_THE VINE AND THE BRANCHES._
"Arise, let us go hence. I am the true Vine, and My Father is the
Husbandman. Every branch in Me that beareth not fruit, He taketh it
away: and every branch that beareth fruit, He cleanseth it, that it
may bear more fruit. Already ye are clean because of the word which
I have spoken unto you. Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch
cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine; so neither
can ye, except ye abide in Me. I am the Vine, ye are the branches:
He that abideth in Me, and I in him, the same beareth much fruit:
for apart from Me ye can do nothing. If a man abide not in Me, he is
cast forth as a branch, and is withered; and they gather them, and
cast them into the fire, and they are burned. If ye abide in Me, and
My words abide in you, ask whatsoever ye will, and it shall be done
unto you. Herein is My Father glorified, that ye bear much fruit;
and so shall ye be My disciples. Even as the Father hath loved Me, I
also have loved you; abide ye in My love. If ye keep My
commandments, ye shall abide in My love; even as I have kept My
Father's commandments, and abide in His love. These things have I
spoken unto you, that My joy may be in you, and that your joy may be
fulfilled. This is My commandment, that ye love one another, even as
I have loved you."--JOHN xiv. 31-xv. 12.
Like a friend who cannot tear himself away and has many more last words
after he has bid us good-bye, Jesus continues speaking to the disciples
while they are selecting and putting on their sandals and girding
themselves to face the chill night air. He had to all appearance said
all He meant to say. He had indeed closed the conversation with the
melancholy words, "Henceforth I will not talk much with you." He had
given the signal for breaking up the feast and leaving the house, rising
from table Himself and summoning the rest to do the same. But as He saw
their reluctance to move, and the alarmed and bewildered expression that
hung upon their faces, He could not but renew His efforts to banish
their forebodings and impart to them intelligent courage to face
separation from Him. All He had said about His spiritual presence with
them had fallen short: they could not as yet understand it. They were
possessed with the dread of losing Him whose future was their future,
and with the success of whose plans all their hopes were bound up. The
prospect of losing Him was too dreadful; and though He had assured them
He would still be with them, there was an appearance of mystery and
unreality about that presence which prevented them from trusting it.
They knew they could effect nothing if He left them: their work was
done, their hopes blighted.
As Jesus, then, rises, and as they all fondly cluster round Him, and as
He recognises once more how much He is to these men, there occurs to His
mind an allegory which may help the disciples to understand better the
connection they have with Him, and how it is still to be maintained. It
has been supposed that this allegory was suggested to Him by some vine
trailing round the doorway or by some other visible object, but such
outward suggestion is needless. Recognising their fears and difficulties
and dependence on Him as they hung upon Him for the last time, what more
natural than that He should meet their dependence and remove their fears
of real separation by saying, "I am the Vine, ye the branches"? What
more natural, when He wished to set vividly before them the importance
of the work He was bequeathing to them, and to stimulate them faithfully
to carry on what He had begun, than to say, "I am the Vine, ye the
fruit-bearing branches: abide in Me, and I in you"?
Doubtless our Lord's introduction of the word "true" or "real"--"I am
the true Vine"--implies a comparison with other vines, but not
necessarily with any vines then outwardly visible. Much more likely is
it that as He saw the dependence of His disciples upon Him, He saw new
meaning in the old and familiar idea that Israel was the vine planted by
God. He saw that in Himself[17] and His disciples all that had been
suggested by this figure was in reality accomplished. God's intention in
creating man was fulfilled. It was secured by the life of Christ and by
the attachment of men to Him that the purpose of God in creation would
bear fruit. That which amply satisfied God was now in actual existence
in the person and attractiveness of Christ. Seizing upon the figure of
the vine as fully expressing this, Christ fixes it for ever in the mind
of His disciples as the symbol of His connection with them, and with a
few decisive strokes He gives prominence to the chief characteristics of
this connection.
I. The first idea, then, which our Lord wished to present by means of
this allegory is, that He and His disciples together form one whole,
neither being complete without the other. The vine can bear no fruit if
it has no branches; the branches cannot live apart from the vine.
Without the branches the stem is a fruitless pole; without the stem the
branches wither and die. Stem and branches together constitute one
fruit-bearing tree. I, for my part, says Christ, am the Vine; ye are the
branches, neither perfect without the other, the two together forming
one complete tree, essential to one another as stem and branches.
