Y’all see this big ugly stick lying up here in the chancel today? Know what it is? It’s a dead branch. You can tell it was alive not so long ago. Still a few withered leaves hanging on, but it’s all dried and brittle now. A dead branch. Know what it’s good for? Absolutely nothing! Oh, you can toss it in the fire. She’ll burn for about two minutes, hardly give off enough heat to cook a quail’s egg. We’ve seen a lot of these lying around the last week or so, what with the spring storms blowing through. Bursts of wind shake the trees, any branches that are withered, that don’t have good hold to the tree, will break off. Once they fall, they die very quickly because they’re no longer connected to the source that sustains their life. And even if they don’t take out a power line or knock a hole in your roof on their way down, they’re a nuisance because they’re ugly, they’re useless, they litter the lawn. It’s the live branches that look beautiful. It’s the live branches that give shade. It’s the live branches that bear fruit. The dead branches are just gathered up and sent to the chipper or stacked in a pile and burned.

That’s the picture Jesus gives us today, a venerable image from Israel’s story already widely known before Jesus used it. Hosea, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel all compared Israel to a vine God had planted which failed to bear fruit in spite of all the care God gave it. Therefore, the vine became an image of both grace and judgment, as the psalmist laments:

You brought a vine out of Egypt (O God of hosts); you drove out the nations and planted it. You cleared the ground for it; it took deep root and filled the land. The mountains were covered with its shade, the mighty cedars with its branches; it sent out its branches to the sea, and its shoots to the River. Why then have you broken down its walls, so that all who pass along the way pluck its fruit? The boar from the forest ravages it, and all that move in the field feed on it. Turn again, O God of hosts; look down from heaven, and see; have regard for this vine, the stock that your right hand planted. (Psalm 80:8-15).

Grace and judgment: Israel as the vine, God as its gardener. Then Jesus takes this old, old story and adds a fresh twist. He takes this old faded picture and gives it a new frame, because he applies it himself, he puts us in the picture, too. He says: “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” (John 15:5).

Now, it’s kind of silly for me to explicate and ruminate about this vine image today. I mean, how much is a Baptist preacher going to know his lines about vines and wines? What’s more, I have the proverbial brown thumb. Back when we planted seed cups in Vacation Bible School, mine never sprouted. People give me plants to keep in my office. They all wilt. I seeded a wildflower bed in my backyard. It sprouted poison oak. So I’m the last guy to offer you lessons in agriculture, but I consulted some experts this week. Our own Marie Allen answered some questions for me and she’s a plant pro. I cruised around the internet and found more information than I could use on on botanicals. Gina and I visited Napa Valley a year ago, rode across the sky in a hot air balloon (not fueled by me!), and I bought a CD on the whole vine-growing, grape–producing, winemaking enterprise which I reviewed in preparation for this sermon. So I learned a thing or two this week I didn’t know before about roots, shoots, and fruits.

Winemaking is an art, but it’s also basic hard work. The experts speak of terroir, a French word that means “soil,” but has come to include all the mix of factors that give a specific wine its unique personality – soil, rootstock, climate, altitude, drainage, angle of the sun, even the expertise of the vinetenders and vintners. All of it together, the whole environment, carefully and intentionally tended contributes to the making of the wine. It’s an ancient craft, so it’s no surprise we find reference to vines and wines in many cultures and classical writings and even in the Bible. In his teaching today Jesus points us to the basics, the essential terroir that produces the full-bodied spiritual life.

First thing you need is a strong plant rooted in good soil. No vine, no wine, of course, but you would be surprised how many people nowadays think they can produce something good without ever being connected, without setting down any roots, without planting themselves somewhere where they can grow. They float here and there and try this and that but they never take a stand, they never choose a way, they never take hold of a particular faith to call their own. They don’t want to be judgmental towards other vineyards and varietals so they never choose a distinctive identity that defines themselves. But you can’t grow if you don’t even know who you are.

No vine, no wine, Jesus says. I don’t think God cares so much about the difference between Baptist and Methodist, maybe not between Protestant and Catholic when you get down to it. It’s not even for me to judge God’s preference between Christian and Muslim and Jew, but there’s a world of difference between not judging other’s spiritual identities and never having any spiritual identity of your own, never choosing, never joining, never connecting, never receiving, never giving, never growing, never living deep rooted in a particular community of faith. I don’t mean that as a judgment towards anyone today, but as a plea. You can’t reach your destination if you never take the first step of the journey. You can’t bear any fruit if you never even connect to any vine that gives you roots and nourishment and strength. You can’t grow into something beautiful and useful and alive if you disconnect from everything and wind up a dead branch!

Once the plant is rooted in the right soil, you still have to prune it. That means disciplining the vines, cutting off the shoots and suckers that will only drain energy, trimming away the dead leaves and branches. It’s hard work, this vine tending, and so is the spiritual pruning of which Jesus speaks. No doubt the gospel writer imagined the hardships that came to his own community as he repeated Christ’s words. Being a Christian wasn’t easy then any more than it is now. It meant disciplining yourself to a certain kind of life, sacrificing to serve the common good, even pushing beyond your comfort zones to branch out in directions not easy to go. They faced persecution and privation, even chose hardship and risk to carry the love of God to all kinds of people. The early church referred to this hard course as God’s way of disciplining the church, purifying it, and preparing it for the harvest to come. Well, they all liked the grace part, the gift of being grafted into a long standing, deep rooted community they had not planted. And the promised harvest of good fruit and new wine sounded good, too. But this part in between about pruning, disciplining, stretching, growing didn’t sound so appealing. So a number of them turned away.

