Of the theories associated with how Yale, and seven other prestigious schools, were dubbed “Ivy League,” the one that seems to get the most traction is that of sports writer Caswell Adams. In 1937, when assigned to cover Columbia University football, he “complained to his boss at having to write about those old ‘Ivy covered’ universities” (he was a proud Fordham graduate). Known for their prestige and distinguished by their academic excellence, Cas then employed the term “Ivy League” in an article about the Columbia/Penn game. 

Running around campus at this time of year you can’t help but be struck by the beautiful, “old Ivy covered” buildings. Even in our own backyard, a regal, ivy-covered stone wall surrounds a portion of the garden between the Chapel and the Chaplain’s residence. On a flourishing ivy tree, the branches of a healthy vine are indistinguishable from each other: they are all intertwined. Some leaves may appear healthy and green, while others may appear dry, brittle or nearly dead, on the vine. Some days, they are basking in the sun and soaking up nutrients—while on other days, they are blowing in the chilly wind and soaked in the rain. But regardless of the conditions, the branches remain on the vine. Each of them stays connected to their common source.

In his parting words in what has come to be known as the “Farewell Discourse” in John’s Gospel, Jesus says to the disciples: “Remain in me, as I remain in you. I am the vine and you are the branches.” Contrary to a Western concept of individual elitism, standing out and distinguishing oneself over and above the rest, Jesus is pointing to a corporate identity in the sense of being part of His body. It is a communal identity we share as the embodiment of Christ’s love.

Our students here at Yale are stewards of their God-given gifts and talents. Many of them will go on to distinguish themselves in their respective fields. And we celebrate this because they will do it as Christians. At this time of year, however, the pressure to excel and to do it perfectly in order to distinguish oneself over and above the rest is real and intense. Which is why we must remember that we are part of something much bigger and much deeper. We are all connected and called to remain in Christ—the true vine—and it is God, the divine gardener who distinguishes one from another, based solely on the fruit we bear in works of love. There may be moments when we’re feeling healthy, thriving, basking in the sunlight—and others, when we’re feeling dry, brittle, maybe even dead on the vine. The crucial thing is to stay connected, to stay on the vine, the source of God’s truth, wisdom, creativity and love. It’s the source for all we need, and through it, we can remain in Christ as Christ promises to remain in us.