Homily for the Fifth Sunday of Easter, 2021
Jesus said to his disciples:
“I am the true vine, and my Father is the vine grower.
He takes away every branch in me that does not bear fruit,
and every one that does he prunes so that it bears more fruit.
You are already pruned because of the word that I spoke to you.
Remain in me, as I remain in you.
Just as a branch cannot bear fruit on its own
unless it remains on the vine,
so neither can you unless you remain in me.
I am the vine, you are the branches.
Whoever remains in me and I in him will bear much fruit,
because without me you can do nothing.
Anyone who does not remain in me
will be thrown out like a branch and wither;
people will gather them and throw them into a fire
and they will be burned.
If you remain in me and my words remain in you,
ask for whatever you want and it will be done for you.
By this is my Father glorified,
that you bear much fruit and become my disciples.”-John 15:1-8
This passage from the Savior’s Last Supper discourse is full of comfort. St. Thomas tells us that here he is consoling his apostles for the tribulations they will undergo after he leaves the world—not only in his death, but in his going away in his ascension. This may, however, not be entirely apparent to us, since this Gospel passage also has some very challenging warnings to offer.
What does it mean to be comforted? The origin of our English word comfort will give us a clear clue. The word comes from a Latin term meaning “to strengthen completely or altogether.” Yet this idea of strengthening is not our usual understanding of comfort. By comfort, we usually mean reassurance that things are not or will not be so bad after all.
Although that may be true in the long run, in view of the happiness of heaven, this is not the Lord’s way of comforting. He comforts us, as the word implies in our own language, to make us strong against painful trials that are sure to come.
No one is exempted from these trials. As he tells us, even if we are faithful and fruitful branches, we will still be pruned in order to bear even more fruit. His Father, the vine grower, will cut away and prune as recognition that our proven fruitfulness must be fostered in this painful way.
Thus no one can say, “But I am doing my best and trying my hardest, so why does God allows this or that to happen to me?” St. Augustine tells us that there is no one so pure that he does not profit from purifications and trials. Now, the trials of this life can be horrible and painful; there is no sense in minimizing them. But the comfort we must take from them is that they are under the providential rule of God’s loving and merciful hand.
St. Rose of Lima says that if we understood the value of suffering we would seek only that, and very ardently. St. Teresa of Avila tells us that if we understood the life of grace, of the union with God of which Our Lord speaks today, we would be willing to suffer a thousand times the sufferings of this life in order to grow just one degree in merit.
This is why we are wrong in a sense when we always explain great trials and disasters as simply “allowed” by God. Only sin is merely allowed by him. Everything else in the world, including trials, tribulations, and sufferings, are willed by him to be saving remedies. So if the trial or suffering is not a sinful act, then it is something ultimately good for us.
And as we have pointed out, this is not because you are bad, but especially because you are good. God is not training us for life on this earth, but eternal life, and in view of that we must be purged and purified by the hand of God.
When we hear of great disasters in which many die unexpectedly, we should pray for them, but also understand that not a single one would prefer to return to this world, no matter how tragic the cause of their death.
Now you could say, and with reason, “Father, all this is easy to say, but you know how hard it is to suffer.” Yes, indeed, but we need strength, not illusions. Christians are commanded by the Savior to take up the cross daily and follow him, and he never deserved to suffer anything.
And today the Lord gives us the secret of suffering well: closeness to him, union with him; indeed, identity with him by grace, since the vine and the branches share the same nature.
The most comforting thing he tells us is that without him we can do nothing. This means that he expects us to count on him to give us the strength to endure, for giving us the power to thrive in spite of the tragedies and misfortunes and day-to-day trials is his business.
So when we feel we can’t go on, or foresee our future difficulties, it is right and just to remind him in prayer that without him you cannot do it. Then we will prove true the words of St. Paul, “I can do all things in him who strengthens me.”
Now there is true comfort.