Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Wednesday of the Fifth Week of Easter

I am the vine, you are the branches.


Unlike the branches of a tree, a vine branch has a very direct connection to the vine. When Jesus speaks of himself as the vine, he reminds us of the wonderful and necessary connection we have to him. It’s not enough to belong to “the church.” A dead branch cannot hide among the living branches. The pruner will rip it out. Nor can “dead wood” belong in the church. It will be thrown out and burned.

The living branch is supple, fruitful and vital. If the wind blows it hither and yon it clings to the vine. The dead branch is dry and brittle, crumbling with any movement. If the pruner doesn’t rip it out, it will fall to the ground anyway. It doesn’t belong.

Jesus gives each disciple that ability to cling to him. Although we sin -- For the just man falls seven times and rises again… (Proverbs 24:16) – we continually repent and turn back to the Lord. Our sins are not excusable but they are forgivable. As we discover his mercy – its flowing, flowering, ebullient graciousness – we don’t need to make excuses anymore. Rather we accept his forgiveness with the simplicity and freedom of children and go on with our lives.

So we remain in him and bear much fruit. Lately I have been struck by a word from our Liturgy of the Hours:

Come to him, a living stone, rejected by human beings but chosen and precious in the sight of God, and, like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. (1 Peter 2:5)

The word I find so beautiful is acceptable. Because we cling to the vine in all innocence and joy, sinful but repentant, foolish but wise enough to know what’s good for us – God accepts our sacrifices great and small for our salvation and the salvation of the whole world.

PIED BEAUTY


GLORY be to God for dappled things—
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;
And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
              Praise him.

Gerard Manley Hopkins


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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.

Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.

I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.

You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.