ST MATTHEW-IN-THE-CITY
ANGLICAN CHURCH AUCKLAND NEW ZEALAND
Hold Lightly to Vineyard Tenancy
October 8, 2017
Cate Thorn
Ordinary 27 Isaiah 5:1–7 Matthew 21:33-46
Video available on YouTube, Facebook
Surprisingly enough today’s gospel passage isn’t a favourite for preaching. It’s considered a difficult text, in truth I’ve found it a wrestle this week and I’ve wondered why. On the face of it you might say it’s because it’s a tough parable with words of judgement and condemnation that make it uncomfortable. Yet the parable tells a real life, everyday story. Is it not true that we see such dishonest, double dealing, murderous self-interest daily in our news, in our communities? Is this the problem, we don’t like to find it before us in scripture? It faces us with our human capacity for corruption, brutality, murder, for nasty dealing and betrayal of trust - for personal, material gain, the gain of power, control, to take for ourselves that which is not ours. We recognise this in us and we’re uncomfortable for the sentence of judgement passed seems not unreasonable.
The parable opens gently enough, a vineyard carefully planted, means for its protection and processing of produce provided, echoing Isaiah 5, a well-appointed, intentioned vineyard. In Isaiah the vineyard is ‘the house of Israel and the people of Judah,’ a vineyard condemned for producing not the expected fruit of righteousness and justice but wild grapes of injustice and outcry. By contrast this gospel vineyard is producing fruit well, a good return on the landowners’ investment. This parable’s concerned with the tenants. Those entrusted to oversee and ensure the vineyard flourishes and produces good fruit. The vineyards’ producing well, the produce just isn’t being released, returned to the landowner.
It’s a plain enough parable in its telling a story, plain enough but not innocent. Curiously and foolishly, the landowner continues to send emissaries to collect the produce of the vineyard even though they’re being killed. The expectation there’s produce to collect never waivers. First one set of slaves, then another are sent, each and all are killed. Finally the landowner’s son is sent. No more respected than the slaves he’s taken outside the vineyard and killed. It’s said the tenants hope for inheritance, which is odd considering the landowner still lives. But nevertheless this is the motivation given. This is the parable. At no point does Jesus condemn. He asks the Pharisees listening, the Jewish leaders, the leaders of the Isaiah vineyard, what they think the landowner should do. Judgement and condemnation come in the words of their response. Somewhat cryptically Jesus responds with words of scripture “The stone that the builder rejected has become the corner stone” the implication of this isn’t lost on Jesus’ audience. The least expected person, one who refuses to participate in unjust ways of being will prevail, those actually producing the fruit of the kingdom and returning it to the One who gifts life inhabit and will inherit God’s kingdom.
This parable’s heard in a religious context. Not just we hearing it in this religious place or that it’s from a gospel, but it’s put in the mouth of Jesus, who’s speaking in the Temple of Jerusalem to the leaders of the Jewish religious community. And the parable intentionally utilises OT imagery, the vineyard setting of Isaiah 5, the servants sent are stoned, the fate of many unwelcome prophets, the stumbling block from Psalm 118 and talk of the kingdom of God. Does it mean this teaching is only for those who know these connections and are familiar with the significance of such imagery? Is the parable’s wisdom and application only for a faith community? Could it be understood, apply beyond such bounds?
Feeling a little concerned that I wasn’t ‘getting it’ I explored commentaries, other ways people had approached this parable, made meaning of it. All very interesting and cogent arguments were offered but there seemed a point at which people leapt into God talk. Suddenly the writers seemed to know what God was saying, know how this passage fitted in God’s plan of salvation history where Jesus died for our sins so we could have eternal life. I found myself going, “What? Where is that?” Before even beginning to read the parable we’re told it’s ‘The Parable of the Wicked Tenants,’ even if only the Pharisees name the tenants as wicked. Such title directs us to read or hear the parable expecting it to be about wicked tenants. I’d gained a whole lot of information but now found it harder for the parable speak to me, to hear it in a more or other than religious context. I felt I was being directed to think the parable had one particular thing to say.
