On useless vines

 

I’ve shared before about the lessons I’ve learned about discipleship from being an amateur vinedresser. This year I got another lesson, and a very timely one.

Our vines seemed to be doing well this year, almost flourishing (except on the side that is regrowing, but even that was doing well enough.) I noticed that some vines were intertwining among the forsythia that grows nearby, even extending through the pine that stands over by the road. The vine was reaching almost two stories up the branches! I’d known that the vines had grown wild around the property before we moved in, and figured that some roots had sprouted. I thought little about the rogue vines – I had no intention of trying to cultivate them.

When the clusters ripened on the tended vines, I was a bit surprised at how modest our harvest was. The grapes were all good, with little lost to mold or other damage, there were just fewer clusters than I’d expected. Even last year we’d been able to get three jam batches out of fewer vines; this year we just made two.  It was good jam, there just wasn’t as much as I’d been expecting.

It was when I was doing one of the last lawn mowings of the season that I almost tripped (literally) on the issue with the scant yield: a rather sizable stem shooting from the roots of my cultivated vines over into the base of the forsythia. I’m accustomed to roots and low-running stems around the base of the vines, but this seemed like a much longer stem. I examined the stem, and thought about how relatively few grapes I’d harvested, and considered how bountiful and flourishing those rogue vines were, and then went for my axe.

My vines had sprouted a fruitless offshoot that had gone mad all summer. It wasn’t the wild growth that was the problem, it was the fact that the wild growth had taken place at the expense of the crop. Those vines are cultivated and tended to produce fruit, not to grow as many leaves and stems as possible in the neighboring hedge. Water and nutrients that had been supposed to grow grapes had instead been wasted on useless growth. Of course, the vine can hardly be blamed – plants grow wherever and however they can – but I certainly learned a lesson, and will be much more vigilant about excess growth in the future.

But the incident made me mindful of Isaiah 5 – the song of the vineyard. The Master of the vineyard is no rookie like I am. He knows how to expertly watch and trim vines so there is no rogue growth. But we humans are not like vines – we have free will. If we choose to, we can send the “shoots” of our imagination, our resources, or effort off into fruitless realms, neglecting the fruit of good deeds and moral effort that is expected of us.  So, as I splintered the stem that had been feeding the wild vine growth, I wondered how much of my life is like that – parts of me sprouting off to do what I want to do, even thinking I’m doing well because Look At All My Leaves!, but totally missing what I’m supposed to be doing with my life. Where is the fruit of charity that the Father expects when He comes for His harvest? Will it be bountiful because I was diligent, or scant because I was distracted doing other things that I found more immediately rewarding?

I spotted the rogue vine today, withering among the forsythia branches. I had no sympathy for it – it had been worse than useless. But I also thought of John 15:2, and wondered what kind of branch I was, and would be judged to be.

Refusal to pray

 

About six or eight years ago, I remember being astonished and dismayed to learn that some of my fellow pro-life workers refused to pray for then-President Barack Obama. There weren’t many of them, but there were enough to leave me dumbfounded. These people were mostly devout Christians of various traditions, who were familiar enough with their Bibles to have come across 1 Timothy 2:1-2 (“I desire therefore, first of all, that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for all men: for kings, and for all that are in high station: that we may lead a quiet and a peaceable life in all piety and chastity.”) The Holy Spirit speaking through St. Paul makes clear that prayer for those in positions of authority in government should be prayed for, which was why I included prayer for the president in my morning and evening prayers every day.

(Scott Olson/Getty Images)

But even beyond the Scriptural command, there is the issue of empathy. I disagreed with much of what President Obama stood for and most of his policies, but he was still a fellow human being in a position of tremendous responsibility and associated pressure. Regardless of how much or little I agreed with him, I wanted him to know God’s blessing and come to see His face for all eternity. And though most of my pro-life friends shared that viewpoint, the few who didn’t were distressing.

