John 15:1-8
This just seems so odd. It seems strange to share this speech now. The resurrection happened five weeks ago — and here we are remembering the words that Jesus said as he prepared for his own death. In this particular gospel, Jesus has a lot to say before he dies. Without taking a single breathe, he talks his way through four straight chapters. It began in the previous chapter — and it will be another two chapters before Jesus says all that he needs to say. But its strange to read these words now. It seems so odd to have experienced this wonderful thing together only to go backwards. It seems bizarre to share in this miraculous event only to scratch our heads to say, “Wait. What was it he said?”
He began by assuring them that their hearts should not be troubled. Then, he tried to explain how this Advocate, this Holy Spirit (which they have surely never heard of before), will come and make everything clearer. And, if that doesn’t totally confound the disciples, he continues his speech by describing himself as a vine. Now, c’mon. That’s just bizarre. Who in the world would ever describe themselves as a vine?
Well, Jesus, as it turns out. This is one of several attempts to try to explain who he is. He will also describe himself as bread, light, a gate, a shepherd — but here, Jesus is the true vine. It’s something he wants the very people who have been his support and his strength to know about him before he dies. It’s something that he can only figure out how to say with the illustration of a vine.
As people that have experienced the resurrection, as the very people that have been transformed by this event, perhaps we read these words because we’re not sure why it ever mattered that Jesus called himself a vine. Of course, we don’t see the world the way that the disciples do. We may have rolled up our sleeves in the garden but there aren’t many of us that are living off the land like those guys did. The metaphor gets a little lost on us — but that seems to be true for every description we try to offer about the resurrection. There aren’t really words to explain it. There’s nothing that really illustrates that transformation. So, as strange as it may be, it seems we must scratch our heads to say, “Wait. What was it he said?”
Because Jesus didn’t just give us the metaphor of a vine. He invited us to remain. He says it seven times. Remain. Stay here. Endure. Hold out. Remain. This is what he told those whom he loved most. This is what he told those that were more than just friends or family. These are the people that were so connected to each other that they literally could not survive without each other. That’s where Jesus hopes the disciples will remain – in the power of that love, in the strength of that bond. Remain. Remain in me, as I will remain in you. Jesus is using this image of a vine full of branches to capture the powerful connection that he shares with the disciples.
I am the true vine, Jesus tells them. You are the branches. There is no option of getting cut off – as much as we might like to make a big deal out of the vineyard keeper. The truth is that that pruning has already happened. You’ve already been changed by these words. You’ve already grown in this faith. You’ve already experienced this love. So, remain because this is where the soil is rich. Remain because this is where the ground is fertile. Remain because this is where you have learned about love. Stay here. Endure. Hold out. Remain because it’s good here.
It’s what Victor Mancini discovers as a small child in the novel Choke. He was eating a “corn dog while it was still too hot” and so he swallowed it whole but it got stuck. He couldn’t breathe or talk and then the “whole restaurant crowded around” him. That’s when he felt it. It was right then. He felt loved. Even though he was choking on a corn dog, it felt like the “whole world cared what happened to him.” Everyone hugged him and patted his hair. He felt so loved. He wanted that moment to last forever.
And he tries. As a grown man, he would repeat this accident over and over again. He would choke on his food in the middle of a restaurant so that he could feel that again. So that he could feel like the whole world cared. But it never really works because as much as Victor wants to be loved, he doesn’t really want to risk the possibility of loving anyone else. He wants to remain. He knows it’s good here but he doesn’t really understand that it’s not just a connection to the vine — but also a connection to each branch and every grape. He doesn’t get to pick and choose. No one does. If you’re connected, you’re connected to it all. Of course, as Victor knows, that’s intense. It’s risky. It’d be easier to cut yourself off.
It’s understandable reaction — because this is really overwhelming. It may be easier to just cut yourself off but it seems that’s why Jesus likes this metaphor. He wants you to remember that the best grapes are closest to the vine. You have to be close. You can’t get that far away. You’re a branch. You’re connected. You’re rooted in this vine. Jesus invites you to hold on. Remain in me as I remain in you.
These are more than Jesus’ words. These are the words that we should be saying to each other: Remain in me as I remain in you. It’s a risk. It’s a huge risk but maybe it’s really true that we can’t live without each other. Maybe this is where we will really grow. Maybe here — in this church family — we might learn more about love. Maybe that’s why we need to read these words in the weeks after Easter. We forget that the miracle isn’t some fantastic event five weeks ago, but something that happens every time we realize how connected we are. Maybe we need these words to remember to say them to each other: Remain in me as I in you.