Lectionary Year B, Fifth Sunday of Easter
Text: John 15:1-8
Introduction
This
week, I learned how the word “Op-Ed” originated and what it means. First, the
word is younger than I am, even if only by nine months. But more importantly, I
had the wrong definition for it. Maybe I’m the only one here, but for my entire
life, I thought “op-ed” was synonymous with “opinions and editorials.” But no.
It is shorthand for “opposite the editorial page.” It originated with the New
York Times, and in this week’s Opinion article explaining why they have chosen
to retire, the piece begins:
The first Op-Ed page in The New York Times greeted the
world on Sept. 21, 1970. It was so named because it appeared opposite the
editorial page and not (as many still believe) because it would offer views
contrary to the paper’s. Inevitably, it would do that, too, since its founders
were putting out a welcome mat for ideas and arguments from many points on the
political, social and cultural spectrums from outside the walls of The Times —
to stimulate thought and provoke discussion of public problems.[1]
The
Times made the decision to retire the term, because in the digital world, there
is literally and physically, no longer an “opposite the editorial page.” Instead,
they have switched to using “Guest Essays” for these signed pieces from authors
outside the Times staff. It more accurately reflects what these pieces are and corrects
the oft-mistaken idea that these opinion pieces are necessarily contrary to the
editorial position.
This
is just one personal example of an assumption that I made that was wrong. And
its origin is younger than my own. So it shouldn’t be surprising that when we
read texts in the Bible, we might make far more assumptions about them and they
might not be entirely accurate.
I
attended college in Napa County – where vineyards are everywhere, sometimes
stretching as far as the eye can see. So you’d think I would have absorbed some
ideas about how grapes are cultivated. But no.
You
see, even though I saw the rather bare vines in the winter and very full vines by
the end of summer, I had no idea about viticulture – the agriculture of growing
grapes.
Part
of it might have something to do with hearing many sermons and reading about
the very text for this morning. I can’t recall specifics, but they all tended
to focus on how we (as individuals) are the branches and that we need to keep
connected to Christ so that we can bear fruit. And from that I assumed that the
same branches were attached to the trunk year after year, and that the
vinegrower merely pruned and trimmed the same branch year after year. I assumed
that only when the branch, for whatever reason, stopped bearing fruit would it
then be cut down.
I
learned, however, that the branch that produces fruit is always in its second
year, and that after producing fruit, it will never fruit again. Shoots, called
canes, come out from the trunk and from the branches every season and some of
these become branches for the next season when they become fruit-bearing
branches. In order for the vine to produce the best and most fruit, most of the
canes have to be pruned away and, depending on the type of viticulture, only a handful
of canes are allowed to become branches. In some systems it may be as few as
two canes. At the end of the fruiting season, after the harvest, all the
second-year branches are cut down and discarded, often burned.
Discussion
As you might
guess, this new knowledge dramatically altered the way in which I read today’s
grape vine metaphor.
“I am the true vine, and my Father is the
vinegrower.”
Somehow, all this time I imagined that when Jesus said this,
he meant that he was the trunk (and only the trunk), because if the rest of us
are branches and we are to abide in him, he must be the trunk to which we are
connected. But now I think that it is best to understand that Jesus is speaking
of the entire grape vine plant as himself, the true vine.
“He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit.”
All the old branches that have already borne fruit gets
removed. The branches are not a one-to-one correspondence to individual
Christians. May I suggest that perhaps the branches might more aptly refer to
methods, practices, and even some traditions?
“Every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear
more fruit.”
Every branch that
is entering the fruiting year will be trimmed of any extra, unnecessary growth,
so that it can bear more fruit this year, and so that it can produce promising
new canes for the following year on which more fruit will be borne.
I think that this
may be closer to how the original audience of Jesus and John’s gospel would
have understood this vine metaphor. None of the viticulture practices had to be
explained to them, because they all knew it, and many had direct experience.
It may be likened
to how fishing metaphors don’t have to be explained when used here, because most
of us (even those of us who don’t fish) have observed and at least have cursory
knowledge of how fishing in Southeast Alaska works. Whereas if you went to the
middle of the Lower 48 and started telling a story using fishing metaphors that
involved longlining, seining, gillnetting, your audience will probably be
completely lost and make numerous assumptions based on their experience with
fishing, which may be limited to lake and river sportfishing.
“You
have already been cleansed by the word that I have spoken to you.”
More
precisely, the word cleansed is the root of the word prunes found
in the previous sentence. Also important to note is that when Jesus says “you”
in this entire section, the word is a collective plural. Reading in context, I
think that Jesus is not primarily referring to individuals but to the community
as a whole.
“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.”
Yes,
part of abiding is each individual Christian’s connection with Christ. But in
context, it seems more appropriate to interpret this as Jesus telling the
entire community of faith that their collective effectiveness and fruitfulness
depends on collectively abiding in him. What this abiding is, specifically in
this part of Jesus’ speech, comes after today’s reading and is part of next
week’s. Hint: it’s about love.
