You are called to be friends

Sermon on John 15:9-17

Dear Friends of Jesus!

When I first went to college to study theology, it was the time of aphorisms everywhere. Maybe, it wasn’t the time but my age that made me very deceptive to those. I had cards everywhere. On my desk, at my walls, glued to my door. My friends and I sent them to each other as reminders of our love, as encouragement, and to make each other laugh. It was before Facebook and Instagram, so we still had to send cards instead of memes and posting pics online. 

Apart from scattering my room, the question was always: which cards and posters to choose for the outside of one’s door. The place everyone walks by, the first impression or a second one. It’s what your crush sees when walking by and what you want them to know about you. Basically, the old-fashioned Facebook profile. And no, I am not that old. The world has changed quickly. We are talking 2005 here.

One of my cool friends had this simple advice pinned to his door: 14You are my friends if you do what I command you. I laughed hard and said, what the… seriously? That’s hilarious. I need that.

And he said: It’s a Jesus quote. And I was like: You are kidding, right? And he just rolled his eyes at my ignorance and said, Look it up. John 15,14. I did. And to this day still believe that it’s one of the best bible verses ever. If any of you still need a favorite bible verse in your life. John 15,14 is for you.

So, I wrote it on a post-it and glued it to my door. People, you are my friends if you follow my rules. Get it? Sounds like the most universal truth to me. I like who likes me and does what I want.  Unfortunately, my friends disagree with me on this. And most of them don’t care for my commands. 

And it does become tricky once you try to apply the rule vice versa. Like, I tell you to clean my kitchen for me, but you want me to clean your kitchen since both of us hate cleaning. According to the rules, we would now both have to clean each other’s kitchen. Which would make both of us happier than cleaning our own. Because I for once are far more inclined to do unpleasant work for others and bring them joy and get a hearty Thank you than doing it for myself and nobody acknowledges it. Which doesn’t mean that you all get to call me to clean your kitchen now. Don’t get me wrong.

“Friends are our chosen family”, was another postcard in my room for years. Which was definitely true for Jesus who even called his friends his true family. I have siblings and friendlings. And luckily, my siblings are as great as my friendlings. Which really is just that, pure luck. What isn’t luck, is how amazing my friends are. How caring, how reliable, how honest. It’s not surprising because I chose them and they chose me. Not to be confused with picking. 

When thinking about how I met my best friends, it really mostly happened by coincidence. We lived next door, we shared a dorm room, we were supposed to go hiking with a common friend and that friend got sick and we went anyway. We shared a need for childcare. Or for going to concerts. Or for singing. We spent time together, shared our stories. First, the funny ones. Later, the sad ones. Talked about people who had hurt us and people who still did. 

If I'm honest, my first criteria is not whether my friends love others, but whether they love me and whether I can find it in myself to love them in return. 

At the same time, it is so that I only call 'friends' those whom I trust to share what is dearest to my heart, what is truest in my understanding --- as Jesus did with his friends. As for the choosing? I know it is so that we choose our friends, but more often than not I seem to have just come upon them. Not unlike Jesus who called the people he randomly met into friendship. 

So, Jesus said: “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. 14You are my friends if you do what I command you.”

In context, it’s less about commanding and more about. Love. Unsurprisingly at church. I know. 

What’s still surprising though is the tough verse in between. Love one another as I have loved you. Sounds good. You are my friends if you do that which is: Love one another as I have loved you. Sounds still good, easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy. 

Yet, there are strings attached. Pretty tough ones. ”No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” Love has everything to do with sacrifice. Not just for your family. But for your friends. And for your friends to be. 

Friendship is more than love, it’s commitment. Commitment to truth-telling and walking the extra mile. To caring about the pain of our friends and carrying their pain in our bones. To standing up for our friends. And to calling people friends that are different from us. That have flaws and really don’t get what’s important to us.

Because that’s what Jesus does. Jesus calls people his friends who sometimes do what he needs them to do. And who let him down when he most needed them. 

When he needed them to stay awake and face the shadows of death with him, they fell asleep. Because, hey, enough is enough, give me a break, I need to rest, too. You can’t expect me to be there for you all the time, can you?

Jesus’ answer is: Yes, I do expect that from you. And I don’t block you on Facebook when you let me down. I will give you another chance. Many more chances. I will trust you with my church even though I know you really don’t have the guts to do that work. 

And Jesus promises to be there with his friends, for his friends. Even after his death, even after his ascension into the heavens and our hearts. 

Jesus’ love for his friends is not simply our example, like a great teacher we adore. Jesus’ love for his friends is our source. Remember, at this point in the story, we are still in the room where Jesus washed his friends’ feet. Where he told the truth about how one of them will betray him so that he will die. And how another will also betray him to save himself. And still, he calls them friends. Including Judas and Peter, and all the other ones who will hurt him by falling asleep when he will need them so desperately.

The command is not to love one another. That is the purpose of everything we ought to do. It’s the purpose, not the command. Jesus commands these things in today’s Gospel. Which is highly unspecific until you think back of where he is while talking. Still in the upper room, eating his very last dinner with his friends, preparing them for the painful times to come. By telling them, that they are his friends. No matter what they do in those next days. And that whatever they do shall be not just grounded in love. The loving intention isn’t enough. 

It’s a good start, but not enough. What really matters is the impact. Love ought to be the purpose of all we do as friends and as the ones Jesus calls friends. 

And the purpose is not just a great intention. It’s caring about the impact. It’s acknowledging that sometimes words spoken in love can really hurt and that the excuse “I meant well” or “I didn’t mean it” is just an excuse but no apology. And definitely no restoration or even acknowledgment of the pain caused. 

Jesus calls his followers friends. All of us. Which doesn’t only describe the relationship between us and Jesus. It also impacts how we see each other. And it ultimately means: Your friends are my friends, and my friends are your friends. Jesus’ friends are my friends, and my friends are Jesus’ friends. And that includes everybody, if you think about it.

Much of the time — I’ll be honest — I don’t want that kind of inclusion.  I want to be safe.  I want to keep my circle small and manageable.  I want to choose the people I love based on my own affinities and preferences — not on Jesus’ all-inclusive partisanship. Because hearing the truth from people who disagree with me isn’t as fun as celebrating in unity together. Love in silence without arguments is easy. Love among friends who share what’s on their hearts and souls is tough. Love among friends who disagree is tiring. Being friends with all the people Jesus loves is almost impossible. But just almost….

Amen.