I am the vine, and you are the branches. If you stay joined to me, and I stay joined to you, then you will produce lots of fruit. But you cannot do anything without me. John 15:5 CEV
John 15:1-8 - Lectionary for Easter 5B
See also The True Vine
Life in the Connection
Spring in Korea is absolutely beautiful. The mountains turn to green. Gardens erupt in a sea of pinks and yellows and purples and whites. Week after week brings a new display of color.
We have a volunteer in our chapel that produces the most amazing floral displays every week throughout the year. She incorporates an astonishing variety of seasonal flowers and her creations always seem to fit the liturgical theme. Her arrangements are astounding in both their natural beauty and their human ingenuity. I've never seen anything like them in nearly 30 years of ministry. She produces these works of art as a labor of love and fills our sanctuary with God's beauty throughout the year.
Still, the beauty of a cut flower always fades. My wife cut some irises from our garden last week and put them in a vase. Their beautiful purple flowers turned to brown, their green stems turned to mush and their aroma turned to stench. Within a week of being cut they were good for nothing but the trashcan or compost heap.
My street, on the other hand, is lined with birch trees that were severely pruned in the fall two years ago. When the trimming was complete, they looked like nothing but tall stumps. What was left of the branches ended abruptly where the chainsaws had done their work. The trees were barren, gnarled and ugly. I was sure they were dead. Even when spring rolled around, the trees showed no sign of life for weeks. By midsummer, however, new life had emerged. Even then, a few trees that stood outside the chapel appeared to be completely dead, with areas of obvious decay near the truncated limbs. They went through a complete growing season last year without sprouting a single green leaf. This morning, however, I was surprised to discover some new green shoots sprouting from the truncated limbs of even the most damaged trees.
What is the difference between beautiful flowers that turn ugly and rot and ugly stumps that blossoms in new life? New life emerges where the branch remains connected to its life giving root.
Jesus compared himself to a vitis vinifera - a common wine-grape vine found throughout Europe and the middle east. As the grapevine grows vertically from the ground, it eventually reaches the height of the trellis or frame, to which the gardener ties its outstretched branches. A single grape vine looks something like a cross, with its horizontal members spread to either side. Was this visual image one aspect of Jesus' intent?
Grape vines can live very long lives and they are not much to look at. Over the years they become twisted and knotty. Old branches are pruned away. Even new branches are trimmed to maximize grape production. Old vines bear the scars of generations of growth and pruning, but they still live on. Old vines, it seems, produce fewer grapes, but the fruit they do produce is more flavorful and intense. That sounds hopeful to an old guy like me.
Jesus compares himself to a grapevine. Vine branches only bear fruit, Jesus says, as they remain connected to the vine. That is demonstrably true for grape vines and tomato plants and all sorts of living things. Is it also true for people?
Resiliency after Trauma
I recently returned from a retreat with other chaplains and chaplain assistants at which we talked about resiliency in the experience of trauma. We were talking about the trauma of war, but we could have talked about death, disease, divorce, physical or sexual assault, job loss, or any other of a host of traumas. Trauma has a way of beating you up. We like to think that we will express our faith in profound ways and have a meaningful spiritual experience in the middle of trauma, but the fact is that trauma just pretty much kicks you in the teeth.
We learned a lot this week about how trauma affects the brain. When the brain senses a threat, higher brain functions get left out of the loop. In the midst of trauma, the brain is not capable of either reason or what we would normally identify as meaningful spiritual experience. The brain is overwhelmed by the threat of danger or pain. Very basic survival reactions take control when life is threatened. The ability to think religious thoughts or have religious feelings is severely limited.
How, then, do you mentally and emotionally and spiritually survive trauma? Theologically, for me, that question means, "How do I stay connected to the spiritual source of life even when life is kicking me in the teeth?"
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