The significance underlying the figure is obvious, and no more welcome
or animating thought could have reached the heart of the disciples as
they felt the first tremor of separation from their Lord. Christ, in His
own visible person and by His own hands and words, was no longer to
extend His kingdom on earth. He was to continue to fulfil God's purpose
among men, no longer however in His own person, but through His
disciples. They were now to be His branches, the medium through which He
could express all the life that was in Him, His love for man, His
purpose to lift and save the world. Not with His own lips was He any
longer to tell men of holiness and of God, not with His own hand was He
to dispense blessing to the needy ones of earth, but His disciples were
now to be the sympathetic interpreters of His goodness and the
unobstructed channels through which He might still pour out upon men all
His loving purpose. As God the Father is a Spirit and needs human hands
to do actual deeds of mercy for Him, as He does not Himself in His own
separate personality make the bed of the sick poor, but does it only
through the intervention of human charity, so can Christ speak no
audible word in the ear of the sinner, nor do the actual work required
for the help and advancement of men. This He leaves to His disciples,
His part being to give them love and perseverance for it, to supply them
with all they need as His branches.
This, then, is the last word of encouragement and of quickening our Lord
leaves with these men and with us: I leave you to do all for Me; I
entrust you with this gravest task of accomplishing in the world all I
have prepared for by My life and death. This great end, to attain which
I thought fit to leave the glory I had with the Father, and for which I
have spent all--this I leave in your hands. It is in this world of men
the whole results of the Incarnation are to be found, and it is on you
the burden is laid of applying to this world the work I have done. You
live for Me. But on the other hand I live for you. "Because I live, ye
shall live also." I do not really leave you. If I say, "Abide in Me," I
none the less say, "and I in you." It is in you I spend all the Divine
energy you have witnessed in my life. It is through you I live. I am the
Vine, the life-giving Stem, sustaining and quickening you. Ye are the
branches, effecting what I intend, bearing the fruit for the sake of
which I have been planted in the world by My Father, the Husbandman.
II. The second idea is that this unity of the tree is formed by unity
_of life_. It is a unity brought about, not by mechanical juxtaposition,
but by organic relationship. "As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself,
but must abide in the vine, so neither can ye except ye abide in Me." A
ball of twine or a bag of shot cannot be called a whole. If you cut off
a yard of the twine, the part cut off has all the qualities and
properties of the remainder, and is perhaps more serviceable apart from
the rest than in connection with it. A handful of shot is more
serviceable for many purposes than a bagful, and the quantity you take
out of the bag retains all the properties it had while in the bag;
because there is _no common life_ in the twine or in the shot, making
all the particles one whole. But take anything which is a true unity or
whole--your body, for example. Different results follow here from
separation. Your eye is useless taken from its place in the body. You
can lend a friend your knife or your purse, and it may be more
serviceable in his hands than in yours; but you cannot lend him your
arms or your ears. Apart from yourself, the members of your body are
useless, because here there is one common life forming one organic
whole.
It is thus in the relation of Christ and His followers. He and they
together form one whole, _because_ one common _life_ unites them. "_As_
the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, so neither can ye." Why can the
branch bear no fruit except it abide in the vine? Because it is a
_vital_ unity that makes the tree one. And what is a vital unity between
persons? It can be nothing else than a spiritual unity--a unity not of
a bodily kind, but inward and of the spirit. In other words, _it is a
unity of purpose and of resources for attaining that purpose_. The
branch is one with the tree because it draws its life from the tree and
bears the fruit proper to the tree. We are one with Christ when we adopt
His purpose in the world as the real governing aim of our life, and when
we renew our strength for the fulfilment of that purpose by fellowship
with His love for mankind and His eternal purpose to bless men.
We must be content, then, to be branches. We must be content not to
stand isolated and grow from a private root of our own. We must utterly
renounce selfishness. Successful selfishness is absolutely impossible.
The greater the apparent success of selfishness is, the more gigantic
will the failure one day appear. An arm severed from the body, a branch
lopped off the tree, is the true symbol of the selfish man. He will be
left behind as the true progress of mankind proceeds, with no part in
the common joy, stranded and dying in cold isolation. We must learn that
our true life can only be lived when we recognise that we are parts of a
great whole, that we are here not to prosecute any private interest of
our own and win a private good for ourselves, but to forward the good
that others share in and the cause that is common.
