Scripture passages from The Jerusalem Bible, with alternate readings from The King James Version (KJV), Revised Standard Version (RSV), and Vulgate
“I am the true vine, and my father is the vinedresser [KJV “husbandman”]. Every branch in me that bears no fruit he cuts away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes to make it bear even more. You are pruned already, by means of the word that I have spoken to you. Make your home in me, as I make mine in you. As a branch cannot bear fruit all by itself but must remain part of the vine, neither can you unless you remain in me. I am the vine, you are the branches. Whoever remains in me, with me in him, bears fruit in plenty; for cut off from me you can do nothing. Anyone who does not remain in me is like a branch which has been thrown away—he withers; these branches are collected and thrown on the fire, and they are burnt. If you remain in me and my words remain in you, you may ask what you will and you will get it.”
—John 15:1-7 (Jerusalem Bible)
My father once worked as a gardener for the city Park Department. Among the tools which he passed on to me are branch loppers, hedge shears, and hand pruners. He spent a lot of time with them on his job. You could say that they defined his vocation. On Saturdays at home he would announce his mission for the morning as he headed out to the garden, saying that he must “mow, edge and trim.” Years later those words echo in my mind, but now they have taken on an entirely new dimension, inspired by the words of scripture.
Following in my father’s footsteps, I have gardened for many years. This has included the growing and appreciation of bonsai. I still remember how it all started. A library book I borrowed stressed the dependence of these small trees in containers on their owners as the live in limited containers of soil. Watchfulness must occur for their correct watering, pruning, fertilizing and placement in favorable locations. It struck an emotional chord—these small trees were dependent upon me to live. My trees have been my companions, and have moved with me wherever I have lived. My interest also opened the entire field of horticulture to me. This led to my work for nearly twenty years in the nursery business. Beneath it all was my relationship to growing things.
Bonsai masters know the key to the continued development and vigor of their trees. After the initial shaping and wiring, additional foliage must be removed to define the structure of the tree. The words of the sensei of our bonsai group still echo in my head: “clean up, clean up”. For any growing thing, careful, timely, and attentive pruning stimulates it to produce new vegetative growth, each successive round of growth finer and denser than the previous one. Although small in size, bonsai continue to flourish and are even passed from generation to generation. In Japan, trees that are 400-500 years of age are not uncommon. The periodic removal and reduction of foliage has a salutary effect. It is not cruel—on the contrary, it is beneficial. Pruning stimulates growth. Those who are hesitant to do this will not get the desired outcome and their trees will actually suffer as a result. If left in an overgrown state for too long, the health of the tree deteriorates. Why? There are simply too many demands upon its resources.
The prophet Amos received a practical preparation for his later role as prophet. He was a pruner, or dresser, of orchard trees. I can picture him with his hook roving from tree to tree, judging with an expert eye just what branch and how much to cut. This practical background may have influenced his message. Jesus, too, was aware of the care which trees should receive in order to produce good fruit. He used a fig tree as a lesson to illustrate the spiritual fruit his followers should bear, along with the care and patience necessary for it to take place (although, as in his lesson, there are some branches that will not respond).
So there is the pruning which God requires; there is the self-pruning which follows, and there is the pruning of life circumstances. The effects may be observed in trees or people. Like the Bristlecone pines of the Southwest, people are shaped by their circumstances, and there is a beauty here. Immigrants from many lands who have chosen to make their lives in America have displayed similar qualities. This is why the current anti-immigrant rhetoric in certain political circles is so abhorrent. I am most familiar with those from Latin America, and am continually amazed by the depth of their faith, the goodness of their nature, and the optimism of their outlook even in limited circumstances. Then there are others, like those who choose the self-sacrifice of the monastic tradition take sacred vows to limit themselves in order to reveal the spirit within. Pruning occurs, for those who are pruned and those who prune themselves.
The writing process is like pruning. It is the rare manuscript that is finalized with the first draft. Thr usual practice is that anything which might be potentially useful is written down, and from there it cooks away, something like cooking a soup or stew. Multiple passes and rewrites occur. Words are substituted or eliminated, sentences and even whole paragraphs are relocated or restructured. Removal of that which is redundant, or has been improved, or is longer considered necessary, is common. Writing, like other processes mentioned in this post, is at its core a process of reduction.
Moving to spiritual concerns, the Gospel of John employs the Greek work for “pruned” which, while used in the agricultural sense, may be taken to mean “clean” or “pure”. The cleaning out of old or unnecessary growth is a metaphor for spiritual discipline. It is a process of reduction rather than of addition. It is the searching for that “pearl of great price” which alone is worth keeping and valuing. The process is similar to bathing, and a short while later in the Gospel narrative Jesus explains, “No one who has taken a bath needs washing, he is clean all over. You are clean, though not all of you are [indicating Judas].”
