Vines and Branches

Rev. Kristi Denham
Congregational Church of Belmont
May 10, 2009

According to Josephus, a first century Jewish historian and the only independent source (besides the gospels) for the existence of the historical Jesus, the entrance to the Temple in Jerusalem, before it was destroyed in 70 C.E., was decorated with archways designed in gold and covered in golden grape vines and large grape clusters as tall as human beings.

The prophet Jeremiah described the people of Israel as the vine-stock that God brought out of Egypt that had been ravaged by the Babylonian captivity.  Isaiah, Hosea, Ezekiel and the Psalms all use the image of the grape vine for Israel and the vinedresser for God who tends and prunes the plants to provide fruit and wine for all the people.

In John’s gospel this metaphor is revisited and expanded. Now the vine-stock has received new branches grafted onto the ancient plants.  This represents the gentiles who have become followers of Jesus.

And instead of the people of Israel being described as the essential vine from which the branches grow, now Jesus is the one true vine and all his disciples, from whatever background, are the branches.

Written sometime between 80 and 115 C.E., John’s gospel is so different from the other three earlier gospels that it almost didn’t make it into the official canon. Like the Gospel According to Thomas, written during the same period, it was considered too different and too Gnostic, or spiritual and abstract, to be included.

John’s gospel contains no parables, and no short wisdom sayings. Instead, Jesus speaks in long poetic and theological discourses.

John’s is the most spiritual of the gospels. Jesus is most purely described as the perfect son of God.

He encounters characters, like Nicodemus and the Woman at the Well, found in no other gospel.

And John’s attitude toward “the Jews” is most problematic considering Jesus was born, lived and died as a Jew. 

Sometimes I find the dualism and “us against them” descriptions in the gospel impossible to reconcile with my faith in a God of love. These passages reflect the circumstances at the end of the first century when the Temple had been destroyed and those who believed in Jesus were being persecuted and thrown out of the synagogues. The conflict was intense and difficult in the extreme.

But the mystical understanding of how one might best live out a relationship with the divine seems to find its most eloquent voice in John’s gospel. And this particular passage has long been my very favorite. When I was ordained I chose it as the scripture lesson, and again when I was installed as your pastor almost ten years ago.

“I am the vine, you are the branches. If you abide in me and I in you, you bear much fruit. But apart from me you can do nothing.”

There are so many levels of meaning in this passage and all of them are metaphorical. Even the most literal readers know we aren’t actually grapevines and branches.

If I knew more about gardening I’d be able to explain how best to tend and encourage the growth of vine-stock and how to graft new varieties onto the old to improve the quality of the grapes.

John’s community would have been familiar with the process. They would have known that pruning was called cleansing and was essential to the strength of the plant.

Knowing that plants require pruning has always been comforting to me. I realize there are qualities in my personality, patterns of behavior or reactions born of difficult or easy times that do not serve my best intentions. Habits need changing. Attitudes can use adjusting. Reactions need to be examined and sometimes need addressing. I can make amends for my mistakes. I can ask forgiveness. I can change. And in letting go of old ways, I can become stronger. I can bear more fruit, better fruit. There is always this hope, this process of maturing. I can produce good wine, better wine, over time. This is good news!

And how do I do this? I abide in the vine.

Where do you abide?

We don’t use that word “abide” very often but if and when we do, we are talking about where we live, where we put down roots, where we find ourselves most at home.

John suggests to his late first century community that they are called to come together to abide in Jesus. What does that mean for us?

Today is Mothers Day. Did you know that there are many references, especially by medieval church theologians, to Jesus as our Mother? I even wrote a term paper on the subject for my seminary class on Church History.

If Jesus were our mother then at some point we were all abiding in him in utero. Can you imagine yourself inside his mothering belly? No? Okay, maybe I’m carrying the image too far, but…

Let’s go back to the vine-stock and branches image again. Imagine yourself  rooted in the ground and sending out branches, producing fruit. You have touched the lives of all the people around you. Some of you have literally mothered children. All of you have nurtured others by your words and deeds.

If the Spirit of the living Christ, which has been poured out on all flesh, lives in you, then you abide in Christ and Christ abides in you. As you rest in the presence and power of that Spirit, you send out vines and branches and cultivate fruit that nurtures all of us in this community.

Anyone who tends a garden knows that it is an ecosystem that can be widely damaged by an invasion of aphids or other forms of blight. Vineyards can be devastated by frost or early rains. Vine growers must cultivate and protect their crops. And they need the help of their workers to bring the grapes to harvest.

A community of faith is something like a garden. We need to care for one another and constantly be aware that new branches, grafted onto the old, will make us stronger and help us to thrive. We must welcome the creativity of new perspectives. We must reach out to the wider world to see how we might be challenged to grow and meet new needs.

And we must remember to abide in the love of God that is the very root and stock of all our efforts.

“Apart from God we do nothing….Apart from God we can do nothing.”

When I remember that, I remember to turn to the deeper wisdom that abides in me. I remember to listen, to act with patience and compassion. I remember the challenge to live out a call to justice. I find the courage to act with radical concern for those who are struggling. I am able to forgive and forget the human frailties I may see in others, knowing they are working to do the same for me.

To abide in the Spirit of the Christ is to breathe deeply the breath of life.

“I am the vine. You are the branches. Abide in me as I abide in you. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit because apart form me you can do nothing.”

I see a vineyard here. Imagine your vine-stock going deep into the earth. Imagine your arms, your branches spread out wide and touching and entwining the arms and branches of your neighbors. The pews are rows upon rows in the vineyard. Together we are nurtured and watered by God’s love. And we breathe in the sunshine of that love and nurture one another with our presence and our own growth.

Our Father, Our Mother God is glorified, celebrated, honored by our growth. Just as a parent is incredibly proud to see their children succeed, so God is proud of us. When we do good, when we learn and grow, when we follow the challenging teachings of Jesus and are his disciples, God smiles.

And as we look around at one another and acknowledge the challenges we have already faced, the conflicts already overcome, the accomplishments each of us has made to become who we are today, not only does God smile from on high, but the God Spirit inside you and in each one of us, smiles. That smile inside is home. Abide in that place, that peace, that is God’s home within you.

And recognize it in one another. You are all bearing fruit. Acknowledge what has already been accomplished. Abide in that love. Then go and love some more!