5th Sunday of Easter 2021
Acts 9:26-31; 1John 3:18-24; John 15: 1-8
What do I know about horticulture? Nothing. What do I know about viticulture (the care of vines)? Less than nothing. Where are we going with today’s Gospel? Let’s dive in and find out.
I have to confess that, unless it had bunches of grapes hanging from it, I wouldn’t recognise a vine if it poked me in the eye. In one of my previous parishes, one of the tabernacle covers carried a depiction of vine leaves. To be honest, I thought they were ivy. On the other hand, I am just about capable of recognising a rose bush, so I will start from there.
The first question which strikes me is “What is the difference between cutting away and pruning?” Would it be fair to say that they are the two sides of the same coin? The dead branches, and those which are not going to flourish further, are cut away, which amounts to a pruning of the whole bush.
When this pruning has been done, what is left? Precious little, it seems to me: not much more than a stump. Yet apparently this has to be done if the bush is to retain its value, to continue to fulfil its purpose. As long as there is something arising from the main stem, there is hope of life: yet it seems to be a fairly brutal business.
Our Lord’s description of viticulture is equally brutal. The unfruitful branches are lopped off, whereupon they wither, after which they go on the bonfire. Seemingly, they don’t even have a future as compost.
How does this apply to us—to us as individuals, and to us as the Church? The message seems, at one level, very straightforward. If we remain rooted in Christ, we will bear fruit, and all will be well. If, on the other hand, we do not allow Christ to bear fruit through us, to run through us like sap through the branches, we have no future.
So far, so good: but where does the pruning come in? Is there any one of you who has not been through pain and loss? Is there anyone who has not had to give up something precious, something without which you felt, at the time, that you could not survive? Bereavement is the most obvious example, but there are other things such as the breakdown of a relationship, the loss of a job, the failure of a project, or a collapse in health.
Have these losses destroyed you, as you felt they were doing at the time, or have you come through them leaner, fitter, more positive, more determined, perhaps with an enhanced gift of compassion, and a renewed sense of your need of God, and of union with Jesus Christ, that same God who, you initially thought, had abandoned you? I cannot answer that question for you, but it is worth pondering: have the prunings which you have undergone made you stronger or weaker, better or worse?
And what about the Church? She is going through a very drastic process of pruning at present. So much rottenness has been found among the branches in terms of abuse by clergy, and the cutting away of branches still has a way to go. You won’t be surprised to find me adding the rottenness of cowardly bishops and religious superiors, who are happy to sacrifice innocent priests and monks in order to cover their own backs, a rottenness which the institution is still unwilling to admit.
There is still more. The sin of clericalism, to which Pope Francis repeatedly draws attention—the sense of superiority and of entitlement to lord it over others—is still rampant. The present Holy Father is a gift from God to the Church, initiating a process of root and branch reform, but he is meeting bitter, and literally diabolic opposition, principally in the United States, where the majority of Catholics remain faithful, but where a minority, including some bishops and priests, appear to believe that their allegiance is to be given to Donald Trump, rather than to Jesus Christ.
There is an ancient adage, ecclesia semper reformanda , “the Church always in need of reform”, and what is true of the Church is equally true of us as individuals. We constantly need the vinedresser to be at work, pruning us, cutting us back, enabling us to bear more fruit for Christ.
