We continue this Sunday with last week's imagery of the Vine and the branches. Several of you spoke with me on your way out last week about your own growing up in places where there are vines and vineyards-it's always fascinating what we learn about one another, isn't it? You can't tell by looking what someone's carrying around in the way of life experience and knowledge. What a rich treasure we are, this household of saints, this particular patch of God's great vineyard.

I also learned that some of you are quite familiar with south Texas, that area where the Mustang grapes grow, and asked me to name the town where Bishop Huie grew up and picked grapes. So, l asked her and the answer is: Beeville, Texas. I hope that means something to somebody here today.

Today's verses are a continuation of the passage we heard last week from the 15th chapter of John's Gospel. You might remember that all of this chapter 15 is part of what is known as Jesus' Final Discourse, that is, the last sermon or teaching he gave his disciples before his arrest and crucifixion. The last chance he would have to try and get his disciples to really understand all that he wanted them to know. When I was a campus minister years ago, we sponsored on campus the Last Lecture Series, in which we invited distinguished professors to prepare and deliver what their very last lecture might be, their parting shot. Week after week, they shared the distilled wisdom of years and years of teaching and reflection. And it usually all boiled down to a few fairly straightforward, simple, profound observations about the things that are really the most important from the perspective of their particular discipline.

We need to hear Jesus' words in today's reading in this same sort of perspective. This is truly his last lecture. The heart of the matter as he saw it. The things you say to those most precious to you when you know that these might be the last words you say or the last words they will hear.

So, spend some time with these chapters of John's Gospel. And then, when someone asks you, "What is this Christian faith really all about? Why are you a Christian? What do you believe?", here's what you can say, "It's about living in God's love and therefore loving everybody. Totally. As Jesus loved us. Even unto death if it comes to that, but more importantly, perhaps day in and day out on this side of life."

You know, Jesus went ahead and gave his life so we'd get it. He gave us the sacraments so we'd live in God's love. He wanted us to know that the relationship between God and himself is the same relationship as between him and us, the church. I am the vine and you are the branches. As God loved me, so I love you; abide in my love.

That word "abide" is kind of old-fashioned, isn't it? Abide in my love. Actually, it's all throughout John's version of the Good News. You'll really hear it in the King James Version: "Teacher, where do you abide?" "They abode with him that day." "Jesus abode with them for two days." "In my Father's house are many abiding places." "My Father and I will come and abide with you."

The Gospel of John is very much about abiding-where Jesus abides and where and how we, who believe in him, shall abide. Now, we know from the gospels that this abiding wasn't about a place. Where shall I live? Bethlehem? Jerusalem? Capernaum? Culver City? The Palisades? Santa Monica? And was that Ocean Park or north of Montana? No. This abiding is not about our address or our zip code. But it is about the primary place of residence of our heart and soul. Jesus' kind of abiding was not about place, but about presence. We abide in God's love, just as Jesus did. And through that love, Jesus abides in us. This is how we know our identity, how we know who and whose we are and where we find life. Together, we abide in Christ as he abides in us, as he abides in God. That's how we can say that we live in God's love . . . and, therefore, we extend that love to everybody. Our love bears fruit, to continue that vine imagery, in the sharing of God's love with others.

Now, I suppose if we would all just do that-abide in God's love-then that love would overflow to all we meet and the perfect church community would be created: loving, welcoming, accepting, inclusive, selfless, missional. Where all would be so secure and free in the love of God through Christ, that we would be free to extend that love to others. But evidently, from those first disciples until now, it didn't just happen automatically! Jesus had to make it a commandment to us. One that's repeated a couple times in these few short verses: "This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. I am giving you these commands so that you may love one another."

Somehow, don't we know, believing that we are loved and loving others just doesn't come easy to most of us. Our life experiences, our birth families, life in this crazy world of ours, lots of things conspire to convince us otherwise. And just because we come to church most Sundays doesn't necessarily do it either. It's a strange thing, perhaps, but most Christians, except for those few natural-born saints among us, must work at loving and at letting ourselves know we are loved through and through.

Now, I did a little research on the Mustang grape that we started with last week, because several of you told me you'd never heard of such a thing. You know of Muscadet grapes, but not Mustang. So, I looked it up. Not that I thought the good bishop might be leading us astray, but . . . it seemed wise to check it out. And sure enough, I learned a couple more things about Mustang grapes that can help us understand just what Jesus is trying to get across here.

There is, indeed, such a thing as the Mustang grape. They've grown wild in Texas since before the 1500s, when the Spanish missionaries first recorded their presence. They're officially known as vitis Mustangensis, which you know must be a fact because it's Latin. But here's more. These vines are tenacious and aggressive. They can send out runners up to 300 feet in length. You know, isn't this just like the church, growing tenaciously and aggressively from that first motley band of disciples who heard Jesus' Last Lecture, growing over time and all around this globe to be the church as we know it today? Still growing. Still sending out strong, new runners. In fact, did you see that article in the paper yesterday about how the whole gravitational center of the church has changed from Western Europe to Asia and Africa? God is sending out powerful new runners, and so God's church continues to grow and change.

Now, this does mean that just like those persistent Mustang grapevines that must be seriously pruned back sometimes, so the church, at times, is pruned by God. Another one of you last week, clearly much more of a gardener than I, pointed out that "pruning is an art." That in reference to the verse we heard last week, in which God is referred to as the gardener who prunes the branch that bears no fruit. And so it is. Just like with the vines, Jesus knew that God would definitely have to prune us back sometimes, artfully, to ensure that we would bear the best fruit and not just run amok. Maybe this is just the season when God is pruning his vines to get us in shape for a bountiful harvest in the future.

But here's the really great thing I learned about Mustang grapes. One vintner put it this way: "They taste simply awful; but their wine is very respectful." The thing is, these Mustang grapes are so acidic and tart that just plopping them into your mouth is not a very pleasant experience. They must be sweetened, then their jelly and juice is a pleasure to be enjoyed.

So, maybe a lot of us are like that, too. We need some sweetening up. We need a good strong measure of God's amazing love in Christ Jesus to transform us into the loving friends we're created to be. Only when we're part of that alchemy of love, do we ourselves produce the fruit of the Spirit-abiding, enduring, steadfast love for others. Jesus said, "Abide in me, as I abide in the Father. Abide in me, as I abide in you. And so abiding, you are no longer servants but have become friends."

Dear friends, God through Christ has chosen us, you and me, sometimes wild and acidic as we may be, feisty, persistent, long-suffering . . . God has chosen us to be the conduit through which the greatest love ever known flows out to this hurting world. God works through us to bring forth amazing fruit of justice and mercy as peace and joy to his people. God in Christ, the Vine. We, the branches, abiding in his love. Thanks be to God. Amen.