One of the things that is delightful and bewildering about parables is the varied and different responses that can arise in reading them, as if they’re a means by which new wisdom and insight is revealed. The pressure I felt to conform my thinking to the correct way of hearing this parable bothered me. What was I missing, what was my continuing puzzlement and unease, why could I not just go with the majority view? The clarity of 2am wakefulness pointed out the irony of my consternation.
This parable focuses on the tenants of a particular vineyard, tenants who want ownership of a vineyard which is not theirs. The tenants’ task is to ensure the vineyard produces fruit. The parable warns against seizing ownership of the landowners’ vineyard and its’ fruit, against keeping the produce of the vineyard. The fruit of this particular divinely intended vineyard, the kingdom of God fruit if you like – is to be people who indwell the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of love, patience and gentleness, the spirit of wonder and true holiness. These things can’t be owned. They’re not possessions but ways of being and living. We lose our way when we seek to become owners of these things that cannot be possessed. Act as if we’re owners – able to determine and define the boundaries of divine inclusion, able to declare who belongs, who is adequate and the standard by which another, or we ourselves are acceptable. By trying to conform myself to a particular interpretation and understanding, agreeing the parable said one thing, had one right way to be heard and interpreted, I was asking myself to do the very thing the parable cautions against.
The tenant task is to ensure the vineyard, any environment or context we have influence in, is resourced for divine flourishing, for fruitful living to be made real. As tenants we’re to be open minded about where and how such fruit appears, let go our desire to limit, control, determine how that comes to expression and we’re to be open handed for the fruit borne is not ours.
Yes, I think there is a distinct fruit of the vineyard in which we’re located, fruit that’s to go from the vineyard. As tenants we’re tasked with ensuring such fruit is produced and returning it to the One who gifts us life. It may be it’s of benefit to the many and varied vineyards of Gods’ creating. Concretely what might that look like, let’s let real life speak, in the words of Greg Jarrell [1]
“We caught a glimpse of how this might work during the uprising in Charlotte. On the last night, most clergy had gone home to prepare for the important work of addressing their congregations the next day. The only clergy remaining were a pair of us – one black, one white – who did not have Sunday morning responsibilities.
At midnight, the police announced they were going to enforce the curfew that had been in place, though not enforced, for several days. The protest was now illegal. All present were subject to arrest. Police in riot gear arrived. Our energetic, peaceful protest became frenzied and anxious.
Preachers aren’t much account in these sorts of situations. So the Rev. Rodney Sadler and I did the thing that preachers know how to do: we prayed. Each down on one knee, in the middle of the street, we lifted our voices and prayed that there would be no violence. A couple of dozen demonstrators joined us.
Then we began to do the other thing that preachers know how to do: we preached.
Our congregation was a unit of 70 riot police, lined up two deep across Davidson Street outside police headquarters. As we rose to speak, protesters gathered behind us, until only a few feet separated them from the police. The two of us preachers occupied the space between the groups as an altar in the world, pacing back and forth while improvising our sermons.
We reminded those armed with batons, shields, rubber bullets and tear gas that the peaceful protest behind us was composed of their neighbors. We asked them to consider whether obeying orders to harm those neighbors was the moral thing to do. We encouraged them to disobey such orders. We spoke to their humanity, told them they were made by Love to be love in the world.
We named it and claimed it. “It” was peace – if not yet deep, abiding peace, then at least the absence of direct harm.
We can’t tell you why the police packed up their tear gas canisters, put away their batons and got back on the bus. Did prayer change their hearts? We don’t know.
But we do know that if prayer changes anything, it changes us. It makes us bold, ready to speak truth in desperate situations. Prayer moves us to throw our bodies behind our words, because Love would have us do no other.
Showing up happens in the streets – but also in the sanctuary, in the study, in the community meetings we attend, in every sphere where we exercise influence.
Peddlers of the gospel often speak about hope. We believe in a hope that we can’t fully account for. Yet hope-filled moments keep rising up, especially from our young leaders.
As we move into yet more troubling times, their counsel to us is wise:
· Listen carefully to the marginalized, honoring their experiences and work.
· Create spaces in our spheres for the disinherited to speak for themselves.
· Deploy our gifts and privileges in ways that destabilize oppressive systems.
· Show up as ourselves, acting authentically within our roles.
· Keep showing up, especially when it is uncomfortable.”