How this unity is formed received no explanation on this occasion. The
manner in which men become branches of the true Vine was not touched
upon in the allegory. Already the disciples were branches, and no
explanation was called for. It may, however, be legitimate to gather a
hint from the allegory itself regarding the formation of the living bond
between Christ and His people. However ignorant we may be of the
propagation of fruit trees and the processes of grafting we can at any
rate understand that no mere tying of a branch to a tree, bark to bark,
would effect anything save the withering of the branch. The branch, if
it is to be fruitful, must form a solid part of the tree, must be
grafted so as to become of one structure and life with the stem. It must
be cut through, so as to lay bare the whole interior structure of it,
and so as to leave open all the vessels that carry the sap; and a
similar incision must be made in the stock upon which the branch is to
be grafted, so that the cut sap-vessels of the branch may be in contact
with the cut sap-vessels of the stock. Such must be our grafting into
Christ. It must be a laying bare of our inmost nature to His inmost
nature, so that a vital connection may be formed between these two. What
we expect to receive by being connected with Christ is the very Spirit
which made Him what He was. We expect to receive into the source of
conduct in us all that was the source of conduct in Him. We wish to be
in such a connection with Him that His principles, sentiments, and aims
shall become ours.
On His side Christ has laid bare His deepest feelings and spirit. In His
life and in His death He submitted to that severest operation which
seemed to be a maiming of Him, but which in point of fact was the
necessary preparation for His receiving fruitful branches. He did not
hide the true springs of His life under a hard and rough bark; but
submitting Himself to the Husbandman's knife, He has suffered us through
His wounds to see the real motives and vital spirit of His
nature--truth, justice, holiness, fidelity, love. Whatever in this life
cut our Lord to the quick, whatever tested most thoroughly the true
spring of His conduct, only more clearly showed that deepest within Him
and strongest within Him lay holy love. And He was not shy of telling
men His love for them: in the public death He died He loudly declared
it, opening His nature to the gaze of all. And to this open heart He
declined to receive none; as many as the Father gave Him were welcome;
He had none of that aversion we feel to admit all and sundry into close
relations with us. He at once gives His heart and keeps back nothing to
Himself; He invites us into the closest possible connection with Him,
with the intention that we should grow to Him and for ever be loved by
Him. Whatever real, lasting, and influential connection can be
established between two persons, this He wishes to have with us. If it
is possible for two persons so to grow together that separation in
spirit is for ever impossible, it is nothing short of this Christ seeks.
But when we turn to the cutting of the branch, we see reluctance and
vacillation and much to remind us that, in the graft we now speak of,
the Husbandman has to deal, not with passive branches which cannot
shrink from his knife, but with free and sensitive human beings. The
hand of the Father is on us to sever us from the old stock and give us a
place in Christ, but we feel it hard to be severed from the root we have
grown from and to which we are now so firmly attached. We refuse to see
that the old tree is doomed to the axe, or after we have been inserted
into Christ we loosen ourselves again and again, so that morning by
morning as the Father visits His tree He finds us dangling useless with
signs of withering already upon us. But in the end the Vinedresser's
patient skill prevails. We submit ourselves to those incisive operations
of God's providence or of His gentler but effective word which finally
sever us from what we once clung to. We are impelled to lay bare our
heart to Christ and seek the deepest and truest and most influential
union.
And even after the graft has been achieved the husbandman's care is
still needed that the branch may "abide in the vine," and that it may
"bring forth more fruit." There are two risks--the branch may be
loosened, or it may run to wood and leaves. Care is taken when a graft
is made that its permanent participation in the life of the tree be
secured. The graft is not only tied to the tree, but the point of
juncture is cased in clay or pitch or wax, so as to exclude air, water,
or any disturbing influence. Analogous spiritual treatment is certainly
requisite if the attachment of the soul to Christ is to become solid,
firm, permanent. If the soul and Christ are to be really one, nothing
must be allowed to tamper with the attachment. It must be sheltered from
all that might rudely impinge upon it and displace the disciple from the
attitude towards Christ he has assumed. When the graft and the stock
have grown together into one, then the point of attachment will resist
any shock; but, while the attachment is recent, care is needed that the
juncture be hermetically secluded from adverse influences.
The husbandman's care is also needed that after the branch is grafted it
may bring forth fruit increasingly. Stationariness is not to be
tolerated. As for fruitlessness, that is out of the question. More fruit
each season is looked for, and arranged for by the vigorous prunings of
the husbandman. The branch is not left to nature. It is not allowed to
run out in every direction, to waste its life in attaining size. Where
it seems to be doing grandly and promising success, the knife of the
vinedresser ruthlessly cuts down the flourish, and the fine appearance
lies withering on the ground. But the vintage justifies the husbandman.
