Tending Grapes and Contemplating the Divine (Sabbatical Reflection #1)

During this early part of my sabbatical journey, I had the profound privilege of spending time at the Fratelli Contemplativi di Gesù, a monastery renowned for its unique prayerful practice centered around tending to grapevines.  They are located in the Piedmont region of Italy and have existed for hundreds of years into their hillside.  This experience was not only a retreat into the serene rhythm of monastic life but also a deep spiritual immersion into the art of contemplation.

The monks at Fratelli Contemplativi di Gesù have cultivated a practice where the physical act of tending grapes becomes a form of prayer, a living metaphor for their spiritual journey. As I worked alongside them, pruning vines and nurturing the tender shoots, I began to see the profound connection between this humble labor and the contemplative life.

Tending grapes requires patience, attention, and a gentle touch. Each vine must be carefully pruned to encourage growth, much like how our spiritual lives need regular reflection and sometimes, a gentle pruning of distractions and vices. The process reminded me that spiritual growth is not instantaneous; it is a gradual, deliberate act that requires dedication and mindfulness.

In the quiet vineyards, the act of pruning became a prayer. Each snip of the shears was a moment of release, letting go of what was no longer necessary, allowing the vine to direct its energy toward what would bring the most fruit. Similarly, in our spiritual practice, we are called to release our burdens, to let go of what hinders our connection with the divine, and to focus on what truly nourishes our soul.

The grapes, growing slowly and steadily, taught me about the virtue of patience. Just as the grapes require time to mature and sweeten under the sun, our spiritual lives need time to grow in the light of God's love. There is no rushing the process; it unfolds in its own sacred time, much like the seasons of the vineyard.

Moreover, the communal aspect of working in the vineyard reflected the monastic value of living in harmony with one another. Each monk, like each vine, is part of a larger whole. The vineyard thrives not because of the efforts of one, but because of the collective care and devotion of the community. This mirrored the divine call to live in unity and to support one another in our spiritual journeys.

In the evening, as we gathered for prayer, the day's labor infused our worship with a deeper sense of connection to God's creation. The vineyard became a living chapel, and the work of our hands a form of liturgy. It was a reminder that the divine is not only found in the silence of the chapel but also in the simple, sacred act of tending to the earth in community, the latter never being lost on the monk. 

My time at Fratelli Contemplativi di Gesù has deeply enriched my understanding of contemplation. The practice of tending grapes has become a cherished metaphor for my spiritual life—a reminder that with patience, care, and communal support, we can cultivate a fruitful and meaningful connection with the divine. We are called into harmony as we tend to each other. 

When I return to all of you, I will carry with me the lessons of the vineyard: the importance of gentle pruning, the virtue of patience, and the power of community. In the meantime, in invite us to find ways to tend to our spiritual vines, nurturing our connection with God and with one another, allowing the fruits of our labor to glorify the Creator.