SIXTH SUNDAY OF EASTER, YEAR A

May 14, 2023

Christ Episcopal Church, Woodbury, N. J.

 

 

John 15:1-8

In the Gospel according to John, Jesus uses some vivid images to describe himself. “I am the bread of life.” “I am the light of the world.” “I am the Good Shepherd.” But of all these images, none conveys the sheer intimacy, the mutual indwelling, between Christ and the members of his Church as effectively as that from today’s Gospel: “I am the vine, you are the branches.”

 

And Jesus makes three points about the vine and the branches. First, to stay alive, the branches must remain connected to the vine. Second, the branches must bear fruit. And, third, in order to bear the maximum amount of fruit, the branches must be pruned. Let’s look at each of these three points in turn. 

 

First, the branches must abide in the vine. Under the hot Middle Eastern sun, a branch that gets cut off withers and dies in a matter of minutes. In the same way, we must remain connected to Jesus as the source of our life.

 

But this connection is not an individual matter. In a grapevine, all the branches run together—interweaving, intertwining, and encircling one another until they’re almost indistinguishable.

 

So, to abide in Christ means to be a member of the Church. And this image of the vine and its branches depicts the Church as an organism of inter‑connected and interdependent members, with Christ the source of their life, strength, and fruitfulness.

 

As Christians we abide in Christ first and foremost by our faithful participation in the worshipping community. Just as the branches draw their vitality and strength from the vine, so we draw our sustenance and nourishment from the grace of Word and Sacrament that flows to us through our participation in the Church’s worship.

 

The second point is that the branches must bear fruit. They can’t just sop up nutrients from the vine just to hang on and stay alive. They’re expected to flower and be productive.

 

I once came across the following description of how a grapevine grows through the different seasons of the year:

 

“In winter the vine is pruned back to its main, twisted vine stock. The main stock often appears gnarled and strong. In spring, the vine is transformed into a hub of activity. New branches and new shoots spring from the vine with incredible speed and energy. The new shoots of the vine can grow several feet in a period of a few weeks. The image is one of vitality and energy . . .

 

“As summer turns to autumn and the fruit begins to ripen, the vine becomes heavy with grape clusters hanging in the sun. The form of the grape clusters, their color and very number convey a powerful image of life and fruitfulness.”

 

Our Catholic Christian spiritual tradition has always maintained that the primary test of our spiritual life is the fruit that it brings forth in our lives.

 

This fruit can take many different forms: calling someone you haven’t seen at church for a while, taking a casserole to a house where someone is sick, or inviting a lonely person to dinner. Again, the fruit we bring forth may be simply doing our best to fulfill cheerfully the routines of our daily responsibilities: getting to work on time, showing up for our appointments, completing our assignments, cleaning up after dinner, paying the bills.

 

But in the deepest sense of all, the fruit of our relationship with Christ manifests itself in the type of people we become, as reflected in the attitudes, dispositions, and virtues that mark the development of our character over the years. The fruit of the Spirit, says St. Paul in his Letter to the Galatians, is “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, fidelity, gentleness, and self-control.” By nurturing our vital union with Christ in his Church, we gradually bring forth this fruit in our lives.

 

The third point, however, is that in order to bring forth the most fruit possible, the branches must be pruned. To maximize the yield from a grapevine, the vinedresser is continually cutting off dead and unproductive branches to channel the vine’s life towards the developing grapes.

 

Pruning can be a deceptive operation. A couple of years ago, in my previous parish, the Buildings and Grounds Committee cut some hedges on the church property down from a height of around eight or nine feet down to around three or four feet. Most of the leafy parts of the branches were cut away, leaving only sorry-looking clumps of bare sticks poking in the air with almost no green left. Several people were distressed and angry, and accused us of killing the hedges. But within a month or so, the branches had sprouted hundreds of shoots studded with thousands of buds of new leaves. And so, as a result of this pruning, the hedge ultimately grew healthier, thicker, and greener than ever.

 

If branches could feel pain, however, they’d find pruning quite a painful operation. And if they could think, they’d probably ask: “Why is this happening to me? I haven’t done anything wrong. I don’t deserve this.” What the branches don’t realize is that ultimately the pruning strengthens them and makes them even more productive and fruitful than before.

 

Likewise, in our lives there may well be times when we feel like we’re being cut back and pruned – and it hurts! But whatever setbacks or pain we may suffer, in the end we too emerge strengthened and fortified, provided that we maintain our vital union with Christ in the fellowship of his Body, nourished and sustained by the grace of his Sacraments.

 

So, this morning, we’re invited each of us to abide in Christ specifically by renewing our commitment to the life and worship of this parish. Christ is the vine and we are the branches; and if we abide in him, then we shall continue to bear good fruit in his Name, in the weeks, months, and years to come.