1 May 6, 2012 Fifth Sunday of Easter Pastor Dena Williams Denver, CO Acts 8:2640 Psalm 22 I John 4:7-21 John

15:18 Branch The writer of the Gospel of John has a problem. There is dissension in his religious community. He is Jewish and a faithful member of the synagogue. He also believes that Jesus, who lived and died and rose again about 60 years before he wrote his Gospel, was, indeed, the Son of God. Not all the members of his synagogue agree with his belief that Jesus is the Christ, the Messiah sent from God. Somehow, John needs to reassure Christ believers, that they have chosen a right path. John recalls for them from tradition, a parable that Jesus told during his ministry. He writes this story to bring unity, growth, and faithfulness to his community of believers. He writes this story to teach his community how to live together in peace. What importance can these words have for us in our time and place? Is it possible that words written to teach a community how to live together in peace nearly 2000 years ago might have something to say to us today? I think so. There was a grape vine in the backyard of the house where I spent my childhood.

2 It produced sweet, wonderful, Concord grapes. The vine was enormous and was carefully braced and propped against a fence to support it. There was a large central vine, twisted and gnarled and strong. thousands of smaller branches grew out from the vine. The branches twisted and entwined around one another in ways that could never be sorted out. My Father said the vine must be at least 30 or 40 years old. I am the true vine, and my Father is the vine grower. Each Fall, my Father would prune the grapevine. All the branches that had borne fruit during the year would be pruned back a bit to encourage new growth, so that there would be even more grapes for jam next summer. Every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit. All the branches that had died over the course of the year would turn brown and lifeless by Fall. My Father would cut and pull and gather all those dead branches in a giant stack in the yard. He cut them away to make room for new growth from the healthy branches. Every branch that bears no fruit is cut and gathered. Sometimes the pruning and cutting would take my Father most of a Saturday. When he finished he would haul all the dead branches to the alley. He would start a fire in the barrel with newspaper, then add the branches a bundle at a time until they were all burned.

3 It would take awhile and soon you could see the flames and sparks against the night sky. Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned. The next Summer the grapevine would produce large bunches of deep purple, fragrant grapes. My Mother would pick the grapes and wash them, put them in a colander and crank the handle, catching the juice and pulp in a kettle underneath. She would add sugar, and something called pectin. As she cooked the juice, the most amazing scent would waft through the screen door out into the back yard. The jelly jars would be thoroughly washed in steaming hot water. The jam was poured into the jars, and rectangles of paraffin, removed from wax paper wrapping would be melted and poured on top. A piece of string would be suspended in the paraffin before it hardened. Then, when it was time to open the jam, the string was pulled and the paraffin came out in a disk, revealing wonderful grape jam underneath. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit. The summer I turned 7 or 8, the wind of a Midwestern thunder storm roared through the back yard. The grape vine snapped off at the base. The next day it lay in a heap in the yard. That was the end of grapes and pruning,

4 burning dead branches and grape jam. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. The grape vine was gone. I remember the loss. My Father, a dedicated and successful gardener, never planted another. I dont know why. After that summer, all the jam made in the house was homemade strawberry. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, but apart from me, apart from the vine, you can do nothing. In the years that followed that summer of loss, once in awhile, late in the Spring, the jars of strawberry jam on the basement shelf would finally be depleted. Then, joy of joys, my Father would buy different kinds of jam from the store. It is not that I dont like strawberry jam, there was just so much of it. I buy it for my family now. They like it best of all. I buy grape jam for me. If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. John, what did this parable mean for your community of faith? What does it mean for us?

5 Jesus, you are the vine of our community. We are the branches. Seems that some of us bear good fruit. We need pruning from time to time. In general, though, we speak and act in ways that build up the grape vine. Then, in due season, there are bunches of goodness and hope and love produced, not just for us, but for our community, our neighbors, for the world. Seems that some branches do not bear fruit. Just like in your community John, there are probably some branches in our community that do not bear fruit. They speak and act in ways that are destructive to the vine. There is no goodness and hope and love produced. These branches wither and die. They break off from the vine. Sometimes they cause discouragement even among the healthy branches in the vine. I am the true vine. The Father removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit. Jesus you are the vine. We are the branches. We will bear much fruit. We will abide in you and you in us, so that the vine, the love and care of the Father will flourish in this place. Let the pruning begin! Amen