Pruning which comes from God is expressed in Job 5:17-18: Happy indeed the man whom God corrects [KJV “reproves”]! Then do not refuse this lesson from Shaddai [KJV “the chastening of the almighty”]. It is an intriguing paradox: “For he who wounds is he who soothes the sore, and the hand that hurts is the hand that heals [KJV “For he maketh sore, and bindeth up; he woundeth, and his hands make whole].” This theme is further developed in Psalm 94: (KJV) “Blessed is the man whom thou chastenest, O Lord, and teachest him out of thy law; That thou mayest give him rest from the days of adversity, until the pit be digged for the wicked.” This is echoed in Proverbs 3:11 (KJV) “My son, despise not the chastening of the Lord; neither be weary of his correction.” God shows us that the path of humility is best. He prunes us to fit his purpose. Humble circumstances are so often the preparation for true growth and, ultimately, happiness.
Sirach 22:27-23:6: (Jerusalem Bible passage title: “Vigilance”) explores the dynamics of the outer as it affects the inner: “Who will set a guard [RSV “O that a guard were set”] upon my mouth, and seal of prudence on my lips, to keep me from falling, and my tongue from causing my ruin [Vulgate: “that I fall not by them, and that my tongue destroy me not”]? Lord, father and master of my life, do not abandon me to their whims, do not let me fall because of them. Who will lay [RSV “set”] whips to my thoughts, and the discipline of wisdom to my heart [RSV over my mind”], to be unmerciful to my errors, and let none of my sins go unchecked in case my errors multiply, and my sins increase in number, and I fall before my adversaries, and my enemy gloats over me? Lord, father and God of my life, do not give me proud [RSV “haughty”] eyes, turn lust away from me, do not let lechery [RSV “gluttony”] and lust grip [RSV “overcome”] me, do not give me over to shameless desire.”
Clement of Alexandria offered advice to the community of his day, at the end quoting what we have read from Job: “Let us receive correction, at which no man ought to repine [to feel sadness or discontent]. Beloved, the reproof and the correction which we exercise towards one another, is good, and exceeding profitable: for it unites us more closely to the will of God. For so says the Holy Scripture, The Lord corrected me, but he did not deliver me over unto death. For whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveith . The righteous, saith he, shall instruct me in mercy and reprove me; but let not oil of sinners make fat my head. And again he saith, Happy is the man whom God correcteth; therefore despise not thou the chastening of the Almighty. For he maketh sore and bindeth up; he woundeth and his hands make whole.”
Abundance of resources is a two-edged sword. Resources are beneficial only to the extent that they can be effectively utilized. I will give you a musical example: Some of the most beautiful music the world has ever known was recorded very simply and directly. Field recordings in rural areas of the U.S. from the 1920s through the 1940s documented an incredibly rich tradition. The blues recordings of Robert Johnson were made in a hotel room, where it was reported that he sang facing the wall to capture the natural echo. Symphony recordings on the Mercury Living Presence label are eagerly sought sonic documents because the entire orchestra was recorded using a single, strategically placed microphone. Much of the popular music we treasure was recorded on two, three, or four tracks. Fast forward to the present day when the means to produce “professional quality” music recordings are within anyone’s grasp and the tone libraries of modern synthesizers enable the musician to mimic or create nearly any desired sounds combining them in multiple layers. It is truly fantastic. Yet with all of this technological abundance, it is often difficult to develop the ability to create the emotional richness of those earlier, simpler models. Too frequently the result is unfocused and excessive, blurred by layers of multiple tracks. Powerful and meaningful music, it seems, is often defined by its limitations in order to develop that pure idea, that pure feeling, to its necessary depth. The ability to theoretically do anything is often an unfulfilled illusion. Progress is often a process of reduction, stripping the expression back to what is real, to what is connected to the voice within.
The Buddhist meditation practice of sattipathana is the focusing of that “bare attention” which in a sense is a pruning, or stripping down, of the mental processes. In Judeo-Christian terms this is none other than the “inward circumcision” demanded of those who would direct their energies to higher things. Though the language may differ, the process is the same. Jesus’ forty day sojourn on the mountain was a pruning. Paul calls to mind the difference between the letter and the spirit of the law when he addresses the outer and inner meaning of circumcision, in Romans 2:29: “The real Jew is one who is inwardly a Jew, and the real circumcision is in the heart—something not of the letter but of the spirit. A Jew like that may not be praised by man, but he will be praised by God.”
While I would not debate the superiority of one form of worship over another, there is something to be said for the liturgical form.. There is a calmness, a serenity, a predictability, an orderliness and focus which is comforting and assuring. The service changes through the seasons of the church year, anchored by the constraint of its foundational elements. Variations occur within an envelope which surrounds the celebrant and the participants. A pruning has taken place in the service itself and directs a similar subduing of the participant in order that something deeper, the spiritual motive, may grow. We give up in order to get. It is the law of sacrifice. It is the effect of reduction, like that of pruning, which stimulates.