III. This brings us to the third idea of the allegory--that the result
aimed at in our connection with Christ is fruit-bearing. The allegory
bids us think of God as engaged in the tendance and culture of men with
the watchful, fond interest with which the vinedresser tends his plants
through every stage of growth and every season of the year, and even
when there is nothing to be done gazes on them admiringly and finds
still some little attention he can pay them; but all in the hope of
fruit. All this interest collapses at once, all this care becomes a
foolish waste of time and material, and reflects discredit and ridicule
on the vinedresser, if there is no fruit. God has prepared for us in
this life a soil than which nothing can be better for the production of
the fruit He desires us to yield; He has made it possible for every man
to serve a good purpose; He does His part not with reluctance, but, if
we may say so, as His chief interest; but all in the expectation of
fruit. We do not spend days of labour and nights of anxious thought, we
do not lay out all we have at command, on that which is to effect
nothing and give no satisfaction to ourselves or any one else; and
neither does God. He did not make this world full of men for want of
something better to do, as a mere idle pastime. He made it that the
earth might yield her increase, that each of us might bring forth fruit.
Fruit alone can justify the expense put upon this world. The wisdom, the
patience, the love that have guided all things through the slow-moving
ages will be justified in the product. And what this product is we
already know: it is the attainment of moral perfection by created
beings. To this all that has been made and done in the past leads up.
"The whole creation groaneth and travaileth,"--for what? "For the
manifestation of the sons of God." The lives and acts of good men are
the adequate return for all past outlay, the satisfying fruit.
The production of this fruit became a certainty when Christ was planted
in the world as a new moral stem. He was sent into the world not to make
some magnificent outward display of Divine power, to carry us to some
other planet, or alter the conditions of life here. God might have
departed from His purpose of filling this earth with holy men, and might
have used it for some easier display which for the moment might have
seemed more striking. He did not do so. It was human obedience, the
fruit of genuine human righteousness, of the love and goodness of men
and women, that He was resolved to reap from earth. He was resolved to
train men to such a pitch of goodness that in a world contrived to tempt
there should be found nothing so alluring, nothing so terrifying, as to
turn men from the straight path. He was to produce a race of men who,
while still in the body, urged by appetites, assaulted by passions and
cravings, with death threatening and life inviting, should prefer all
suffering rather than flinch from duty, should prove themselves actually
superior to every assault that can be made on virtue, should prove that
spirit is greater than matter. And God set Christ in the world to be the
living type of human perfection, to attract men by their love for Him to
His kind of life, and to furnish them with all needed aid in becoming
like Him--that as Christ had kept the Father's commandments, His
disciples should keep His commandments, that thus a common
understanding, an identity of interest and moral life, should be
established between God and man.
Perhaps it is not pressing the figure too hard to remark that the fruit
differs from timber in this respect--that it enters into and nourishes
the life of man. No doubt in this allegory fruit-bearing primarily and
chiefly indicates that God's purpose in creating man is satisfied. The
tree He has planted is not barren, but fruitful. But certainly a great
distinction between the selfish and the unselfish man, between the man
who has private ambitions and the man who labours for the public good,
lies in this--that the selfish man seeks to erect a monument of some
kind for himself, while the unselfish man spends himself in labours that
are not conspicuous, but assist the life of his fellows. An oak carving
or a structure of hard wood will last a thousand years and keep in
memory the skill of the designer: fruit is eaten and disappears, but it
passes into human life, and becomes part of the stream that flows on for
ever. The ambitious man longs to execute a monumental work, and does not
much regard whether it will be for the good of men or not; a great war
will serve his turn, a great book, anything conspicuous. But he who is
content to be a branch of the True Vine will not seek the admiration of
men, but will strive to introduce a healthy spiritual life into those he
can reach, even although in order to do so he must remain obscure and
must see his labours absorbed without notice or recognition.
Does the teaching of this allegory, then, accord with the facts of life
as we know them? Is it a truth, and a truth we must act upon, that apart
from Christ we can do nothing? In what sense and to what extent is
association with Christ really necessary to us?