Although
most of this section is addressed in the plural, verses 5 and 6 change to the
singular form. The older RSV renders a more literal reading.
“I
am the vine, you are the branches. [This is where the pronouns become
singular.] He who abides in me, and I in him, he it is that bears much
fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing. If a man does not abide in me, he
is cast forth as a branch and withers; and the branches are gathered, thrown
into the fire and burned.”
A
cursory reading might seem that this text does, in fact, equate the branch to
an individual. But a more careful reading shows that a simile is used within
the metaphor. Jesus says the one who does not abide “is cast forth as [or like]
a branch…” Jesus does not say that the individual is a branch. I think
that this is a subtle, but important distinction.
But
even more, the original audiences probably would have heard or read this as a
shaming and rebuke of their community’s collective failure. In the
collectivist world, it is the responsibility of the community to care and
nurture all their members. For one of them to somehow escape abiding in Christ,
is a collective failure. When we read the text from a Western, individualistic
perspective, we frequently end up reading our own culture into it and making it
about individual responsibility.[2]
The
pronouns return to the collective plural.
“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.”
The
reading concludes with a few of the results (or fruits) of the community
abiding in Christ. It is not a blanket “yes” response to any request, but that
the goals and desires of the church are so aligned with God’s that all the
requests to be more loving witnesses, and to bear the fruit of love in the
communities in which we are planted, will be answered.
Concluding Thoughts
One
of the key changes to the grape vine metaphor that I now see is that the vine is
never the same. It is always growing and changing. It is still the same plant,
but the branches are in constant state of renewal and change. It is not any
individual or groups that are specifically one branch or another, but
collectively we are all a part of this ever-changing vine.
Even
though the vine as a whole changes, there is a constant: the trunk that
connects to the ground and draws up nutrients and water. There are a few
unchanging elements of the Christian faith, and one specifically that next
week’s reading makes more clear: God’s love. The implications of this will be
discussed more thoroughly next Sunday.
In
the meantime, if we take the approach of looking at the vine metaphor as
encompassing the entire community, if we see this metaphor as one representing
the lifecycle of birth, growth, maturity, death, and renewal, what does it mean
for the church? I think that one of the aspects of Christ’s resurrection is the
promise and power to meet the needs of every community in which Christ’s disciples
are located. It also means that methods, ministries, and how we communicate needs
to adapt and change to fit places, peoples, and times.
At
one point in the lifecycle, it might mean spreading efforts broadly into many
places. At other times it might mean paring back to strengthen the most
promising efforts. As these mature, they bring a fruitful harvest of love. But
then as times and people change, we must not be afraid to allow some things to
die so that room may be made for better harvests in the future.
The
New York Times is retiring the term “Op-Ed” that served it well for fifty
years. But it no longer fits the context and is now a source of
misunderstanding about the purpose of some of its content. It has changed the
term for this content to “Guest Essays.”
In
a similar manner, it may serve us as faith communities to look at how we do
ministry – how we are currently attempting to fulfill Jesus’ command to abide in
love and to love. Are there things we need to allow to die and for God
to remove? Are there promising areas that could use some extra care and
nurture? What is currently growing fruit where more concentrated effort could
yield even more fruit?
John
12:24 records Jesus saying, “Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls
into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it
bears much fruit.” I think that the seed metaphor and the vine metaphor could
be similar. Jesus’ resurrection is the firstfruit and an archetype of the
resurrections that are supposed to be an ongoing part of the community that he
birthed.
The
one constant is God’s love for the world. As long as we abide in it, we should
not be afraid of change and renewal that is inevitable and even, dare say, necessary
everywhere else.
[1]
Opinion
| Why the New York Times's Opinion Redesign Drops 'Op-Ed' - The New York Times
(nytimes.com)
[2]
This interpretation based on application of collectivist responsibilities found
in the parable of the Good Shepherd and the Prodigal as discussed in Misreading
Scripture with Individualist Eyes: Patronage, Honor, and Shame in the Biblical
World; E. Randolph Richards and Richard James.
2 comments:
Well if I ever plant grapes I just learned a lot...
How often we miss the depth of a scripture's meaning when we make the assumption we understand how people in Jesus day / homeland / culture / time ect did the things they did. Especially when it came to planting, caring for and harvesting crops whether it be wheat or grapes.
I think too many time we approach scripture hoping to find what we want to find rather that allowing scripture "to find us and confront us." For example we want to see ourselves as the Good Samaritan and not the Levite or Pharisee who walks on.
Another thing is how strongly what is heard as "theological interpretations" can hold sway over and above actual experience.
When I started discussing with Elise what I hard learned about viticulture, she said that in her childhood, she had helped prune raisin grape vines, and that everything I was now saying made total sense. But none of that hands-on experience, prior to this past week, had signaled to her that the metaphor could be seen differently from the traditional interpretations she had grown up with.
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