John 15:1-8 ”I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinegrower. He
removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit
he prunes to make it bear more fruit. You have already been cleansed by the
word that I have spoken to you. Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the
branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can
you unless you abide in me. I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who
abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do
nothing. Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers;
such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned. If you abide in
me, and 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.
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It’s in our nature to become
attached. We get attached to people and
things, ideas and habits.
It’s not even just humans who
become attached. One of the classic
studies you learn in the psychology of development is about baby ducks. Newborn ducks and geese become attached –
hard-wired attached – to the first moving creature they lay their eyes on after
birth. Normally, it’s their mother, but
they can inadvertently get attached to something or someone else.
It’s been studied extensively in
human development – the psychology of attachment. It explains why toddlers go through that
period when they cry so hard every time Mom leaves them. Even though they never did it before,
suddenly they just fall apart when Mom leaves the room. It’s because now they are aware that this
person they are fully dependent on is walking away and might never come
back. They cling to Mom as if it were a
life and death matter.
And for the rest of our lives we
continue to make attachments, because it’s in our nature to attach. It’s one of the ways we most clearly see that
we are social animals. In the beginning,
according to the book of Genesis, God could see that it was not good for the
man to be alone. Adam needed a
companion, so God created one for him.
We make attachments and we break
them – and some attachments are healthy and others are unhealthy … even destructive. Breaking attachments usually is very painful
because it’s like losing a part of yourself.
Nonetheless, some attachments should be broken.
There’s a song by The Avett
Brothers that begins, “I was scared but couldn’t admit it; each root planted
out of fear.” Part of growing up is
figuring out your attachments – the good ones and the bad ones and letting go
of the bad ones. Actually, even when we
grow up we still struggle with this; we still sometimes make attachments that
are unhealthy. And one of the reasons we
make and keep these bad attachments is fear.
Fear can keep us clinging to
someone or something that is preventing us from growing. Bad relationships, bad habits, even bad
beliefs we might cling to out of fear, just because it’s what we know.
And I think about attachments, both
good and bad, healthy and unhealthy, as I think about these words from John’s
gospel: “I am the vine and you are the
branches. Those who abide in me and I in
them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing.”
And he continues, telling us that
there will be pruning, because pruning is good for us, whether we like it or
not. Gardeners know that good pruning
will promote fuller growth and fruitfulness.
And he goes on to tell us that
those who do not abide in him are useless, dead branches that will be thrown
into the fire, because that’s all they are good for. He is the life source. Apart from him there is nothing.
And I think about how pruning is
painful, asking us to part with some things and relationships and ideas that
are dear to us but, ultimately, harmful to us.
If we will stay attached to the vine that is our source of life, we will
have to let go of some of the attachments that do more harm than good.
And say goodbye to old selfish ways
of thinking and being in the world: letting go of old prejudices that tell us
some people are inherently less worthy than others – because there is no way
that kind of thinking can co-exist with the life of the vine. Turning away from addictions – those things
that take on a god-like status for us, becoming more important than anyone or
anything else because we need them too much to even think straight.
And I know how incredibly hard it
is to submit to the pruning, the letting go of attachments to comforts and
rigid ideas and hatreds – yes, hatreds, because they have served us well. We learn from an early age to divide the
world into us and them, those we can trust and those we cannot, those who think
and speak and act the way we do and those who do not, those who have had the
same experiences as us and those whose experience of life is completely foreign
to us. We have learned to divide and to
hate because these things have served us well; they have kept us safe. But ultimately, they serve us badly, and we
are asked to give it up, all for the love of the vine. All for the love of the vine, because apart
from him we can do nothing, apart from him we are nothing.
And I wonder: even though I know
it’s essential, even though I know the truth of what he says, how can I
possibly abide in the vine so fully that all the bad growth falls away? John says perfect love casts out fear, and by
this I know how far I still am from perfect love.
Like little children, we attach to
things. Like baby ducks and geese, we
sometimes blindly follow whatever it is that moves. But one day we face the truth that if we
really want life in all its fullness we have to let go of the things that hold
us back. And we feel like the trapeze
artist in mid air who has to let go of one swing to take hold of the next one –
there is the possibility of falling.
Out there among all the things you
can grab onto, there is the true vine.
The one who asks you to abide in him and to allow his words to abide in
you because in him you can bear much fruit but apart from him you can do
nothing. And, yes, it involves
pruning. Pruning is always necessary for
good fruit.
He asks us to let go of the
judgments that promote hate and death and to abide in him to grow in love and
compassion. Love one another even when
the loving is hard. Especially when the
loving is hard.
He asks us to let go of fear that
prevents us from growing in love – the kind of love that shows itself in truth
and action, as John says.
I know that this is a tall
order. I know that it is asking a
lot. No one of us can change the world
and make it a more loving place. But each
one of us can take care of our own tiny branch – that’s all. Tend to your own
pruning, casting off the bad growths as you are able. Each one of us can draw on the strength of
the vine to give us courage and wisdom to do the pruning we need to do. He assures us that when we abide in him and
his words abide in us we can ask for whatever we wish. If we are abiding in him and he is abiding in
us, our wishes will not be for a Mercedes Benz.
And together we can take care of
this larger branch, our church. We can
discern what pruning is necessary and draw strength from the vine and from one
another for the hard work. It’s what we
are here for – the pruning, the growing, the fruit-bearing. The abiding in the vine makes it all
possible.
And apart from him we can do
nothing.
I know we can’t change the
world. All we can do is tend to our own
twigs and branches. So let us each do
that. Let us abide in the vine, for in
him is life, in him is the power of love, in him is the glory of God.
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