In the presbytery garden beside our church there are two beautiful old gnarly vines, cuttings apparently from the vine in the English college in Rome. It’s a vigorous and fairly unruly plant which often has to have its straying branches snipped off, even in the middle of summer to stop it blocking the path from the sacristy, a priest should not have to fight a vine to process into the church.
The lifecycle of that vine tells us so much about the life of faith. It’s first signs of transformation come after a hard pruning early in the year, old and diseased wood is cut off and removed, this isn’t going to bare any fruit and will sap energy needed for the productive shoots, the buds below the cuts will produce three or more fruitful shoots in place of the one that has been removed. The old has to make way for the new on the vine and in us.
Those cuts exude a sap, known by vine dressers as bleeding, but these as yet unsealed wounds are heralding the imminent onset of Budbreak. The healing comes as the fresh green shoots emerge from the bud scales, the small insignificant looking lumps on the branch that have protected them from the cold all winter. Fear of frost is still high, a time of vulnerability when an icy turn could return the vine back into dormancy. The buds up till now were hidden by the old wood, it takes courage to step out with out the protection of the familiar. We have to wait for Gods perfect timing.
By June those buds have started to produce flower clusters, not a stunning show by any standards, but the purpose of the vine is not for a superficial visual show but for an abundant harvest of fruit. The flowers with little scent or colour attract few insects but are pollinated by the wind. The fertility rests in the hand of the creator rather than the unpredictable created.
By late summer the vine shoots enter into maturity and the colours of the leaves change to blood reds and bruised purples as they surrender their green sweetness to reimburse the roots that supported their growth. One shoot can never repay the vine for all it has received but it’s dependency ensures a continuation of fruit identical in nature and quality to the stock on which it comes from. As the leaves fall this fruit becomes increasingly evident, the time of harvest comes when the acidity and bitterness is balanced with the right amount of sweetness. The branches and the vine then go into a place of dormancy surviving on all that has been gained through the days of light and warmth ready to start again with a pruning of the old unproductive wood.
As for the fruit, well for the most part it’s flesh is crushed and bruised to give out its essence so that all may be nourished from the vine. The vine dresser, having tamed the spirit of its branches and nurtured its growth ensures its continued future.
