
Rise is about a small
town in Pennsylvania and a well-meaning English teacher who takes over the high
school drama program. It’s got all the elements of the realistic drama faced by
Middle America. There’s the deeply-slashed public school budget, the kid who
comes out as transgender, the couple getting divorced, the overstressed teens,
the pregnant teen, the beleaguered single mom, the kid with a drinking problem,
the Muslim immigrant who has to keep a low profile, the polarized community,
etc.
Of course, you might wonder why would any
of us, facing all the stress our own lives throw at us, think it would be
relaxing or entertaining to watch a story about other people facing real-life
problems? I think it’s because we want to know that we are not alone in our own
difficulties. We need to know that someone—maybe even some Hollywood TV writer—has
figured it out that life is hard for all of us. Maybe we want to know that our
troubles are not just our own, but they have a universal quality to them, that
our sufferings—however great or small—are part of something mythic and human.
I’ve been pastor of Faith Lutheran of
Philadelphia for almost twenty years, and I think I could (if it didn’t violate
my call to confidentiality) write my own NBC drama from the struggles I’ve seen
in my own parishioners during that time. As I look out at our congregation from
behind the altar every Sunday I know that there’s a lot of hurt in the room.
There have been worries over jobs and finances, fears for our kids, and myriad
health issues—cancers, surgeries, and orthopedic problems. There have been
losses which have seemed impossible to get past. There have been divorces and
multi-custodial child-care situations. There have been the ongoing worries over
the care of aging parents. There have been some outrageous emotional health
issues. And there’s the inescapable truth that none of us is getting any
younger. We are all facing the loss of our hearing and eyesight and mobility
and friends.
As a pastor called to minister to the wider
community beyond my church, I’ve presided at the gravesides of those who have
died in auto accidents, by suicide, from drug overdoses, and those who have
been brutally murdered. I’ve seen a LOT of hurt.
How do we handle it?
We abide in Jesus. We live—make our home—in
Christ’s reality. It’s about claiming the cross of Jesus for ourselves. In the
cross is every pain we will ever suffer: abandonment, betrayal, disappointment,
helplessness, physical pain, shame, and loneliness. We are called to look to
the cross and realize that even from that horrendous place Jesus bore fruit. He
did the work of the Father. He spread compassion to his fellow sufferer,
created relationship between his mother and the disciple, forgave those who
tormented him, and proclaimed faith in God. “Father,” he said, “into your hands
I commend my spirit.”
A vine can live if a branch is cut off,
but a branch cannot live without the vine. Perhaps if we’re willing to see
ourselves in Jesus, we can have the faith to see Jesus in ourselves.
Keep bearing fruit, my dears. Thanks for
spending this time with me.
PS –
If you haven’t seen Rise, you may want to check out an episode. It’s
pretty good. Just click on Rise
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