January 29, 2006 Sermon

Branches
John 15:1-11

In the cold months each year they prune the vineyards. Workers walk along the rows carrying sharp, hooked knives. They examine each vine. Which tendrils, which branches should go? Which should stay? They make their selections and make their cuts, then toss the cullings into the lanes between the rows. Later other workers will come along, gather the brush, throw it into piles well away from the living vines, and burn them. This process has not changed for thousands of years.

Jesus used the pruning of vineyards to make a crucial point about our relationship with him, and with God the Father. His listeners knew the work. They all understood that branches likely to bear more fruit stay; barren branches go. Meanwhile, the central "trunk" of the grapevine grows thicker and its roots grow deeper with each passing year. Linda and I lived for a time in a wine-producing valley in Northern California . The vineyards there had 50- and 60-year-old vines. Their gnarled, twisted trunks looked petrified in the winter, impossibly lifeless. But come spring out would shoot the new growth. And by August the wires holding up the clusters of grapes would sag against their posts, so heavy had the crop become.

Jesus leaves no doubt as to how to interpret his image. He is the vine; we are the branches. He is central and eternal; we are peripheral and temporary. Yet we bear fruit. He expects us to, or he will prune us. Jesus expects us to tap into him in order to grow the love of God. We are but branches, but we are part of God's plan for producing the Kingdom. Be a branch. Bear fruit.

Jesus' words about vines and branches come from what scholars call his "Farewell Discourse". We have these words only in the Gospel of John. The other three Gospels focus more on actions, on what Jesus did, and what others did to Jesus. John contains great stretches of Jesus' words: prayers, sermons and this long goodbye. When people feel moved to speak before they leave (no matter where they're going), they generally feel they have something important to say. So it goes with our passage.

"I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinegrower," Jesus begins. Moving ahead three verses he adds, "Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, neither can you unless you abide in me." The Russian River valley of Northern California produces several of the world's most-celebrated wines. But it typically does not rain there from May until October the season when grapevines actually have leaves and fruit on them. How do they manage? The central taproot of a grapevine can shoot straight down to surprising depths. It finds the level beneath the surface where moisture never disappears.

In the same way, Jesus tells us, sink your roots into me. Tap into my spiritual power. That spirit never dries up. If we "abide" or live in Him, we never run spiritually empty. With Jesus' Spirit we can do miraculous things; without it, he tells us, we can do nothing. We abide in the power of Jesus' Spirit primarily through prayer, but also through worship and fellowship together as the people of God. Exercise your faith and you tap into the spiritual power Jesus offers. Be a branch. Bear fruit.

Before moving to California and learning a little about winemaking, I assumed that red grapes made red wine and green grapes made white wine. Actually, red grapes make almost all wine, red and white. The wine master just leaves the skins of the red grapes in the mix for only a very short time in the making of white wine. In the same way, only Jesus can make a Christian. No other source, no other color, no other god works.

Jesus drives home this point. "If my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples." So we can ask for and get anything. But once we enter the process of bearing fruit in Christ we have entered the process of becoming his disciples. This means we will ask only for those things that please God.

I would like nothing better than to own property overlooking the Bay. I would not care if it were in Leelanau Country or on the Peninsula. I might even plant a small vineyard. But I do not pray for this. Clearly God has more pressing matters to attend to than whether I own view property. We all understand this obvious example. But do we truly abide in Christ in all ways, all the time? Or do we occasionally pray for things that do not glorify God? Mark Twain famously wrote a short story showing how praying for victory in war meant praying for the mutilation of the other side's young men. What do you pray for that does not please God? Where are you not abiding in Jesus?

On the positive side, we can pray for anything in the spirit of Christ and receive it. Peace springs to mind: peace of mind, peace in marriage, peace with children and parents, peace in the church. Forgiveness would fit, too, as would mercy, love and so forth. Abide in Jesus. Pray for those things fit for a disciple to ask. Be a branch. Bear fruit.

This talk of peace and mercy and whatnot might seem a tad optimistic. Many of us pray for peace in our families but do not experience it. Many of us have prayed for peace in our nation, in Israel and Palestine, in Iraq and now Iran, but it does not happen. What then can we do with Jesus' comment that if we pray and abide in him we will know the love of the Father? "I have said these things to you," he concludes, "that my joy in you might be complete, and that your joy might be complete." Is this all too good to be true?

When the Hebrews returned to the Promised Land after their centuries-long exile as slaves in Egypt they immediately planted vineyards. The job of ridding the land of enemies would take centuries longer. Vines do not produce useful grapes for years. Invaders could and would easily destroy any vineyard they overran. Yet despite all these excellent reasons not to waste their time planting vineyards, the Hebrews did. And they did it explicitly as a sign of their confidence that the Lord would eventually bear fruit in and through them.

We need to take the long view. We need to have faith that in God's time, which often bears no resemblance to our timetables, our abiding in Jesus will produce fruit. And that fruit will produce joy.

My brother and I had a little disagreement in a recent telephone conversation. His politics and mine have grown apart over the years. Normally we stay away from the topic, but this time he made me mad with a crack about a public figure I support and I joined battle with him. He has lived a more, shall we say, European life. After a few minutes of useless arguing he said something about how typically American I am. He meant that I am optimistic things will work out, whereas people in places that have experienced endless wars develop a cynical, even fatalistic, attitude.

Something kept me from snapping off a zinging reply. Instead I thought for a moment and from someplace came this answer: No, my attitude is not so much American as it is Christian. I have the Judeo-Christian faith that ultimately God will have His way.

Nobody has suffered more than the Jews of the Bible yet they planted their vineyards. Where do you need to plant your vineyard? With whom do you need to plant your vineyard? Be a branch. Bear fruit. Keep faith that ultimately God will produce through you.