They were certain that they know all about Barack Obama. He was one of Them. He was one whose policies and appointments we were fighting (which was often true). He was the Enemy, not to be tolerated or accommodated in any way, even in prayer. Obama was evil, and there was even some question about whether he was the Antichrist himself. He opposed everything we stood for, and as such was outcast, wicked, and (essentially) beyond redemption.

What these people (again, a small but vociferous minority) had done was to start viewing the world through the lens of their politics – a very easy thing to fall into when you spend more time listening to cable news than immersing yourself in Scripture. They knew all about Obama, having been informed by their preferred news feeds and online columnists, and were convinced that he was not to be supported or favored in any way. They might have mouthed a cursory prayer (“We pray for all in civil authority…”), but they would not have prayed for President Obama by name, and certainly wouldn’t have truly intended God to bless him.

The most tragic thing about this situation was that these people didn’t realize the degree to which they were imperiling their souls. They were engaging in the very thing Jesus forbids in the Sermon on the Mount – i.e. judging the heart of another. While it is true that some of what Obama did and promoted could be rightly judged as opposed to God’s moral law, to extend that judgment to presume to know his motives and the state of his heart before God was to sit in the seat of God Himself – something that Jesus strictly forbid. Furthermore, to presume that Obama was beyond redemption, effectively damned already, was the highest kind of presumption.

What these people were forgetting was that when St. Paul wrote those instructions to Timothy, as well as verses like Romans 13:1, the “high authority” in question was the Roman emperor Nero. Yeah, him. If there was any party who did not deserve prayer by his actions and attitudes, it was Nero. Yet the Holy Spirit inspired St. Paul to write that anyway, and St. Timothy certainly obeyed, and Christians have been obeying ever since.

That’s the important thing. We live in contentious times, and judging the heart and motives of others is the stock in trade of much public commentary. These few people I mention had been so swayed by all they were taking in that it had eclipsed what the Lord had clearly instructed them to do. I took it as a reminder to me of where my primary responsibility lies, and to entrust all judgment to the Lord. What evil Obama has done, he will answer for – but the witness of Scripture is that I should be much more concerned about the evil I have done, and the answering I will do. In light of that, there should be nobody on the face of the earth I refuse to pray for.

Fr. Dwight Longenecker's Immortal Combat

Immortal Combat

Confronting the Heart of Darkness

Sophia Institute Press, Manchester, NH 2020

 

I’ve been familiar with Fr. Dwight Longenecker for several years. I enjoy his online columns and articles, finding him quick-witted and incisive in the style of C.S. Lewis and Peter Kreeft. Thus, I was excited to hear that he had a new book coming out, Immortal Combat. I ordered a copy as soon as I could, and eagerly awaited its arrival, even though I was a bit unclear as to the focus of the book. Would it be about spiritual warfare, or address the moral sickness which plagues our culture, or some other topic? Understandably, I was expecting something along the lines of what I’d seen in his columns.

When the book arrived, I found that it was not what I’d expected – but it turned out to be just what I needed. I had anticipated something catechetical or apologetic in tone, and while Immortal Combat contains elements of these, that is not its major focus. This is primarily a pastoral work. In it you meet not Fr. Longenecker the scholar or the articulate writer, but Fr. Dwight the pastor (though not without scholarship or articulation.) He follows in the tradition of priests like Bishop Fulton Sheen, whose pastoral heart showed through in every show and talk he made, despite being a prelate of the Church and a media sensation in his day. For me, this was the foremost attribute of Immortal Combat: it is pastoral, and I felt pastored as I read it.

