John 15:1,
6-16. I am the true vine, and my Father is the vine-grower … I am the vine, you
are the branches. As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you; abide in my
love…
I’ve just returned from the Bishop’s Ranch, a
diocesan retreat center that sits atop a little hill in northern California’s
wine country. From the veranda, one can look out over seemingly endless rolling
hills lined with seemingly endless rows of grapevines. Because the angle of the
sun is different on each of those hilltops, because the rain pools in the
valleys, because the minerals in the soil are ever-changing, the grapes that
grow on each hill and in each valley have their own particularities. I have learned
that the characteristics of the grapes that grow on the vines in one row can be
altogether different from the grapes in a row just a stone’s throw away.
Winemakers call this terroir… a sense of place. Terroir describes the reality
that grapes grown on a particular patch of ground express the characteristics
of the place where they are grown, the place where they abide.
That’s true for people too. Children who grow up
knowing that they belong, that they are treasured, that they are connected to
God and to all of God’s creation usually exhibit characteristics very different
from children who grow up outside the bounds of a loving community that
reflects for them their value. And adults who find their way into loving
community experience life very differently from those who are isolated and
alone because they are not connected with anyone at a deep and soulful level.
“I am the true vine and my Father is the vine-grower,” Jesus said. “I am the
vine, you are the branches.” We cannot truly live apart from these loving and
life-giving connections. We were created to be deeply connected to God, to
God’s people, and to all of creation. Those connections are made from love,
yes… but they also create and deepen our love. Just like the grapes that take
on the characteristics of their own little patch of ground, we take on the
character of God’s love when God’s love is our terroir.
Loving God, as we journey through what often feels
like the solitary desert wilderness of Lent, help us to be mindful of the ever
deepening connections you are calling us into. Walk with us, helping us always
to remember that we live in your love and that you are our home. Amen.
— The Rev. Karen Haig
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