← Back to Library

The mysterious fruit of the vine

In a landscape often dominated by theological gatekeeping, this piece from Wayfare offers a startlingly intimate counter-narrative: that the most profound moments of faith occur not in the safety of the familiar, but in the disorienting friction of the other. The editors argue that encountering unfamiliar rituals—from the shock of wine replacing water to the raw energy of a progressive congregation's prayer—does not dilute one's own tradition but rather sharpens its contours and deepens its mystery. For the busy reader seeking substance over soundbites, this is a rare meditation on how religious boundaries can become bridges rather than walls.

The Shock of the Sacred

The piece opens with a visceral childhood memory that grounds high theology in human confusion. Wayfare reports, "None, however, was more shocking than the moment when the familiar sacramental water turned to wine in this new church—the symbolic drink looked unsettlingly like spilt blood." This anecdote is not merely nostalgic; it establishes the central thesis that distance from one's own tradition forces a reckoning with the nature of belief itself. The author describes standing bewildered in a rural Idaho church, looking to a grandmother for guidance that never came, leaving the child to grapple with the "mysterious fruit of the vine."

The mysterious fruit of the vine

The argument here is that this discomfort is generative. The piece suggests that when the "staid, familiar hymns" are replaced by the unknown, the observer is forced to ask, "Is this okay?" and in doing so, begins a journey of genuine inquiry. This lands effectively because it bypasses intellectual abstraction and taps into the universal feeling of being an outsider. Critics might argue that this romanticizes the friction of interfaith encounters, ignoring the very real historical tensions that often make such interactions fraught with danger or hostility rather than wonder. Yet, the editors maintain that the "open-ended invitation" to explore how others experience God is where true discipleship begins.

"I knew this was church, but it wasn't mine. Over time, Grandma's worship service created an open-ended invitation to me to explore how others experienced God."

The Architecture of Welcome

The narrative shifts from the quiet confusion of childhood to the deliberate, expansive hospitality of the Metropolitan Community Church (MCC) in Los Angeles. Wayfare notes the stark contrast between the generic "visitors welcome" signs common in many chapels and the MCC's explicit declaration: "Founders MCC... is a prophetic, liberating, and progressive Christian community of faith that honors, values, and welcomes all people." The editors highlight the specificity of this welcome, which roots itself in the LGBTQ+ community while explicitly inviting heterosexuals as well.

This section draws a powerful parallel to the historical mission of the MCC, founded in 1968 specifically to minister to the LGBTQ+ community when most denominations offered exclusion. The piece argues that the MCC's ability to "cast the net so wide" exposed the author's own hesitancy. The ritual of choosing between wine and grape juice, and the act of placing a flower for a father on Father's Day, served as a "bridge to the unfamiliar congregation." The editors suggest that these small, tangible acts of inclusion are more transformative than any theological treatise. "They extended the invitation to us in large part, I like to think, because we had sincerely worshipped alongside them just minutes earlier," the piece argues, noting that the community's focus on shared worship transcended institutional differences.

Prayer as a Mirror

Perhaps the most incisive observation in the article concerns the mechanics of prayer itself. Wayfare reports that when the author heard a prayer offered in "friendly and more energetic tones," it felt "strange, distant, and unworthy of God's attention" compared to the familiar, formal "Thee and Thou" of their own tradition. This moment of dissonance reveals a deeper truth: our comfort with religious language often masks a lack of spiritual engagement. The piece notes, "The humility of prayer is often sharpened when I hear a prayer that follows unfamiliar patterns, employs language that seems overly informal, or is highly liturgical."

The argument here is that the "tone" of prayer can reveal a proximity to the divine that rigid formalism sometimes obscures. The author's wife observes that the prayer felt "so real," a sentiment that challenges the reader to consider whether their own rituals have become rote. A counterargument worth considering is that the shift toward informal language can sometimes sacrifice theological depth for emotional immediacy, potentially flattening the mystery of the divine into mere sentiment. However, the editors insist that the "energy" of the prayer was not a replacement for doctrine but a different mode of accessing it.