What, then, is Immortal Combat about? Drawing on classical scholarship, theological training, and a lifetime of pastoral experience, Fr. Dwight lays bare the root of the world’s problems, which is precisely what G.K. Chesterton identified: myself. Me. Us. Using images and stories from sources as diverse as classical mythology and modern movies, Fr. Dwight illustrates our condition: the monsters that lurk beneath our personalities and the toxic, destructive ways in which they manifest themselves. He draws on divine revelation to explain how we got where we are, what it means to have a sin-damaged nature, and the implications of having an ancient enemy prowling around. From images such as the Minotaur, Cerberus, and the Gorgons, Fr. Dwight makes clear that the problem is as universal as it is hideous. While reading these grim descriptions, I found myself saying things like, “That’s me! He’s describing me!” and “I do that all the time.” Furthermore, Fr. Dwight doesn’t write from a position of academic detachment – he puts himself squarely in the middle of the circumstances he describes. It isn’t “They” who have these problems, or even “You”, it’s “We” – all of us, every Son of Adam and Daughter of Eve.

But Fr. Dwight doesn’t leave us as hopeless sinners in the hands of an Angry God. We may be tainted but we are dearly loved. Again making use of imagery from tales ancient and modern, he presents the story of salvation in a fresh light. Using an imaginative style reminiscent of Bunyan and Lewis, he sets the tale of redemption against the dark background of the opening chapters, so we can see the reality in sharper contrast. It turns out I’m not Nice. I am a Bad Person. I’m as much in need of salvation as that pimp or cartel hit man or abortionist. The root of my problem isn’t “Them”, it’s me. But I am not left forgotten or forsaken. The Secret Son, the Hidden Hero, comes for me. What He did for the Sin of the World, He can do for my personal sin – if I’ll cooperate. Fr. Dwight sites my primary battlefield right where it belongs: at the center of my will.  Before I can fight the dragons Out There, I must battle the monsters that lurk beneath the surface of my personality. I won’t do this alone, the Hero will assist me, but the fight is mine. Yes, I have the victory, but it’s victory amidst struggle as long as I draw breath. I am loved, but it’s up to me to not be a wandering sheep or a foolish virgin. Life is a battle that calls for constant vigilance.

Fr. Richard Neuhaus once defined optimism as a matter of optics, that is, what we choose to look at. Too often in our time and culture we think we’re being hopeful when actually we’re just being selective about what we’re viewing. “This will all pass and things will get back to normal.” “Our best days are ahead!” Fr. Dwight strips away our rose-colored glasses and forces us to gaze on the stinking sewers of our own sinful natures, not because he hates or wants to distress us, but because he loves. He’s like the doctor who must deliver the grim diagnosis. Once we understand our condition, the condition we all share, we’ll be able to truly cooperate with the treatment, and to explain it to others.

Fr. Dwight closes the book with some advice, based on his description of the problem and the solution. Most of these tips involve shifting our perspective on our own attitudes and motivations, but there are many practical hints as well. They reminded me of the principles I had to learn while living aboard ships, which weren’t there to bind or oppress me, but to keep me constantly aware that I was living in a different, and somewhat more precarious, environment than what I’d been accustomed to. Fr. Dwight is trying to warn us: given that the world isn’t what our senses and conditions would have us believe, we need to be aware of the peril and live accordingly.

From beginning to end, I found this book very pastoral. Yes, Fr. Dwight wants his readers to be educated and mentally agile, but mostly he wants them home. He has the heart of a shepherd who knows that there are hungry wolves and rocky gullies out there, and that sheep will wander. He wants everyone to make it safely home to the fold.  If he had time, he’d surely want to sit down with every one of his readers for spiritual counsel and prayer. Since that’s impossible, this book is the next best thing. It’s not only useful for our own spiritual nourishment, but also for giving to someone seeking answers. There are too many lost, despairing people out there who don’t know they need good news. Immortal Combat isn’t written in religious jargon, but uses themes and imagery common to all human experience. It’s a good book to give to a friend, even one who isn’t Christian, when you don’t know how to speak to their struggles.

Immortal Combat belongs on many bookshelves, probably including yours. I plan to order many copies to hand around, being sure to keep a copy nearby to review from time to time. The Lord has blessed His Church with many wise and experienced pastors like Fr. Dwight. We’re fools if we don’t avail ourselves of what they have to offer.