Sermons

• The Vine – The Rev. Dcn. Sue Bonsteel

  April 28, 2024

  A few years ago, a close friend had to travel out of state and thought she’d be gone for a month or more. I asked if I could watch over her house while she was away. It meant doing the everyday things that we all do when we take care of our own homes, such as collecting the mail, watering the houseplants, making sure windows and doors were secure, and double-checking that a coffeepot wasn’t inadvertently left plugged in…these certainly weren’t difficult jobs…but instead were the type of helpful things we might do for the people we are connected to and care about.

  The month unexpectedly turned into an indefinite amount of time for my friend who was seriously ill and remained hospitalized far from her home. It was an uncertain time since no one yet knew what the outcome might be but all of her friends were hopeful. A courageous and strong woman, she was determined to return home as soon as she could. So we kicked the St. John’s prayer chain into gear as we waited for good news.

  But what none of us had fully anticipated was that our friend’s delay in coming home meant that her lovely backyard deck and garden would need a great deal of attention as the weather changed. The leaves on the trees were changing color and beginning to fall on the lawn. The abundance of colorful blossoms that had once filled the patio pots were turning brown and wilting, no matter how many times they were moved around to catch the waning hours of sunlight.

  As you might guess, it was a bittersweet time. The uncertainty about when our beloved friend would be able to make the trip back to Kingston was like a dark cloud hanging over us. Worry and hope were intertwined. And while the wooden deck and the artful arrangement of flowers had always been a joyful oasis for our friend, it also became a constant reminder of what was likely going to be a challenging future for someone we loved.

  But I had made a promise to my friend. And, to be perfectly honest, I needed to feel as if I was doing something to help in her recovery. It’s such a helpless feeling to know that someone you care about is suffering and there is little you can do about it. I suspect we’ve all been in that moment. Sometimes the best we can offer are our prayers.

  I’m not always a patient person and sitting around wasn’t helping her or me. I also needed to keep busy, so I continued to put suet cakes in the feeder for the birds my friend loved to watch each morning. I swept away leaves from the front steps in anticipation of the day when she would return to her home. I hung around so often I made friends with her neighbors who offered help with trash cans and snow shoveling. And as the months passed, it was clear that there was nothing else left to do but empty and put away the pots that once held the gorgeous flowers that were now well past their prime. The deck – once a showpiece of my friend’s hard work and appreciation for God’s abundance  – lost much of its charm when all that was left to see were dried up vines that had wrapped themselves tightly around the supports and the railings.

  One afternoon, while checking on a plant by the kitchen window, I was quite surprised to see a rather large, thick vine that had wound its way along the full length of the deck. Judging by its size, it had obviously been there for quite some time. And I wondered, why hadn’t I noticed it before?

  There was something quite beautiful and organic about the stark image of the vine trailing along the gray deck on a rather cold, gray day. As I looked closer, I realized that it was just one single strong stalk that seemed to be firmly rooted in the earth. Apparently, it was the sole support for many smaller branches that had sprung to life under and around the deck, probably for many years.

  The broad green leaves that offered privacy and shade in the warmer months – and now were at rest for the winter – likely wouldn’t have survived without the strength and nourishment of the larger stalk. The entire vine remained connected so that it could be healthy and productive for the coming seasons. So, I walked around and collected the decayed and broken branches that had fallen onto the ground and threw them into the woods. They were no longer part of the vine nor could they bear any leaves. And although I was tempted to trim some of the overhanging branches, a voice in my head told me not to touch them. It wasn’t my decision to make about which branches might become fruitful.

  There’s a timely lesson in this beautiful gospel passage as we consider our own connected-ness as we face a future that appears somewhat uncertain. Our beloved rector Michelle is leaving after almost 8 years and, while we wish her well in all that is ahead for her, we have many questions.

  Where will we get our strength and our nourishment in the coming months? How do we continue to be a productive community? Who will lead us? Guide us? Teach us? Care for us?

  These are indeed important questions and they are all questions that have been asked before here at St. John’s during times of transitions. But that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be asked again. For over many years that I have served on vestries, as a warden and then a deacon, I have learned that the answers are not always the same. For faith communities grow and evolve in ways sometimes not anticipated and a truly healthy and vibrant parish is called to be responsive to change.

  

  Jesus: Faith, Hope, Love, Peace (mural in Chicago, IL)

  I admit that it doesn’t mean it will be easy. And it really doesn’t tell us how to manage the anxiety and fears that may arise about the journey you and I will soon begin. But this is where our faith comes in.

  The Collect for today points us to a clue in a few brief words – Jesus Christ is the way, the truth, and the life. What will sustain us in the days to come is our connection to one another, our care for one another and our devotion to Jesus Christ who John tells us is the true vine …and from whom we, the branches, will have all that we need to survive and even prosper.

  Take a minute and think about why you came here and why you remain. Each one of us entered these church doors for a reason. Perhaps we were looking for a church home for ourselves and our family. Perhaps we were seeking a place of peace and solace from a chaotic world. Or maybe we sought counseling or guidance. Some of us were led here because we wished to be married or have a child baptized or even be baptized ourselves. Or perhaps we were just simply coming from another faith tradition and were wondering what the big deal was with the Episcopal Church!

  We made a choice to remain here because we felt a deep affection for this place in which we worship and pray and sing and serve and care for one another. As a result of our decision, each of us became an important and unique branch of this beloved community of disciples. Our warden Leah reminds us that as we move forward, it will be important for us to show up to help keep our community connected and strong.

  I know we can do this. I know that we can because I learned how from an incredibly courageous and determined friend who kept hope alive and confronted challenges as they appeared. It was what allowed her to live many years beyond what many expected. As you may already know, Elaine died on Friday.  Her legacy is one of love, grace, courage, and a deep faith in God. May she rest in peace and may we – her parish family- honor her memory as together we look to the future with hope.