The Weight of Memory

The final movement of the piece takes the reader into a synagogue, where the author confronts the Kaddish, the mourner's prayer. Wayfare describes how the congregation called out the names of the deceased, an act that "helped shrink the distance of time and generations." This experience forced a theological crisis regarding the author's own tradition's practice of posthumous baptism. The editors write, "Did they really need my meager efforts to do what they could not, would not do?" This question reframes the entire concept of salvation, moving it from a transactional obligation to a relational mystery.

The piece connects this to the broader Jewish concept of Am Yisrael (the people of Israel), suggesting that communal memory is a form of salvation in itself. The author realizes that their own desire to "extend salvation" might be an imposition rather than a gift. "Approaching the divine economy now meant that I might have to allow God to sort out the pathways of salvation that were more encompassing and mysterious than I had thought," the editors conclude. This is a profound admission of humility, suggesting that the "mysterious, unsearchable ways of God" are best approached with awe rather than a desire to categorize or control.

"Learning about someone else's faith, religious practice, and worldview, always opens up questions for me that call me back into my own religious life."

Bottom Line

The strongest element of this commentary is its refusal to treat interfaith engagement as a mere exchange of ideas; instead, it frames it as a visceral, often uncomfortable, but ultimately necessary confrontation with the self. The piece's greatest vulnerability lies in its reliance on the author's personal safety and privilege to navigate these spaces, a context that may not be universally available. Ultimately, the editors succeed in arguing that the "mysterious fruit of the vine" is not a symbol of division, but a catalyst for a deeper, more resilient faith that thrives on the very differences it once feared.

Deep Dives

Explore these related deep dives:

  • Eucharist

    The article centers on the author's encounters with communion practices across different Christian traditions—wine vs. water vs. grape juice, wafers vs. bread. Understanding the theological foundations and historical variations of the Eucharist provides essential context for why these differences exist and matter spiritually.

  • Metropolitan Community Church

    The author describes a transformative visit to Founders MCC Los Angeles, but readers may not know the history of this denomination founded in 1968 specifically to serve LGBTQ Christians who were excluded from other churches. This context deepens understanding of the radical welcome the author experienced.

Sources

The mysterious fruit of the vine

by Various · Wayfare · Read full article

There is something about distance from familiar spaces or things that makes one think of other paths to becoming. One of my first experiences with distance occurred in the Weiser Christian Church in Weiser, Idaho. I was probably six or seven years old at the time, and I was visiting “Grandma’s church.” Grandma was devoted to Christ, a truth I saw manifest in the Bibles that sat perched around the house. Grandma frequently prayed, and she was sure to teach us to follow God’s commands, including taking care in the use of God’s name.

As a young Latter-day Saint sitting in a small Christian church in rural Idaho, I’m sure there were many things that struck me as distinctly odd, different, and unexpected. None, however, was more shocking than the moment when the familiar sacramental water turned to wine in this new church—the symbolic drink looked unsettlingly like spilt blood. Unsure of how to proceed, I looked to Grandma for guidance as I was offered the familiar little plastic cup with the unfamiliar liquid, but she sat contemplatively pondering, blissfully unaware of my searching question: “Is this okay?” I’ve now come to think of this moment as my encounter with “the mysterious fruit of the vine”—which had always been water to me—forcing me to reconcile where my own tradition utilized an object quite different from other Christian communities.

It was in this moment that my questions about how to proceed in the religious spaces of others first emerged. That day, I found myself among people who unexpectedly declared “peace be with you” as I stood bewildered—uncertain, yet somehow encouraged that they were interested in my soul. I knew this was church, but it wasn’t mine. Over time, Grandma’s worship service created an open-ended invitation to me to explore how others experienced God. The service was clearly about Jesus, as marked by the large crucifix staring down at me, but everything from the hymns to the priest to the sermon felt unfamiliar. I could see that Jesus was present—so present I couldn’t look away. But where were the staid, familiar hymns that I knew by heart, even at that young age? Where was the customary cheap, white, sandwich bread, broken in its ragged form that I had learned represented Christ’s body, the clear water somehow reminiscent of his blood?

Since then, my life has been littered, blessed, and enmeshed with what ...