"I am the true vine"-Sermon for Easter 5, John 15:1-8:
I recently read an article in the April edition of the Atlantic (April 3, 2024) written by Derek Thompson titled, “The True Cost of the Church Going Bust”. Indeed, an ominous sort of title intended to raise our eyebrows and peek our interest. And, to bolster his “going bust” title, the author notes that, “More than one-quarter of Americans now identify as atheists, agnostics, or religiously unaffiliated…[and that] more Americans today have “converted” out of religion than have converted to all forms of Christianity, Judaism and Islam combined.” He notes further that, “In 2021, membership in houses of worship fell below a majority [of Americans] for the first time in record”. Closer to home, I have actually heard the statistic that less that 10% of all the people living in Austin attend any sort of religious worship service in any given week. The author, who is himself agnostic, began the article by saying that, at first, he saw this decline in faith in positive terms. He writes, “Organized religion seemed, to me, beset by scandal and entangled in noxious politics. So, I thought, what is there really to mourn?” But, over the last few years, his opinion has changed. He continues, “Maybe religion, for all of its fault, works a bit like a retaining wall to hold back the destabilizing pressure of American hyper-individualism, which threatens to swell and spill over in its absence”. To this end, he notes, “This year, the Pew Research Center reported that religiously unaffiliated Americans are less likely to volunteer, less likely to feel satisfied with their community and social life, and are more likely to feel lonely”. He quotes Eric Klinenberg, a sociologist at NYU, who writes, “Clearly more Americans are spending Sunday mornings on their couches, and it’s affected the quality of our collective life”.
Now, despite what the stats might suggest, I want you to hear me say that I believe the Church is not going bust, and I fully agree with the author that religious communities, despite their very real faults and foibles, are an undeniable benefit to our collective life. Certainly, going bust is not our experience at St. Julian’s, as we have grown in number, budget, and, most importantly, in spiritual depth and impact for God and for good in each of the almost 15 years we have existed. And, of course, outgrowing our current space and developing our permanent campus that is now within 2 months of completion points to our growth and spiritual vitality. Yes, we, like so many churches, have contended with the cultural headwinds of secularization, a pandemic, social and political fracturing, and a host of other financial and societal challenges…but we have done so with God’s providential, supernatural and unwavering help and with our deep love and commitment to each other and to our mission and ministry as a family of faith. With God’s love and our love for each other, for our church and for our larger community, we have wrestled through such headwinds to discover God-given meaning and purpose that has led us, as our Vision Statement reads, to “Grow in Relationship, Love all Well, and Seek Intimacy with Christ”. And, I believe further this holy work, this good and life-giving work, has made a significant difference in the lives of many, many people…including many beyond our own walls. Thus, our shared life at St. Julian’s has not just been a blessing to us but the community at large. Which is the whole point of Thompson’s article…to suggest that religious communities are uniquely adept at forming life-giving communities…and life-giving communities are the chief building blocks of life-giving societies.
Our bishop likes to ask the question, “Would it make a difference to anyone but ourselves if our church suddenly disappeared overnight?” And, I believe the answer is a resounding yes. The nexus of southwest Round Rock, southeast Cedar Park, northwest Austin and beyond would be diminished and missed if we suddenly went away. And, individually, and speaking only for myself, I know my friendship with all of you makes me feel connected, grounded and less lonely. I know the strength and accountability that sharing ownership of this community, St. Julian’s, with each of you makes me want to give more to the larger community…to serve others…to be the change I hope to see in the world…to be civically engaged…to be a better human. This life we share in a word brings me…and I hope and trust you…joy. There are no words to fully express how immeasurably blessed, full and rich my life is for getting off the couch on Sundays mornings, or whenever we gather, to be with each of you…and with the God of love who sits at our center.
