Text:

John 15: 1-8

"I am the true vine, and my Father is the vine grower. He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit. You have already been cleansed by the word that I have spoken to you. 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. I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing. Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned. 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.

Sermon Text

I thought about Alice as I prepared this sermon. She didn't garden when we lived in Miami, because the nematodes--those little ground bugs that eat the roots of your veggies-- were just impossible there. Consequently, the only things we raised in Miami to eat grew on trees: grapefruit, oranges, bananas, limes, mangoes, and once in a while, papayas.

This morning's scripture uses a horticultural metaphor to talk about how we can achieve and maintain spiritual productivity. Jesus is the true vine, the passage says, and we are the branches. The true vine is the root, onto which the farmer would graft another plant. Farmers here would call it the root stock. Jesus is the root stock for his disciples. If they are to produce anything worthwhile for God, they must remember that Jesus is their foundation, that from which they grow. Christians abide in Jesus and can do nothing without him, just as a branch that is cut off from the vine quickly withers.

Jesus taught in grape country. When I preached on this scripture in Miami, I realized I could not follow the metaphor of grape growing, because very few grapes could flourish there. It was much too hot and humid. So, when I talked about how God prunes us to keep us fit for bearing good fruit, I referred not to the growing of grapes, but rather, grapefruit.

Alas, here I am back in the northeast and must use yet another metaphor. Tomatoes will do. Just about any gardener growing summer veggies here is into tomatoes. So, what can we learn from growing tomatoes about staying spiritually productive?

Alice grows tomatoes in a couple of raised beds in a community garden on Sherman Street on the Upper East Side. Tomatoes love raised beds. Properly fertilized, they grow like crazy in raised beds, shoulder to head high. The first season, watching her tomatoes grow thus, Alice was so happy and proud. But her plants didn't bear as much fruit as she thought they would, what with all that luxuriant plumage. They didn't produce as much as she had hoped because they hadn't been pruned aggressively. Hazel, her elder gardening guru clued her in. "You've got to keep after the suckers, Alice."

Particularly at notches, where two branches of a tomato plant diverge, the plant sprouts useless but nevertheless very showy branches called suckers, I guess because they suck the energy out of the plant. They never blossom, so they will never bear fruit, and consequently they aren't worth keeping. Pruning suckers sends precious energy back into the plant, which can then be used to produce healthy fruit. If you want lots of good tomatoes, you mustn't be too impressed by abundant greenery. The suckers must go, along with any dead or diseased portions of the plant, of course.

John meant for this horticultural metaphor to convey something to us about spiritual health and productivity. What could be the point of his metaphor? What would it mean for God to prune us, to cut away from us the dead or diseased or merely showy parts of ourselves? Is there a part of your self that is totally unproductive? Then, says our scripture this morning, God will prune that good-as-dead part away, so that you can bear good fruit. Is there a part of you that may look very impressive, but is nevertheless hampering your work for the Lord because it's sucking energy from what's really important? Then God will prune that away too, so that you can bear good fruit. I suppose that plants don't like being pruned. It must hurt at least a little to have part of you cut away. Don't you find it interesting that it's God who does the pruning in this morning's lesson--not some evil force, not some calamity, but rather, the author of our being. Our loving creator does the cutting, not to hurt us, but to strengthen what's left of us, so that we might achieve our purpose, which is to bear good fruit, instead of just sprouting useless, energy-sapping plumage.

We are to bear good fruit for God's kingdom. That's the bottom line of the lesson. But what's meant by that? What does scripture mean by good fruit? Paul addresses that question in his letter to the Galatians (chapter 5) where he writes about living in the Spirit, the same spirit that was in Jesus. Paul lists several personal qualities that are evidences of living in this spirit. He calls them fruits of the spirit. Here is Paul's list of spiritual fruits: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. This is probably not an exhaustive list of spiritual fruits, but it gives us a very good idea of what the Biblical writers meant when they spoke of bearing good fruit for God's kingdom. It meant exhibiting the personal virtues that Jesus exhibited abundantly.

Luke speaks to the question of how to define spiritual fruits another way. When writing about John the Baptist he quotes John as warning his countrymen: "Whoever does not bear good fruit for the kingdom of God will be cut down and thrown into the fire." That puts the fear of God in his listeners and they ask him "What must we do, then (to escape this punishment)? Luke responds to the question not with a list of personal virtues, such as love, or joy, or peace, etc., as we saw in Paul's letter, but rather, with two very specific ways that they must behave differently: If you own two coats, he says, give one your poor neighbor who has no coat at all. Secondly, if you are a soldier, stop using your power to extort from people. Make do with your wages and leave your countrymen at peace.

This passage in the third chapter of Luke I find very provocative and challenging. For you see, it's easy sometimes to think that we're bearing good fruit for God's kingdom when we stay apart from the conflicts and controversy that surround us. It's not too hard to be gentle and self-controlled, and patient, and joyful, and loving, etc., if we isolate ourselves from such storms. But if we get our hands dirty in earthy issues, as any true holy horticulturalist must, then it becomes harder to hide the fact that we are not, after all, bearing much good fruit. You see, God isn't interested in us keeping our hands clean, just so we can make a fine show of hothouse virtues and superficial piety. Another Biblical writer, Isaiah, put it this way: God doesn't care about our solemn religious assemblies, our shows of goodness. No, what God wants from us is genuine, deep compassion, and justice. God wants things to change here on earth; and for that to happen we have to become holy horticulturalists. We have to get our hands dirty, moving with the Spirit to change the way things get done down here. We have to help the Spirit get this change rolling, so that it gathers momentum, rolling, rolling, like an ever flowing stream, in Isaiah's words.

Our lesson ends where Jesus says: "My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples." Bearing good fruit means doing something that makes a difference, that leaves the earth a little more like heaven. God, do prune us and strengthen us for this work! Amen.