Something may of course be made of life apart from Christ. A man may
have much enjoyment and a man may do much good apart from Christ. He may
be an inventor, who makes human life easier or safer or fuller of
interest. He may be a literary man, who by his writings enlightens,
exhilarates, and elevates mankind. He may, with entire ignorance or
utter disregard of Christ, toil for his country or for his class or for
his cause. But the best uses and ends of human life cannot be attained
apart from Christ. Only in Him does the reunion of man with God seem
attainable, and only in Him do God and God's aim and work in the world
become intelligible. He is as necessary for the spiritual life of men as
the sun is for this physical life. We may effect something by
candle-light; we may be quite proud of electric light, and think we are
getting far towards independence; but what man in his senses will be
betrayed by these attainments into thinking we may dispense with the
sun? Christ holds the key to all that is most permanent in human
endeavour, to all that is deepest and best in human character. Only in
Him can we take our place as partners with God in what He is really
doing with this world. And only from Him can we draw courage,
hopefulness, love to prosecute this work. In Him God does reveal
Himself, and in Him the fulness of God is found by us. He is in point of
fact the one moral stem apart from whom we are not bearing and cannot
bear the fruit God desires.
If, then, we are not bringing forth fruit, it is because there is a flaw
in our connection with Christ; if we are conscious that the results of
our life and activity are not such results as He designs, and are in no
sense traceable to Him, this is because there is something about our
adherence to Him that is loose and needs rectification. Christ calls us
to Him and makes us sharers in His work; and he who listens to this call
and counts it enough to be a branch of this Vine and do His will is
upheld by Christ's Spirit, is sweetened by His meekness and love, is
purified by His holy and fearless rectitude, is transformed by the
dominant will of this Person whom he has received deepest into his soul,
and does therefore bring forth, in whatever place in life he holds, the
same kind of fruit as Christ Himself would bring forth; it is indeed
Christ who brings forth these fruits, Christ at a few steps removed--for
every Christian learns, as well as Paul, to say, "Not I, but Christ in
me." If, then, the will of Christ is not being fulfilled through us, if
there is good that it belongs to us to do, but which remains undone,
then the point of juncture with Christ is the point that needs looking
to. It is not some unaccountable blight that makes us useless; it is not
that we have got the wrong piece of the wall, a situation in which
Christ Himself could bear no precious fruit. The Husbandman knew His own
meaning when He trained us along that restricted line and nailed us
down; He chose the place for us, knowing the quality of fruit He desires
us to yield. The reason of our fruitlessness is the simple one, that we
are not closely enough attached to Christ.
How, then, is it with ourselves? By examining the results of our lives,
would any one be prompted to exclaim, "These are trees of
_righteousness_, the planting of the Lord that He may be glorified"? For
this examination is made, and made not by one who chances to pass, and
who, being a novice in horticulture, might be deceived by a show of
leaves or poor fruit, or whose examination might terminate in wonder at
the slothfulness or mismanagement of the owner who allowed such trees
to cumber his ground; but the examination is made by One who has come
for the express purpose of gathering fruit, who knows exactly what has
been spent upon us and what might have been made of our opportunities,
who has in His own mind a definite idea of the fruit that should be
found, and who can tell by a glance whether such fruit actually exists
or no. To this infallible Judge of produce what have we to offer? From
all our busy engagement in many affairs, from all our thought, what has
resulted that we can offer as a satisfactory return for all that has
been spent upon us? It is deeds of profitable service such as men of
large and loving nature would do that God seeks from us. And He
recognises without fail what is love and what only seems so. He
infallibly detects the corroding spot of selfishness that rots the whole
fair-seeming cluster. He stands undeceivable before us, and takes our
lives precisely for what they are worth.
It concerns us to make such inquiries, for fruitless branches cannot be
tolerated. The purpose of the tree is fruit. If, then, we would escape
all suspicion of our own state and all reproach of fruitlessness, what
we have to do is, not so much to find out new rules for conduct, as to
strive to renew our hold upon Christ and intelligently to enter into His
purposes. "Abide in Him." This is the secret of fruitfulness. All that
the branch needs is in the Vine; it does not need to go beyond the Vine
for anything. When we feel the life of Christ ebbing from our soul, when
we see our leaf fading, when we feel sapless, heartless for Christian
duty, reluctant to work for others, to take anything to do with the
relief of misery and the repression of vice, there is a remedy for this
state, and it is to renew our fellowship with Christ--to allow the mind
once again to conceive clearly the worthiness of His aims, to yield the
heart once again to the vitalising influence of His love, to turn from
the vanities and futilities with which men strive to make life seem
important to the reality and substantial worth of the life of Christ. To
abide in Christ is to abide by our adoption of His view of the true
purpose of human life after testing it by actual experience; it is to
abide by our trust in Him as the true Lord of men, and as able to supply
us with all that we need to keep His commandments. And thus abiding in
Christ we are sustained by Him; for He abides in us, imparts to us, His
branches now on earth, the force which is needful to accomplish His
purposes.