You Are Pruned


Exodus 15: 22- 16:10

(From 15: 26) “…...because I am Adonai your healer.”

1 Peter 2: 1- 10

(From 2: 9) “Why? In order for you to declare the praises of the One who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.”

John 15: 1- 11

Every branch which is part of me but fails to bear fruit, he cuts off; and every branch that does bear fruit, he prunes, so that it may bear more fruit. Right now, because of the word which I have spoken to you, you are pruned.



Many times, in doing this practice of Lectio Divina I find that the readings serve to simply remind me of something that I already know. My inner response is then, “Oh yeah, right…. I knew that.” That’s what happened today with the phrase from the Old Testament reading, “I am Adonai your healer.” I have often experienced relief, comfort, and what can only be described as ‘spiritual repair’ in the course of my contemplative practice. I think it’s fair to describe that as “healing.” That recognition reinforces my trust that I will indeed continue to receive such relief and comfort when I am in pain, and it encourages me in my understanding that the One in Whom I live and move and have my being is the Source of that healing.

The reading from Peter made me remember a pivotal memory from my adolescence. I think I was about 15 years old, and I had a conversation with my mother in which I said that what I wanted to do with my life was “to praise God.” The odd thing was that I was not a Christian at the time. It wasn’t until nearly 15 years later that I had the experience that led to my conversion and baptism in the Episcopal church. Nevertheless, I knew then, and I know now, exactly what I meant. Even at 15, I knew how important is that inner movement which responds to beauty, poignancy, and wonder with reciprocal delight and a deep sense of affinity and kinship. What I was trying to express was my understanding that there is nothing more important than that response; the response that even at fifteen I knew to call by the name of “praise.” What I was trying to explain to my mother was that I wanted my entire life to be shaped by that response and I wanted that same response to form the whole context of my being, and for it to determine the essential value of my character. I still want that, nearly 50 years later.

The phrase from the Gospel reading, “you are pruned,” provoked a wry smile. I definitely feel as though I’ve been pruned!  The raw twig-ends are still weeping sap, and the absent branches are letting too much light in.


Aching and squinting; still unhealed;

 at the moment I’m just not convinced that all this pruning was a good idea.

But this morning bright clouds draped themselves kindly over gray mountains,

and called me to walk out and turn my face to the astounding, uninvited light.

Comments

Popular Posts