FIFTH SUNDAY OF EASTER

APRIL 28, 2024

GOSPEL MEDITATION

My friend and fellow pastor, Father Paul, noticed unsightly, overgrown trees near his parish church. He asked the maintenance crew to cut back the growth, which they happily did, telling him the trees would be much healthier and even fuller after a good pruning. A few days later, Father Paul received a letter from an irate man in the neighborhood who wrote, “Jesus would never prune trees like that. He loves trees, unlike you.”

I suspect that the neighbor was not familiar with this week’s Gospel in which Jesus says of his Father, “He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit” (John 15:2) I don’t mean to pick too much on that fellow. He was perhaps ignorant of arboriculture. But I’d wager his main confusion was the pruning and removing quality of God’s love. That confusion afflicts us all to some degree, doesn’t it? It is just so darn easy to react negatively when God cuts some-thing out of our lives and assume it’s not his work at all. In the moment, all we see is the loss, and not the loving desire for future flourishing.

The cross is the great pruning of Christ’s body. Jesus’ rising is the brand-new growth. It is God’s promise to us that all the painful pruning in life is leading us somewhere beautiful. What has been cut back or out in your life? A friend, an opportunity, a sense of certainty, a job, health, a relationship? This week, of-fer those dry branches to the one who lovingly prunes us in order to make our lives burst with verdant growth.—

– Father John Muir

A FAMILY PERSPECTIVE

Like the vine grower in today’s gospel, parents must “prune and cleanse” the branches in their family if their children are going to be rooted. Discipline, limits and setting goals are a necessary part of parenting so our children will grow and “bear fruit.”

– Bud Ozar

EVERYDAY STEWARDSHIP

“That’s a really beautiful tree branch. Man, would you look at the bark on that thing? The others are real duds, but that low-hanging branch has really got it all together.”

I’ve never heard anyone say this. Maybe I just need to hang out with more arborists, but I can’t recall ever hearing someone admire the particular beauty of a single branch. When someone comments on a tree, it’s usually the whole tree — perhaps a visual element of it, like the color of the leaves or its height. But people don’t usually zero in on one branch.

Maybe that’s because usually, if one branch is looking a little weak, chances are every other branch is, too.

The Bible tells us that when we bear fruit as good everyday stewards, it is for the Father’s glory. We are the branch on His magnificent tree. What we have is from Him, and what we do likewise points back to Him. We also tend to reflect how well the other branches around us are incorporating the nutrients coming their way. That’s all fine and good in theory. In practice, it can be an arduous exercise in humility.

When I do something virtuous or charitable or kind, there is a part of me that wants to stand out for it. I think that’s true for all of us. We’ve given of ourselves in some way or overcome some human temptation to accomplish a little bit of good in this world, and even though we know God sees us, we’d really love for everyone else to see it, too.

– 2024 Catholic Stewardship Consultants

PRACTICING CATHOLIC – RECOGNIZE GOD IN YOUR ORDINARY MOMENTS

It’s a Wonderful Life is one of my favorite Christmas movies. It only occurred to me recently, though, that this film, for all its yuletide aesthetic, is actually more of an Easter story.

I love this movie because it’s a very Catholic film — not overtly, although we do see the main character, George Bailey, going to Mass. No, it’s the themes that are Catholic, not the set dressing. It’s a story about the choices we make — to love, or not to love? To sacrifice, or not to sacrifice? To put oneself first, or to put oneself last? It’s a story about what the consequences of those choices look like here in the world, and what they look like in heaven.

In the film, we meet a young George Bailey who dreams of growing up to do amazing, impressive things. Over the years, he makes a choice here and he makes a choice there … and when all is said and done, the adult George Bailey is a tired, overworked husband and father with no worldly attributes that anyone would envy.

But he’s a man who has loved in deed, not just in word, and who has reaped the spiritual rewards of those choices.

The season of Easter is about rejoicing in true redemption, not in worldly triumph. The Word of God is not a bedtime story. It’s a pruning shear. To hear it is to be changed, to be shaped. To live it is to lose some things, so that you might bloom in unexpected ways. To welcome the Word is to be willing to look different, to feel different.

Anyone can say, “I love you, I accept you, I want to help you.” But what does it actually look like, to love in deed and not just in word? It looks like giving something up: free time, wealth, comfort, worldly approval. It looks, to the casual observer, like pain.

To someone who has no concept of how plants grow and thrive, a gardener’s pruning shears look like an executioner’s sword. To someone who has no concept of how souls grow and thrive, a tomb barred by a stone looks like the end of a story, when in fact it’s just the beginning.

“Children, let us love not in word or speech, but in deed and truth.” — 1 John 3:18