Fifth Sunday of Easter (Year B)

Today is Mother's Day. As on any other Sunday when we settle down in McDonald's, I call up my mother, telling her that we are having breakfast and will go to church afterwards. Of course, today I would say happy Mother's Day to her. She follows Chinese customs and Mother's Day doesn't mean anything to her. We are forever her children. Therefore, everyday is Mother's Day to her. I intended to go over to Chai Wan to have dinner with her. She told me not to bother. It does not worth the trouble to travel all the way just to have dinner with her. Leave it for next month that we may celebrate Father's and Mother's Day together. Though she always barks at my father, my mother still keeps her traditional position, playing second fiddle to my father. My mother has her share of weaknesses. Yet, she knows her position. I wonder if the younger, egocentric generation know theirs.
We read of the True Vine pericope in the gospel of John today. Jesus describes the relationship between himself and his followers as one between a vine and its branches. Yet it is deeper than a relationship between the centre and the peripheral. There is no centre, no peripheral in Christ' relation with his followers. The followers together concretize Christ. That was what Jesus told Saul on the road of Damascus (Acts 9:4-5). Here in John, Jesus invites his followers to commit themselves to him and he to them.
Abide in me, and I in you (John 15:4a).
Therefore, it is very much like one between husband and wife, the image Jeremiah used in Jeremiah 31. This brought up in my mind a very romantic sonnet written by a wife whose husband intended to acquire a concubine.
你儂我儂，
忒煞情多，
情多處，熱如火，
把一塊泥，捻一個你，塑一個我。
將咱兩個，一齊打破，用水調和，
再捻一個你，再塑一個我，
我泥中有你，你泥中有我，
我與你，生同一個衾，死同一個槨。【管道昇】
It can be roughly translated as follow.
"You and me, me and you,
much our love profuse,
Where love full, hot as fire;
Take a clay, Form a you, Make a me.
Smash us both, Blend with water.
Re-form a you, Re-make a me,
My clay has you, Your clay has me,
Me and You, Live to share one couch; Die to share one coffin."
After reading this sonnet, the husband gave up the whole idea of introducing the third person into their relationship. Husband and wife lived happily ever after. I feel that this, the life of this couple, was a wonderful commentary on Jesus' words. Fr. Patrick Sun reminded us in his homily that when we receive the Holy Communion, this inter-blending between Jesus and us becomes a concrete reality, not just a theological abstraction. It is an unconditional commitment on the part of Jesus. Jesus loves us and puts his trust in us. We should commit ourselves to this great love of Jesus without reservation.
Then Fr. Patrick switched to the branches.
I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser.
Every branch of mine that bears no fruit, he takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit (John 15:1-2).
The branches that bear no fruit will be removed. Wulstan, my second son, has a different idea. In winter, when water is scarce, a tree will shed its leaves to preserve life-essential resources. But this does not apply to Jesus. He will not abandon anyone of us for he is the living water. Rather, it is us who desert him. Our heavenly Father gives us freedom. If we abuse it and choose to cut ourselves off from Him, it is we who suffer. But why do we fail to bear fruit? Fr. Patrick has the following suggestions.
Perhaps we do not pray enough. Our religious life is routine and our passion gradually grows dim and thus fail to make the people we reach glow with passion as well. Our faith becomes hollow and withers.
Perhaps our faith occupies a peripheral part of our life. It does not go into our family, our work or our friends. It is something we remember to do on Sundays, or only in Christmas. Our faith does not give us strength, passion or consolation. Very soon, we become lukewarm and stop believing altogether. King David was not a perfect man. He made mistakes and yet his passion with God never waned.

My sweet Jesus, rekindle the passion in my heart. I pray that this little remaining spark of mine will glow and burn again. Amen.