May 10, 2009 at Saint Mark in Norman, OK
Acts of the Apostles 9, 26-31 + Psalm 22 + 1 John 3, 18-24 + John 15: 1-8
We must be very careful about how we hear and how we use the word: “True” which John puts on the lips of Jesus in today’s Gospel. The word for “true” in Greek means a lack of forgetfulness. It has nothing to do with being right or wrong, true or false. For those of us who find our identity within the Roman Catholic Church, our claim to be the “true” church does not imply that another is false. It simply suggests that we do not forget. We do not forget our past, forget our tradition, and forget our roots in the apostles, and the teachings of Jesus about unity, forgiveness, fidelity, and love.
The true vine is “true” because it does not forget its communion with all there is and the source of all there is. Never did Jesus forget where he came from, and so he was never in doubt about where he was going. Never did Jesus forget who he was as the Father’s Son. Never did he think that he was on his own living his life, doing his thing, becoming his own man. He was “true”, and so he could say: “I am the Truth.”
Trouble entered this world when forgetfulness occurs. Eve forgot what God had said; forgot that she was created and God was Creator. Trouble still enters this world when we forget the Will of God that we all be one, when we forget that we must love one another,
when we forget to forgive, or forget that we are commanded to feed each other, and bear one another’s burdens. Trouble comes when we forget that we all come from the same God
that we are all brothers and sisters, that we are here to live in harmony with each other not in competition; or forget that peace is the fruit that springs from the vine of justice. If we are grafted onto the True Vine, then we cannot forget or else we shall be pruned away. We must be True like the vine to which we are grafted, and our truthfulness comes from that connection.
I have spoken of this image with you before. In the church where I studied for the priesthood there is a stained-glass window before which I have stood and prayed on many occasions. In the center of the bottom panel a tree rises up with a great trunk and luxurious branches. It bears red ripe apples. On either side stand a man and woman who are recognized because she reaches up for some of the fruit. She takes when she should be receiving. In the panel above that one, the same tree trunk extends upward but changes into a vine loaded with rich ripe grapes. The vine twists and turns upward into a third panel
and that vine becomes the wood of a cross on which Christ hangs helplessly in death.
In my mind, Jesus is grafted to the cross, to the vine, and ultimately to that everlasting symbol of the garden which we ought not forget because that was where and was when we were True: to the Will of God, the Plan of Salvation, and most true to the nature into which we were born.
Our only hope to be True: truly human, truly holy, truly church is to remain on the vine, even though it is a vine that will be pruned now and then so that it can be fruitful. Jesus and his first followers knew quite well that the fruit on the vine only comes from new growth. Our only hope to avoid being fuel for the fire is to be made new again and again by the pruning of conversion, discipline, sacrifice, and sometimes suffering.
In our chapel the crucifix on the south wall has a vine weaving itself out of and around the cross. You might take another look at it someday soon and ponder the meaning of that cross and that vine and how it is that we might become True.