Jesus wasn’t just speaking figuratively when he spoke of dead wood in the vineyard. But you don’t get the wine without the vine and you don’t get the fruit unless you prune the shoot either. Life in the spirit stretches us, pushes us, and disciplines us. It calls us to put others above ourselves, to do the hard things like loving our enemies, serving our neighbors, and even forgiving our friends. It’s all a part a getting ready for the harvest, ya’ll.

We visited Napa in February a year ago, a decade after we honeymooned there. It’s beautiful country, even in winter. The vines are dormant, but they’re out working in the vineyards anyhow. They’re not harvesting any grapes. You can’t expect to harvest all the time. The branches all look dead. They’re brown and bare, no leaves on them at all. But they’re still connected to that deep rooted vine. This is the season when they prune and tie and prepare the branches. They do this hard work day after day on ugly, empty, barren branches because they hope, they trust, they know, the harvest will come. The branches will bud, the leaves will spread, the fruit will grow, the vines will droop with the weight of grapes in big bunches.

That’s why I say this picture Jesus gives us today is an image of both judgment and grace. He calls us to abide in the vine, even in the winter of our experience when everything seems dead and the harvest is far away. He urges us to submit to the pruning. He warns us what happens to the dead branches. But in all of this he promises the harvest, the crush, the vinting of new wine. We ourselves are privileged to be part of it, and we will be if we just abide in him, hold on, keep in the discipline of his Spirit.

“My Father is glorified by this,” Jesus says, “that you bear much fruit and become my disciples.” In John’s gospel God sends Jesus into the world, then Jesus sends out his disciples to continue and complete his work. In John, Jesus’ disciples are distinguished in one way. They bear fruit, by which Jesus means they make other disciples. They bear fruit, by which Jesus also means they exhibit a certain quality of life which Jesus describes as “abundant.” They bear fruit, by which Jesus specifically and repeatedly emphasizes they connect the way God connects, that is, they love. In John, Jesus says his disciples are known by the way they love other people. Jesus says his disciples are known by the way they love other people who also carry his name, other Christians. Jesus says his disciples are known to the world by the way they love one another.

I know, sometimes, John can be rather abstract and idealistic, but listen! When Jesus says the world will know we are his disciples by the way we love, he does not mean a philosophical ideal or some abstract “absence of malice.” He means a direct, inclusive, intentional, active, grace-giving, bridge building, relational connection that wills and works for the well being of another. That’s hard to do and you and I cannot do it unless Christ does it through us, unless we are abiding in him and letting his love flow through us.

Love is what Jesus means by bearing fruit and do you know what the Bible says about those wannabe disciples who do not bear fruit, by which I mean those who do not love? It says: “Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love” (1 John 4:8). (O Lord, you are pruning us now!) It says: “Those who say, ‘I love God,’ and hate their brothers or sisters, are liars!” (1 John 4:20). (I’m quoting from the Bible y’all!) It says “Whoever does not love abides in death” (1 John 3:14). (lift dead branch) In other words, those people who call themselves disciples of Jesus but do not love other people, especially other Christians, especially other members of their own church are deceiving themselves. They are not abiding in the vine of Christ. The Bible says they are abiding in death. They are like this, and what is this? A dead branch. And what is it good for? Absolutely nothing. And what happens to the dead branches? “Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned” (John 15:6). Yikes!

According to scripture, the very night Jesus used this image of the vine and the branches, when he spoke to them of roots, shoots and fruits, Jesus took bread and wine, the grain of the earth and the fruit of the vine, and he used them as examples of his own love for them, what he was willing to do to give them life. When we come to this table and take these same ancient symbols into our bodies, we pray that we might take Christ into our hearts, connect so directly to him that he might love through us. We can’t do it on our own. But if we abide in his love, you know what happens? We learn to love too. We accept the discipline, we find the deep roots, we share in the harvest. Well, even a guy with a brown thumb can see the right way to go. Beloved, let’s drop the ways of death, and accept the ways of life. Let’s come to the table, take in his love, and abide in it today, shall we? Amen? Amen. May we pray?

Forgive us, Lord, for we want to share in the harvest celebration, but we do not want to abide in you, endure the pruning, accept the discipline, stretch and grow and love. Forgive us, Lord, for we have not loved our neighbors, our brothers and sisters, or even each other in the way you showed us. As we come to this table and receive your gifts today, bring the reality of your love for us to our remembrance. Fill us with your love. Let it become as much a part of who we are as the bread and the wine we consume. Then, abiding in you, let us enjoy the privilege of our place in your vineyard and prepare us for the harvest you have planned by the love of Jesus, the Christ, our Saviour and our Sovereign, the vine of whom we are but one branch, in whose name we pray. Amen.