Saint Joseph the Worker

Leaving the chapel on Good Friday
afternoon. 

Lectionary: 287

“I am the true vine, and my Father is the vine grower. He takes away every branch in me that does not bear fruit, and everyone that does he prunes so that it bears more fruit. You are already pruned because of the word that I spoke to you. Remain in me, as I remain in you.


Jesus’ parable of the vine echoes Isaiah’s parable of the vine. Both prophets lace this metaphor with promises and threats. The promises are deeply consoling and reassuring; the threats are formidable. Jesus promises the connected branches of his vine will bear much fruit. They will “ask for whatever you want and it will be done for you.” 


But the disconnected vines, those “who do not remain in me will be thrown out like a branch and wither; people will gather them and throw them into a fire and they will be burned.”


When I was a kid we had a large grape vine in our backyard. Dad dug up a huge root from my great-grandmother’s yard after she died and brought it to our house. It was a marvelous plant with small, strong, dark grapes. What we didn’t eat off the vine Mom made into grape jelly. 


But we didn’t pay a whole lot of attention to its maintenance and I remember how the living branches and the dead branches twined around each other. The dead were obvious; they practically crumbled in your hand. Once every few years Dad might go out and tear away the dead branches, leaving the whole vine looking stripped and stricken. There wasn’t much left. But the dead were useless; there was no point in leaving them to clutter up the poles and wire mesh he used to support it. 


Bishops and pastors don’t often tear out the dead branches from our church. Even the mention of dead wood from the pulpit causes quite an uproar. (I speak from experience.) When they show up for funerals (usually their own) we bury them with all the standard prayers. Judging the dead is above my pay grade. 


But God has severely pruned the Church since the Second Vatican Council. I meet Catholics who tell me they quit attending “after they changed the Mass” (fifty years ago! Some are too young to remember the old rituals.) Except for embarrassment when they meet a priest, they seem to suffer no ill effects. They don’t notice the deprivation their children and grandchildren suffer as they are given over to cheap entertainment and the value-free American culture. 

For I, the LORD, your God, am a jealous God, inflicting punishment for their ancestors’ wickedness on the children of those who hate me, down to the third and fourth generation;

The children, it seems, are punished to the third and fourth generation because their parents neglected their duties to worship God. Some will say they would not impose religion on their children, but prefer to let their children choose for themselves. 

They do not hesitate to impose a language on their children when they teach them how to speak, read and write; nor will they pause to consider whether their children should learn to use a cup, fork and knife. They eagerly teach them how to drive a car, wear the best clothes, and play with computer toys. But they regard the gift of faith as an imposition. And so the children are deprived until the Lord finds a way around their unworthy parents. 

...but showing love down to the thousandth generation of those who love me and keep my commandments.

God of hosts, turn again, we implore, look down from heaven and see. Visit this vine and protect it, the vine your right hand has planted. (Psalm 80) 

As the visionary gazed upon an arid valley filled with dry bones, the Spirit asked Ezekiel, "Can these bones live?" He replied, "You know, O Lord." And then he watched as the Spirit restored life -- and hope to Israel. 

We pray that, when the time of pruning has ended, God will restore the vitality of this vine.