Before closing, I must turn to a closely related theme running through the Old Testament, and parts of the New. It is the purging of dross. The metallurgists of the day who were perfecting their craft used the word to describe the impurities of silver separated from the ore in the process of melting. Jerusalem Bible notes to Jeremiah 6:29-30 give us a description of the process: “To purify the silver ore it is thrown into molten lead, for the silver to separate from the dross which, combining with the oxydyzed [British spelling] lead, settles at the bottom of the melting pot.” In the passage cited [“the bellows blast away….in vain….the dross is not purged out”] the notes read “the operation fails: no pure metal emerges.” The question must be asked: are there individual lives, or societies, from which no redeeming qualities may be salvaged?
The selected passages begin with the observation is that the word of the Lord is pure, without dross (Psalm 18:30). In the King James Version, it is tried, like the refined metal in the process of smelting. This trying, or testing, extends to those who aspire to the spiritual path. They are “tested….tried like silver (Psalms 66:10). “A crucible for silver, a furnace for gold, but Yahweh for the testing of hearts!” (Proverbs 17:3). “From silver remove the dross and it emerges wholly purified” (Proverbs 25:4). Believers are tested “in the furnace of humiliation” (Sirach 2:5); “in the furnace of distress” (Isaiah 48:10).
John the Baptist applies this burning function to Jesus, who will “baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire….but the chaff he will burn in a fire that will never go out” in Matthew 3:11. Commentators such as those of the Jerusalem Bible understand this language to be figurative, the spiritual imagery of judgment and purification. The process is prophesied in Ezekiel 22:20, “I will collect you in my furnace and melt you down”; and in 25:11, where the bronze sill “glow red-hot, the filth inside melt away, the rust inside be consumed.”
The Hindu scriptures provide additional, valuable insights: In the Upanishads: “The Lord is addressed as fire because He can burn anything into ashes, including the sins of the surrendered soul.”; Thou art the infinite Lord…. Thou art the Light of all lights. Remove the darkness of ignorance from us; Burn all the seeds of our evil desires and evil karmas; Make us fearless. We salute thee! O Lord, shower thy blessings upon all; May good come to all. May those who have evil ways come to realize the good, That they may follow the way of the good. May all beings be kind and loving to one another; May all think good of one another; May all realize the good within themselves.”; “One sees everything as the Soul. Evil does not overcome him; he overcomes all evil. Evil does not burn him; he burns all evil. Free from evil, free from impurity, free from doubt, he becomes a Brahman. This is the Brahma-world, O king.” And in the Srimad Bhagavatum: “ If the yogi, being deluded, makes mistakes in life, he should burn away his sins and impurities by prayer and meditation. This yoga of prayer and meditation is the only way of atonement.”
More about Jesus and burning: He is “the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sins of the world” (John 1:29 KJV). Joseph Padinjarekara, a scholar of both Christian and Hndu traditions, makes the case that Jesus is “the man that burns sin”. He quotes from the Brhadaranyaka Upanishad and makes the case that Jesus is the Purusa: “He who burned out all sins before all—everyone—is Purusa. He writes, “According to this, the derivation of the word ‘Purusa’ is from ‘purvam’ (before or being in front of) and ‘osah’ (burning). The man burns out sin….Fire burns out any impurities. At the same time fire remains pure….there is no impurity in Purusa and He burns out all other impurities….The sacrificial Lamb of God in heaven, the Lamb who was “slain from the foundation of the world” [1 Peter 1:8, Revelation 13:8 (KJV)] is also unique in His character of holiness and sinlessness.” (Christ in Ancient Vedas, 1991, p, 84) Can this be Jesus? I find nothing in this passage which departs from a Christian understanding.
As I grow older I am coming to appreciate more and more the value of refinement, whether of precious metal, or the pruning of trees, or of human character. There is no other course of action than to humble ourselves and subject ourselves to the will of God. There is much in our contemporary life that can be stripped away. I find more and more an aversion to the pervasive entertainment media, to the need to be constantly connected to others via the social media, to the shallowness and pettiness of thought in written and spoken discourse, and to the distortion of religion beyond its essential core, to include the naked aspiration to power and wealth of some of its leaders. Much can be thrown overboard, burned away. This self-pruning extends to possessions, to food choices, to activities and, paradoxically, what is kept is appreciated and enjoyed more intensely. We are liberated. Life is amplified, not diminished. The lesser things are, as the Upanishads say, “unsafe boats” which are of no avail in carrying us to the farther shore.
We are all trees in God’s garden and may choose to respond, or not respond, to his love and care. As in the bonsai and the orchard tree, this pruning may seem at first to be an unnecessary limitation. The facts do not, however, bear this out. Those who are humbled by their circumstances or who humble themselves by their attitudes and spiritual discipline flourish in a new and dynamic way. What is prudent and beneficial in horticulture applies to human life. To be pruned is to be loved.
Divinepersonhood 