Passage: This Week's Second Reading

"Life in the Vine"

When you think of fine wine, that is, if you think of wine at all, your mind and palate might wander to a particular region of France. The French have a long history of winemaking and have provided the names for some of the most well-known varieties of wine. Champagne, Bordeaux, Chardonnay, Burgundy, just to name a few, are all regions that give monikers to certain types of French wine that, in order to be authentic, must have originated in that region. The stuff that ball players spray on each other after the World Series, for example, might be called champagne, but if the bottle indicates it came from anywhere other than a specific region in France, it’s technically just "sparkling wine."

But while the French seem to be the quintessential wine snobs, more adventurous winemakers have lately been branching out, so to speak. Leaving behind the conservative and highly regulated regions of their homeland, some French winemakers have moved to America’s more freewheeling wine country around Napa, California, because, as Philippe Melka puts it, "Here, you not only have a lot more options, but there is an excitement about trying new things." Nicolas Morlet, who descends from a long line of champagne producers, agrees: "It is completely different here. We have the freedom to fully realize our passion, to push our limits with every vintage. We aren’t working under a classification made in 1855 or a constitution of grands crus (French for "great growth").

Still, some things about winemaking are not subject to change. One foundational principle that applies to both Old World and New World wine is that great wine is always a reflection of a particular vineyard. Great wine is always a reflection of a particular vineyard. In other words, if you want a good wine, it helps to know its source.

Jesus obviously knew a little about wine himself. He knew exactly what kind of wine would impress the daylights out of the guests at the wedding feast in Cana. So it shouldn’t be a big surprise that he used the metaphor of a vineyard to describe this relationship to his disciples. Jesus knew that the best way to tell what kind of product you were getting would be to look at the label and see from where in the world it came. In this case though, the source isn’t a place but a person — Jesus himself.

Jesus begins by saying that he is the "true vine," the source of growth and fruit-bearing, in a vineyard that is tended by the "Father." The Father is the real winemaker, the one who tends the vineyard and assures its quality.

The metaphor of the vineyard is used several times in the Old Testament to describe God’s relationship with Israel. In Isaiah 5:1-7, for example, God plants and tends a vineyard but it yields "wild grapes" or inferior fruit — a metaphor for the apostasy of Israel and Judah. The same vineyard imagery is used in Jeremiah 2, Ezekiel 19, and Hosea 10. In each of these cases, however, Israel as the "vine" is the ultimate source of poor "fruit."

In the Old Testament, "fruitfulness" was another way of saying "faithfulness," and a lack of good fruit meant that God’s people had failed to be the true vine that would bolster God’s reputation in the world as the ultimate fine winemaker. That being the case, it was the winemaker’s job to do some pruning and replacing, which is what the prophets saw the exile as being all about.

Later, God would replant the vineyard with a new stock and that new vine, the "true vine," would be Jesus himself who embodied the new Israel, God’s

Chosen One, the One through whom the whole world would be saved and blessed.

While the vine is the source for good fruit, there’s a vital link between the vine and its fruit. The "branches" are the focus of Jesus’ teaching with his disciples. "I am the vine," says Jesus to his followers, "you are the branches." It is only in union with the vine that the branches live. The sap that flows from the vine nourishes the branches.

Notice that the disciples of Jesus aren’t the "fruit," the end product, but the conduit for the fruit’s nourishment. The quality of the fruit depends on the branches’ connection to the vine itself. What Jesus is describing here is the relationship between himself and his disciples — a relationship characterized by mutuality and indwelling, and by a relationship that is also focused on bearing great growth for the whole world.

Look closely at a grapevine. One of the first things you notice about its branches is that it’s very difficult to tell them apart individually. All the branches twist and curl around one another to the point that it’s almost impossible to tell where one starts and another stops. Jesus’ use of branch imagery is a way of expressing that it’s not the achievement of an individual branch or its status that matters.

The quality of branches and fruit depends solely on the quality of their connection to the vine. When it comes to discipleship, each "branch" or individual gives up his or her desire for individual achievement in order to become one of many encircling branches — a community that is rooted and nurtured by Christ and points to his reputation and quality, not their own.

With that understanding of branches in mind, there are a couple of things that we branches must remember in order to stay effectively and fruitfully connected to Jesus. First, we have to remember that branches are fruit-bearing, not fruit-making. "As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me … Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing."

