Fifth Sunday of Easter (sermon text)
Scriptures: Acts 8:26-40, Psalm 22:25-31, 1 John 4:7-21, John 15:1-8
Fruit of the True Vine
If you were a tree, what sort of tree would you be? You might have heard this question before. Years ago, when I was a teacher, I used to coach students on interview skills, and I’d throw this question at nervous students to help them laugh a little and loosen up. It’s sort of silly, and I’m not sure that there’s a good or bad answer to it, though I always thought it was interesting when someone said, “I’d be a fruit tree, so I could help feed other people.”
Today’s Gospel reading is from a larger, key scene in the book of John, chapters 14-17, which is known as “Jesus’ farewell discourse.” It begins after Judas leaves to betray him, and in it, he begins preparing the 11 remaining disciples, mentally and spiritually, for the crucifixion that only he truly knows is ahead of him. Earlier, head had washed their feet, and beginning in chapter 14, he talks about his relationship with God, and promises them his peace… then comes this passage in chapter 15.
Vines, fruit, fire, abiding, discipleship. Even read as part of the larger story, this passage can seem like an abrupt shift in tone, from comfort and promise to threat and punishment. Of course, that’s not what Jesus is doing. Jesus is describing the reality his disciples will face, after he is gone in body but with them in abiding presence, as Christ is with us even today. He’s preparing them for a lifetime as followers of God through him – through Christ alone – and not through any nationality, sect, or human institution – and these words are true for us as well.
When my son turned two, one of my aunts bought a young apple tree for him, and came from Kenucky with my uncle to plant it in our backyard. It’s beautiful, something called an espalier, with three different types of apples grafted together, and I was pretty sure I’d kill it within a few months. I’m a bit in awe of people who successfully care for plants, from gardeners to farmers: I don’t exactly have a green thumb, and I’m much better at clearing a patch of soil than I am planting and tending it.
Nevertheless, the tree survived an insect infestation and my inexpert pruning. It was dormant over the winter, and with all the rain we had in the spring, it budded beautifully. New shoots seemed to spring out overnight, with a little blossom growing at the end of each one. My son enjoyed pretending that each tiny flower was already an apple, and he’d pick the imaginary fruit to eat and share.
As you may know, my family recently moved houses, and last week, my aunt and uncle visited again, to move the growing tree. It was pretty easy, since the roots hadn’t grown out very much. After we had replanted the tree in our new backyard, my aunt brought out her pruning shears.
What came next was a little strange to me. She cut off quite a few of the blossoming shoots, focusing on the ones that reached straight upwards. Last year, when the tree had an infestation, I didn’t hesitate to prune back the damaged limbs, but it was a little unnerving to watch her snip what seemed to my eyes like healthy parts of the tree.
And watching her work, expert gardener that she is, gave me a better understanding of this week’s gospel reading. I know that some of you out there are gardeners and farmers, and I’m preaching to the choir when I talk about pruning. For all of us, expert or beginner alike, beginning to understand Jesus’ words here requires a grounding in both horticulture and history, but their meaning – of course – is deeper still.
Jesus is speaking about growth. What my aunt was doing for the tree was ensuring its healthy growth. Not even considering the shock of being replanted, most of those shoots would have taken vital nutrients from other parts of the tree that will ultimately bear fruit, in due course.
Human beings are – obviously – very different from plants. Cutting off the right part of a plant can make it even healthier. Cutting off any part of a human is, generally, not going to make us healthier, and our knee-jerk reaction to the mere thought is “ouch.”
If you were a tree, what sort of tree would you be? Can you imagine yourself as – not a tree – but a branch on a vine? There you are, stuck to a larger branch. Utterly dependent on your connection to the larger branch, so much so that if there is a cut, you will fall to the ground, and wither.
It’s a frightening thought, isn’t it? Yet in today’s reading, Jesus is using this very image to offer comfort to his disciples! Something we need to keep in mind as we read this: in the Hebrew scriptures, the image of a fruit-bearing branch is pretty common. In the book of Jeremiah, King David is a “righteous branch” of God. In Ezekiel, the branch is King Zedekiah. In Isaiah, Israel itself is the branch, sprouting from God. The list goes on.
The disciples are themselves Jewish people. Up until now, they’ve understood themselves to be “people of God” by virtue of their nationality. Their branch is grafted to their nation, so to speak. They follow Yaweh, as did their ancestors from the creation of the world, to the establishment of the covenants, to the exodus, First Temple, exile, and the life they knew in first-century Palestine, under Roman occupation, but still Jewish. The Romans, of course, had their own religion, and though some were curious about the Jewish god, they were loyal to the emperor, who called himself a son of God.
So that’s some of what’s going on in the minds of the disciples, as they’re listening to Jesus talk about vines, fruit, fire, abiding, and discipleship. They have already witnessed Jesus perform miracles and clash with the priests and scribes; they know that Jesus is doing something new and big within their society, and perhaps they hope it will lead to freedom from Rome, as some did.
They’re also afraid, though, as they begin to realize that they are utterly dependent on Jesus as their teacher, or “master.” More than once, he has spoken about going away, and without him, what’s left? They’re a small group of women and men in a small, occupied country.
Their branch seems to hang on very little indeed.
With the image of a vine, Jesus names and claims the disciples as his own. God is the gardener, Jesus is the vine, you are the branches. The disciples are no longer grafted onto anything that God created, but to the very creator – to God, through Jesus. That’s actually pretty comforting. Dependence on God, through Christ.
So what about pruning and fires? Again, I say that Jesus is describing what the disciples will experience after the crucifixion, and not offering them – or us – a way to cast judgment on anyone else. It’s difficult when we ourselves struggle, but it’s heartbreaking to see someone we love struggle. The disciples will not be cut off from God, but they will lose their immediate communities, and perhaps even their families, because they follow the new way of Christ.
Nobody is going to be celebrating when a vine is cut off, or when they burn. Who’s the gardener? It’s God. What’s God doing in the lives of those who are cut off? I don’t know, but I don’t think their story ends in the sort of flames we might imagine, or fear, and here’s where the metaphor breaks down entirely.
There’s not a lot one branch can do to help another. Jesus himself, immediately after painting this metaphor, says this: “As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love. If you keep my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commands and remain in his love. I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete. My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (verses 9-13).
On the one hand, we’re fully reliant on God, through Jesus. On the other, the fruit we bear is – explicitly – love lived out in the manner of Jesus: the act of self-emptying, self-giving benevolence for others.
If you were a tree, what sort of tree would you be? I’d like to be a fruit-bearing disciple. With Christ’s life as our example, and Christ’s true presence in our lives, let’s bear that fruit, together, as a community. Let’s witness to our Lord by how we serve. As the seasons change, and as we learn what it means to be a community of disciples in a world changed by the pandemic, and still rocked by fear, let’s keep Christ’s peace in our hearts, trusting that we are branches of the true vine. Keep your eyes and ears open for opportunities in the now, to show Christ’s love through your actions.
-Pastor Will Bevins