will of her father.”
My smile froze on my face.
He gave me a look that gently warned me I was about to learn something. Then he directed his attention to the crew of laborers in the field. “Truly, I tell you, the tax collectors and harlots will get into the Kingdom of Heaven before the hypocrites.” He paused. “I saw you by the Jordan the day you came to hear John preach. Our friend John came walking in the way of an upright man in right standing with God, and they did not believe him. But tax collectors and harlots did believe him. And the religious hypocrites, even when they saw that, did not afterward change their minds and believe John’s call to repentance.”2
I felt color climb to my cheeks. Just that quickly I had become the subject of a lesson. And just that quickly I had been humbled.
Jesus asked me, “I saw you then at the wedding at Cana.”
I nodded. “The wine. I never tasted anything so rich. So full of character. I’ve wanted to ask you how … from what vines? What soil? I’ve pondered the wine I tasted that night and have never come up with a logical answer.”
Jesus replied, “Mary tells me you own vineyards near Jerusalem.”
“I do. Not so many acres as Mary.”
“Have you finished your pruning?” he asked.
“The work of pruning is never really finished. To come here I left the care of my vineyard in the good hands of my vinedresser. He will do the job.”
Jesus nodded. “We’re mostly fishermen here … and one carpenter,” he added in an aside that made several chuckle. “We have no real knowledge of grapes and vineyards, or how the grapes become good wine or … bad wine. Teach us. And why must vines be pruned, my friend?”
I considered his question. Surely there was a trap set for me. “First, the dead canes must be cut off in this season when the vine is sleeping. This season … you see the workers there … the pruning is severe. Down to the trunk of the vine. Dead canes will not bear fruit and so must be cut off first. In another month or so, depending on the weather, there will be bud break. The vine will produce new, healthy shoots. New growth will bear fruit.”
Jesus asked, as though he did not know, “Is the job of the vinedresser finished when he cuts away these dead branches?”
“Well … no. Through the growing season, we train the branches. Set them in the best position to expose fruit to the sun. Thin the leaves that block the sun from the berries; break off clusters that will never ripen evenly. They only steal the life of the vine from the good clusters. The vinedresser cuts away excess foliage to concentrate the life of the vine into the best berries that will make the finest quality wine. The vine can’t nourish the new growth properly … the quality of the grapes is not as good … if the vine must also support the weight of dead wood or wild tendrils that don’t bear fruit or only produce showy foliage. So, to answer your question, pruning goes on all through the life of the vine.”
“Exactly.” Jesus nodded and leaned forward to gaze directly into my eyes. More than that, he looked into my heart.
Then he spoke to us all: “I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser. Any branch that doesn’t bear fruit, he cuts away. And he cleanses and repeatedly prunes every branch that continues to bear fruit, to make it bear more and richer and more excellent fruit. Just as no branch can bear fruit of itself without abiding in the vine, neither can you bear fruit unless you abide in me. I am the Vine; you are the branches. Whoever lives in me and I in him bears only the best fruit. However, if you are cut off from me, you can do nothing. If a person doesn’t dwell in me, he is thrown out like a broken-off branch. He withers, and such branches are gathered up and thrown into the fire and burned.” He gestured to a tribe of little boys gathering the broken sticks and heaping them into a pile for burning.
Jesus continued, “If you live in me, abide vitally united with my life, and my words remain in your hearts, ask whatever you will and it shall be done for you. When you bear much fruit,