We’ve heard these words of Jesus many times, but we also hear the call of our culture. Hard work, achievement and success are things that can lure disciples of Jesus into thinking that we can be fruitful as a result of our own efforts. Sinful man is always trying to redefine God’s good designs. God says marriage is the union of one man and one woman. Sinful man wants to apply marriage to whatever relationship he creates.

God says Jesus alone is the way, the truth and the life, but sinful man finds no problem with mixing in a little bit of New Age spirituality or an attitude that all religions pretty much lead to the same place or thing. The way God orders our lives is good, but our attempts to fit his designs into our sinful wants are not.

When a branch gets the idea that it can make fruit on its own, it dries up, withers, and is no longer useful. The mission of a branch isn’t to look good or to call attention to itself, but to give all the glory to God, the one whose name is on the label.

Second, the "fruit" that we are to bear, like the grapes of a fine winery, is full of many textures and flavors. Paul outlines some of these in Galatians 5:22-23 when he talks about the "fruit of the Spirit," things like "love, joy, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control."

As branches, connected to and "abiding in" the source of God’s love and grace, we are conduits and not the end product. God’s grace and love

always come to us on their way to someone else; to someone who will be able to "taste and see that the Lord is good" (Psalm 34:8) because we have been faithful branches.

But how do we best stay connected to the "true vine"? The sap that flows from the vine nourishes the branches. We confess that our very lives sprout from our Creator, and that by our sin we have cut ourselves off from the source of our life. Yet, by His grace, through the blood of his Son, shed on the cross for the sin of the world, we have been reconciled to God.

There are a few disciplines that deepen our relationship with Christ, which is where the whole idea of "pruning" comes in. Reading, meditating and praying through the Scriptures is one way in which disciples are "pruned." The words of Jesus about the kingdom and the story of his life, death and resurrection focus us on what’s truly important for bearing the fruit of his grace and love to the world.

When we are focused on the Word, when we’re connected to the Vine, through faith we are justified, cleaned through the Word. From this tight attachment to the Vine that we branches enjoy, there follow other Gospel blessings; things like answered prayers, evidence to the world around us of our discipleship, and the glorification of God the Father.

Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin were the first men to walk on the moon in the Apollo 11 space mission. Michael Collins, the third member of the group, was in charge of the command module, essential for their return to Earth. It circled the moon while Armstrong and Aldrin landed. The moon lander touched down at 3:17 Eastern Standard Time, Sunday, July 20, 1969.

Aldrin had brought with him a tiny communion kit, given him by his church. It had a silver chalice and vial of wine about the size of the tip of his finger. During the morning he radioed, "Houston, this is Eagle. This is the LM pilot speaking. I would like to request a few moments of silence. I would like to invite each person listening in, whoever or wherever he may be, to contemplate for a moment the events of the last few hours, and to give thanks in his own individual way."

"In the radio blackout," he wrote later, "I opened the little plastic packages which contained the bread and the wine. I poured the wine into the chalice our church had given me. In the one-sixth gravity of the moon, the wine slowly curled and gracefully came up the side of the cup. Then I read the Scripture, ‘I am the vine, you are the branches. Whosoever abides in me will bring forth much fruit.’ I had intended to read my communion passage back to Earth, but at the last minute Deke Slayton had requested that I not do this.

NASA was already embroiled in a legal battle with Madalyn Murray O’Hare, over the Apollo 8 crew reading from Genesis while orbiting the moon at Christmas. I agreed reluctantly ... Eagle’s metal body creaked. I ate the tiny host and swallowed the wine. I gave thanks for the intelligence and spirit that had brought two young pilots to the Sea of Tranquility. It was interesting for me to think: The very first liquid ever poured on the moon and the very first food eaten there were the communion elements."

Great wine is the reflection of a particular vineyard, be it from an Old World tradition or an eclectic New World experiment. God wants to tend the finest vineyard ever, the one that takes the ultimate prize for grands crus. May we, by the power of the Holy Spirit, as disciples of Jesus, the true vine, embrace our role as branches — channels for God’s grace, so that when the world samples the fine vintage of God’s love and grace, they will want to know the winemaker! Amen