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Fifth Sunday in Easter

John 15
1"I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. 2He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes[a] so that it will be even more fruitful. 3You are already clean because of the word I have spoken to you. 4Remain in me, and I will remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.
5"I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. 6If anyone does not remain in me, he is like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up, thrown into the fire and burned. 7If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be given you. 8This is to my Father's glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples.


At one time my neighbourhood was described as the realm of "Irish cops and TTC motormen." In time it became an Italian neighbourhood, a secret unknown to many who now know it as "Greektown." I imagine it is because the Italian period was relatively short, and the Greek presence so pervasive, that my little stretch of the Danforth never enjoyed the designation of "little Italy."

The first house I owned had all the telltale signs of what I came to call the Italian Renaissance. Every outside surface was concrete: porch, path, parking pad. There was a generous amount of wrought iron and (the most telling trait) a giant fireplace in the basement suitable for cooking. I recall the house inspector's glee as he went on and on about the concrete porch: "Do you know why there are no termites on this block?" he asked. "No where does wood touch the soil. I just love this porch." He was alone. I called it the bomb shelter.

The other telltale sign was the grapevine. Planted just beyond the patio (concrete!) were four large vines, supported by a rusting trellis. Judging by the thickness of vine at the ground, these were mature vines with high production potential. I soon discovered just how high. The trick with grape is pruning. If you want to encourage new branches, then prune back as far as you can and watch the vine put all it's energy into filling the area with new growth. Prune conservatively, and the vine goes into fruit mode, with a single vine producing hundreds of clusters of grapes. With four grapevines, cleverly connected to the house with wires to direct the growth, there were times I worried that the sheer weight of fruit would bring down the house.

For my neighbour Yanni, fascination with grapevine had long ago turned to hate. Yanni's grapevine emerged from a small hole in his concrete walkway and threatened to take down his fence. First he tried cutting it off at the ground. Then he tried cutting it off below the ground. Then he tried chemicals. Next he cut it off, mixed up his own batch of concrete and put a cap over the hole. Every time the grapevine would return, even pushing out the concrete cap in an effort to live. If you have any doubt about the potential for life and nature's desire to continue, call Yanni. Or drop in. Look for the fence with the grapevine.

***

Back in Preaching 101 we learned a few basics that I think have served me well over 20 years. The first one is never psychologize Jesus (“He is feeling sad here…likely something y’all did”). Another is remain humble before the text and avoid statements such as “Jesus said (and I think we was right).” A third would be don’t preach against Jesus, since you’re kind of preaching against the head coach (“Jesus said ‘go for the touchdown, but I say to you…’”). In other words, let the red letters stay red, and tread lightly when questioning or interpreting statements from the mouth of our Lord.

So Jesus said, "I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.” Having just set out the rules, I’m not going to disagree. Apart from Jesus, we can do nothing. We are his disciples, we live and move and have our being through him. But the grapevine: it seems to have a life of it’s own. Which leads me to believe that it’s not a simple equation at work here (more Jesus equals more fruit) but something a little more complex, something rooted, I imagine, in the Bible Jesus read.

Reading through, then, the Bible is filled with vineyards. There are early ones, like the one Noah plants moments after the ark lands. It the same vineyard that produces the Bible’s first account of drunken nakedness (or is it naked drunkenness?) See Genesis 9 for more information. There are vineyards in the Promised Land, which come with special instructions regarding thankfulness, owing to the fact the Israelites gain them but didn’t create them. There are famous vineyards, like the one Ahab wants and Jezebel gets (see 1 Kings 21) proving that being smarter than all the men in the story won’t help you if it’s the men who eventually write it down.

Then there is some wonderful vineyard poetry. And since Jesus loved poetry, and loved the Book of Isaiah, we might do well to pay attention to Isaiah 5:

1 I will sing for the one I love
a song about his vineyard:
My loved one had a vineyard
on a fertile hillside.

2 He dug it up and cleared it of stones
and planted it with the choicest vines.
He built a watchtower in it
and cut out a winepress as well.
Then he looked for a crop of good grapes,
but it yielded only bad fruit.

3 "Now you dwellers in Jerusalem and men of Judah,
judge between me and my vineyard.

4 What more could have been done for my vineyard
than I have done for it?
When I looked for good grapes,
why did it yield only bad?

5 Now I will tell you
what I am going to do to my vineyard:
I will take away its hedge,
and it will be destroyed;
I will break down its wall,
and it will be trampled.

6 I will make it a wasteland,
neither pruned nor cultivated,
and briers and thorns will grow there.
I will command the clouds
not to rain on it."

7 The vineyard of the LORD Almighty
is the house of Israel,
and the men of Judah
are the garden of his delight.
And he looked for justice, but saw bloodshed;
for righteousness, but heard cries of distress.

It seems Jesus is setting out much more than a neat metaphor about remaining connected. This is more that being connected to the True Vine, critical as that is. It is about membership in the household of God, and what that membership means, and the extent to which we all make up the vineyard.

And he looked for justice, but saw bloodshed;
for righteousness, but heard cries of distress

The two most common references to the vineyard involve Sabbath and gleaning. I will look at them in turn. Sabbath means rest, and most often we think about Sabbath in the realm of self-care: Honour God by resting and using that rest time to reflect on God. Fair enough. Everything is commanded to rest, even the field and the vineyards, but most of all the workers. And resting workers create more work for more workers. Take the 40 hour work week, a proud accomplishment of early labour. Historians have spun it to suggest the 40 hour work week was about added leisure time and quality of life, but in fact the 40 hour work week meant employment for more workers. It was unjust to have some work 60 hours while others were unemployed, and the rule of 40 hours solved this.

Next was gleaning. It begins in Sabbath, as the idle fields are to be left for gleaners, the poor and the landless who can eat what is produced in a fallow time, and thereby avoid the indignity of begging for food. And in non-fallow years, similar provisions are made:

When you reap the harvest of your land, do not reap to the very edges of your field or gather the gleanings of your harvest. 10 Do not go over your vineyard a second time or pick up the grapes that have fallen. Leave them for the poor and the alien. I am the LORD your God.

The vineyard is a location for justice precisely because the most vulnerable are cared for and saved from hunger. A portion of the harvest belongs to God, but rather than gather it up and deliver it to the Temple, God cuts out the middleman. Food on the edges or food fallen to the ground is ready for the gleaners, the poor and the alien, whom God loves, and feeds like the Israelites in the desert were fed. The command to keep Sabbath and the command to leave the edges is the Bible’s own social assistance, recognizing that all were once slaves in Egypt and all depend on God’s gifts.

John 15 is recreating a household, recreating a vineyard Kingdom where justice is restored through an ongoing connection to Jesus. It means abiding in the command to keep Sabbath and protect the vulnerable and ensure that enough harvest is left that all may be fed. Failure to abide in the love of Jesus will not mean less grapes but less mercy, less righteousness, and less Kingdom.

The potential for growth in the vineyard is limitless. God ensured that. And God gave is the tools to ensure all this potential is distributed. Now we seek the wisdom, and the power of the Holy Spirit, to do the important work of the vineyard, remain the household of God, now and ever, amen.

posted by michael jacob kooiman @ 7:24 AM