Sermon May 7, 2012
John 15:1-8
“I am the vine,” Jesus says. “You
are the branches.”
A
sermon on this subject should be probably preached by someone who is a good
gardener.
I
am not a good gardener.
For
most of my life I have rushed in great haste with a few extra dollars through whatever
nursery just happened to be around the corner. I would grab whatever looked
nice with no clue what to do with it.
The
one thing I did know is that plants
need water. So I watered them. At first. And then I would forget. For weeks
sometimes. And then of course they would wilt to the point they had surely
already died and I could no longer ignore them. And in a fit of massive guilt I
would rush in with the water pail to drown them back to life.
It
was a meditation on death and resurrection. But then I found out that
over-watering is just as bad as under-watering. So it became a meditation on my
inadequacies as a gardener. What’s a preacher-girl-on-the-go going to do with a
grapevine?
I’ve
decided we should use this vine as an actual
meditation. A disciplined demand to focus on the moment, an invitation for us to
let go of the anxiety of what is to come: the do I have enough money list, or
the “who am I mad at today” list; or the “what guilt is consuming me today”
list; or even just the grocery list. To take the precious time out of a sea of
passing time to embrace the “eternal now” of this one grapevine here on our
communion table, its lifeblood flowing through our cultivating, collaborating
hands. What might we learn if we notice . . . pay attention . . . wonder . . ?
With the vine. With the Jesus who says he is the “real vine.” With the God who
is the Gardener.
That
is our invitation . . .
So
let’s look at the grapevine. It has been rooted in the earth, just like us. It
has been nourished by the mist, just like us. It has been breathing in and
breathing out the very Spirit of God, just like us. It is our mirror image. This
vine that we tend at the table breathes in our exhale (carbon monoxide), and
breathes out our inhale (oxygen), in a mutually interactive Spirit-filled gift
of reciprocity. We literally cannot live without each other. When we see
ourselves as the gardener, we have to admit we depend on the grapevine.
Literally. Just as much as the Grapevine depends on the Gardener.
If God is our Gardener, does that
mean God depends on us as much as we depend on God . . ?
I’m
guessing the first century followers of Jesus did not know the periodic table
of elements and the relationship between oxygen and carbon dioxide. But they
did know that the livelihood of the gardener depended on the fruitfulness of
the grapevine. They did know that the biblical prophets spoke of God’s people
as a vineyard tended by a God who needed them to bear fruit. And they did know
that a grape could not grow separately from a branch on the vine. That a Gardening
God needed good grapes. That, in their own way, they too could not live without
each other. Literally.
Have you considered how very much
God needs you? How does this knowledge impact your faith? What does God need
from you? What do you need from God? What does God need from this congregation?
What does Madison Square need from God?
The
first century followers of Jesus also knew that a good gardener of grapevines
had to work awfully hard to grow good grapes. It was a long-term investment.
For the first few years, the vines were not even allowed to bear fruit. Their
branches were drastically cut back, leaving the plant to look almost dead. The
vine needed a chance to mature in order to bear the best fruit possible when
the time was finally right. The branches had to wait . . . and wait . . . and
wait . . . year after year thinking they were ready bloom. But the gardener made
them wait until they were really ready.
What part of you feels you are
ready to bear fruit . . . what part of you is longing to bear fruit . .
. but is on hold until the Gardener God decides you are ready? What part of you
may feel as if it has been cut back too far . . . what part of you is just
biding its time until it is ready to bloom? What about for Madison Square?
In
fact, the pruning of the branches on the grapevine was one of the most
labor-intensive tasks for the first century gardener of the grapevine. If a
branch did not bear fruit, the gardener would remove that branch from the vine.
Even if a branch did bear fruit, the
gardener would prune it back, because pruning the branches somehow produced
even more fruit. And so, at some point, every single branch was pruned. The
pruning of branches in a vineyard was about cleansing, healing, transforming,
cultivating new life. It was not a judgment per se, although it may sound that
way to us. It was just good gardening.
What part of you is no longer bearing
fruit and needs to be pruned? What part of you is still bearing fruit but
should make way for new life to grow?
Pruning
is still a scary experience. It does not seem to end well for the branches that
are pruned. “Such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned,”
Jesus says. Ouch. Do we really want this?
But
fire, if we think about it . . . is also a gift from God . . . a burning flame
of the Holy Spirit . . . a transforming grace, not a bitter end. The ashes from
the pruning become the fertilizer for the field . . . and the cycle of growth continues
. . . because with God, as with gardening . . . nothing is ever wasted.
What is there to fear in the fire?
It, too, is a gift of grace, even if it may not feel so in the moment. What is
God asking you to relinquish to the transforming flame of the Spirit? How about
for Madison Square? An interim period is a special time “set apart” to invite
the pruning grace of God into the garden of a congregation. It may feel as if
the most precious, the most fruit-bearing branches are lopped off just at their
most abundant. We may wonder if the Gardener has lost her mind . . . or at
least his sense of timing . . . In what ways is the Gardener inviting the
Madison Square garden to trust the cycles of the seasons . . . the pruning . .
. the burning . . . the new growth yet to come?
“Abide
in me,” Jesus says, “As I abide in you.” And what does it mean to “abide”? It’s
about dwelling in that place of grace. It’s about staying put there. It’s about
enduring whatever comes because you are completely and thoroughly attached to
the vine. It’s about steadfast constancy . . . never giving up . . . never
giving in . . . clinging to the vine when you have nothing else to cling to . .
. and trusting the vine to continue clinging to you.
How do you need the vine of love to
abide with you . . . to cling to you . . . to nourish you? How are you clinging
to this vine? We may think our “job” in the vineyard of God is to “bear fruit”?
But fruitfulness, according to Jesus, is the result of doing our job.
Our job is to abide in the love of God. Then the fruit will come!
The
Gardener is glorified . . . the Gardener is grateful
. . . when the branches of the grapevine bear generous fruit. The grapes are,
in many ways, the entire purpose of the garden. The best grapes come from
branches that are growing closest to the central vine . . . they have a higher
concentration of nutrients. It’s about staying connected to the source . . .
but letting that source use your gifts to the fullest extent possible. The
branches, the vine, and the Gardener do all the work . . . the grapes are the
fruit of their labor of love . . .
Perhaps you are one of those
branches that really is ready to bear fruit. In mission . . . in
stewardship . . . in music or art . . . in ministry with our children and youth
. . . in caring for the community. If you could bear just one kind of fruit on
the other side of this pruning . . . what would that fruit be?
“I
am the real vine,” Jesus says. “You are the branches. God is the Gardener.” We
are one community, abiding in love, bearing fruit for mission. Yes, there will
be pruning . . . but you have already been pruned by the message I have spoken.
Yes, there will be burning . . . but you have already been on fire with the
grace of my love . . . so now let there be fruit-bearing . . . that the world
may know the Gardener . . . one good grape at a time . . .
Because that is who you are . . .
Amen . . .
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