Which brings me to the image of pruning a vine that Jesus sets before us in our gospel reading this morning. You see, what I see as a faithful interpretation of the undeniable decline in religious participation that Thompson notes in his article, is, indeed, a season in the life of the church that could be described as pruning. And though this is not the first season of pruning in the life of the church, historically speaking, if honest, after two-thousand years of existence, it is likely high-time for the church, writ large, to experience a season of gracious pruning by the Great Gardner, who is the God love…whom we worship and adore. It is a good thing for the dead branches of patriarchy, racial and LGBTQ bias and bigotry, unholy alliances with power and noxious politics, inner-fighting, exclusion, hypocrisy, and clericalism to be pruned from the vine…quite frankly…cut off and burned. These are the sorts of things that have driven folk out of the church…not Jesus…not the promise that life and love win, which we continue to proclaim in this Easter season. And, further, though perhaps easier to point to things beyond us rather than in us, it is also a good thing when the Great Gardner prunes from our lives those things that make us less whole, less caring, less selfless, less joyful, less empathetic…less life-giving parts of the whole…on which our community is built. Though in Easter and not Lent, the work of naming and giving to God that which makes us sorrowful…that which holds us back and keeps us in bondage…that is…what needs to be pruned from our lives…is always, everyday our spiritual work.
Thus, whether looking macro…the Church as a whole…or micro…our own lives lived within the church…pruning, even if hard and, at times, painful…for pruning is often done with sharp instruments…is an immeasurable blessing…it is a good and gracious gift…never forgetting that the Great Gardner…is love. Thus, as Jesus suggests and the green thumbs in our life attest, pruning always leads to greater flower and fruit production. Friends…I know this to be true in my life. I have been pruned…and I am more fully alive for it. And, I imagine my last season of pruning is not behind me. In fact, I hope it is not…for I believe my life has even more tasty and satisfying vintages still to produce. Further, I really believe…this will be true not just for St. Julian’s but for the whole church as well. For following this season of pruning that we, indeed, are in…will lead to a season of new growth. Our witness in the world to the love of God and the hope of resurrection will only be increased because of God’s pruning, as those who are attracted to our new fragrant flowers and good fruit are drawn in…only to be uplifted and fed with all manner of good things. And this is what is so wondrous about the ecosystems and symbiotic relationships that exist in God’s natural and supernatural worlds…those who we uplift and feed from our healthy and life-giving branches become partners who help us spread the pollen and seeds we produce to the four winds…and the vine grows…unendingly. And, the world is revived…or to use a church word…there will be…revival.
On the screen is a picture of a stained-glass window in the Upper School Chapel at St. Andrew’s, where my wife is Chaplain and where my kids go to school. In particular, it is an image of St. Julian. Though they may exist, I am not aware of any other St. Julian stained glass windows in the Diocese of Texas. And, of course, having a foot in both communities…that is being the Vicar of St. Julian’s and spouse of the Chaplain at St. Andrew’s…this window has always been a meaningful symbol for me that we, at St. Julian’s, are a part of something much bigger than ourselves alone. And that something also shows up in the window…perhaps you can see running through the window is also branches and fruit hanging from a vine. And, if we were standing together in that chapel, you would immediately note that the vine runs through all the windows in the chapel…in and around all of the various saints whose images live in their many windows, including, the great window behind the altar…encircling the chapel, and those who stand in it, in an unending vine whose beginning and end is found in Jesus.
Jesus says to us today, “I am the vine. You are the branches”. Friends, though we, the Church, have an important role to play…a role made stronger by God’s gracious pruning…a role in producing the flowers and fruit that grows from our communal and individual branches that shoot forth from the vine, who is Jesus. But, the reason I have complete faith that revival is coming…that is the world’s reviving is coming…is because of my faith in the vine…not the branches…or, better said, not only the branches. For the vine is an invisible string of love…that connects all that is…one to another…connected not only by genes or elements found in a periodic table…but the unending, unbreakable love of God in Christ Jesus, who is the true vine in which we are rooted…who is our beginning and will be our end…and who is always, even now, leading us to revival…to the reviving of the world. Amen.
