Isaiah 5:1-7; Matthew 21:33-46
Presented October 2, 2011, by Joel Kline
The Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost
In Hebrew literature the image of a vineyard is frequently used to speak of Israel, the community of God’s people. In this morning’s lesson from Isaiah, chapter 5, for example, a love song is being sung to the vineyard, a love song underscoring how deeply the landowner, God, cares for and has tended the land, digging and clearing the area of stones, planting choice vines in the soil. But the tenor quickly shifts from love song to lament, as the poet notes that the land, intended to yield lush grapes, instead yields only wild grapes. Concludes the prophet, “For the vineyard of the Lord of hosts is the house of Israel, and the people of Judah are God’s pleasant planting; [yet] God expected justice, but saw bloodshed; righteousness, but heard a cry” (5:7).
These are powerful words reminding us that faith and transformation go hand in hand. The ancient Israelites lost sight of this fundamental truth, in the process allowing violence and bloodshed to replace justice; instead of living rightly and compassionately, instead of embracing their partnership with God, the people turned a deaf ear to the cries of the poor and the oppressed in their midst. The vineyard’s vision had become blurred; no longer did the people take hold of their high calling, to be the light of the world and to give witness to a new reality, life in God’s realm. The people ignore what Isaiah, later in his writings, affirms as Israel’s call, “to blossom and put forth shoots, and fill the whole world with fruits” of justice, compassion, peace, and right living (see Isaiah 27:6).
The prophet’s lament carries a contemporary ring, does it not? Do we not find ourselves caught in a spiral of brokenness, suspicion, violence, and fear—both in our culture, and sadly, in much of the church as well? In his book The Heart of Christianity Marcus Borg speaks of our continuing need for a “hatching of the heart.” It is a matter of opening ourselves fully to the goodness of our God, and when we do so, discovering life that is indeed transformed. New life is hatched. God’s transforming spirit recreates our hearts and directs us along pathways of faithful living. Surely it is the yearning for just such a hatching of the heart that led Dag Hammarskjold, United Nations General Secretary from 1953 to 1961, to pen in his spiritual journal,
Give us pure hearts, that we may see you;
Humble hearts, that we may hear you;
Hearts of love, that we may serve you;
Hearts of faith, that we may abide in you.
Life in Christ centers upon this experience of receiving new hearts, open hearts, hearts of compassion, hearts filled with wonder and gratitude and generosity, hearts focused on justice and peace, hearts that embrace right living. Surely this is what Jesus has in mind, when giving voice to the parable that forms today’s Gospel lesson. It is a parable that builds upon Hebrew Scripture’s likening of the people of God to a vineyard. Apparently Jesus was every bit as drawn to this vineyard metaphor as were the prophets of ancient Israel, so much so that you may have noticed that each of the Gospel parables in recent weeks has centered on a vineyard. Two weeks ago we pondered the perplexing parable of the vineyard laborers, some of whom toiled all day in the heat of the sun, others for briefer periods of time, yet each worker receiving the same pay. Last Sunday we looked at the two sons asked to labor in their father’s vineyard: the first who initially said No, yet had a change of heart and performed the requested task, and the second, quick to say Yes, but failing to follow through. And in today’s text Jesus relates the tale of a landowner who leases his vineyard to tenants.
Jesus tells the three parables at a critical juncture in his ministry. He has only just entered the city of Jerusalem to the shouts and acclaim of cheering crowds on that initial Palm Sunday, and in subsequent days spends time teaching in and around the temple. While many are drawn to his message, others are threatened by it, and still others—including many of the religious leaders of the day—are so appalled by what Jesus has to say that they begin plotting his arrest and death. What is it that those leaders found so disturbing, if not Jesus’ constant prodding that we live life differently—taking hold of a new set of values, a new life perspective, a hatching of the heart?
Jesus—as well as the ancient prophets before him—ever urges us to imagine something radically new, life in which we let go of self-centeredness and greed while embracing the pathway of self-giving love and servanthood, peacemaking and reconciliation, compassion and right living. It’s a way of living that many in the world around us dismiss as utter foolishness. Peter Gomes, in his book The Scandalous Gospel of Jesus, puts it this way: “A person is truly free only when he or she can stand in one world but belong to another, which is why true believers are so annoying to those who are bound by the demands and desires of this world alone.”
Turn again with me to today’s parable, in which the landowner has leased the vineyard to tenants. Harvest time is approaching, and the landowner sends servants to “collect his produce” (Matthew 21:34). Note that the landowner is not asking merely for a portion of the produce. In his commentary on Matthew’s Gospel Rick Gardner suggests that this request “alludes to God’s total claim on Israel and an expectation of a full harvest of good works.” The tenants, however, decide that they owe nothing to the landowner, and so they seize the servants, beating one, killing another, and stoning yet another. When word of this abusive treatment of his servants reaches the landowner, he sends a second group of servants, more than were in the first group, but once again the group is met with hostility and violence.
Distressed by this abusive treatment of his servants, the landowner at last determines to send his son, reasoning that surely “they will respect my son.” But instead the tenants say to one another, “This is the heir; come, let us kill him and get his inheritance” (21:37-38). Do you not hear vivid echoes of the Isaiah 5 poem, with God expecting justice, but seeing only violence and bloodshed, God anticipating righteousness among God’s people but hearing only the cries of those whom they oppress?
The parable serves as a plea to the opponents of Jesus—those religious leaders of the day more concerned for position and status than for justice and compassion, more interested in how they might control others than in how they might lead those same persons to reflect the upside-down values of another realm, the kingdom of God. Yet today, the parable prods us to self-examination, for do we not all too often find ourselves betraying this kind of risky faith for something softer, something far more comfortable? All too frequently, do we not turn away from God’s vision of a vineyard, a community of God’s people, who partner in the pursuit of justice, compassion, and right living?
You may remember the story of Morrie Schwartz, made familiar some years ago through Mitch Albom’s book Tuesdays with Morrie. Morrie was Mitch’s college professor, now struggling with Lou Gehrig’s disease, and Mitch began spending time each Tuesday with Morrie, drawing from his rich life wisdom. On one occasion Morrie laments to Mitch, “So many people walk around with a meaningless life. They seem half-asleep, even when they’re busy doing things they think are important. This is because they’re chasing the wrong things. The way you get meaning into your life is to devote yourself to loving others, devote yourselves to the community around you, and devote yourself to creating something that gives you purpose and meaning.”
Jesus was convinced that many in his day, even many in the religious community, were chasing the wrong things. Our calling—is it not?—is to chase the right things in life, to allow our hearts to be hatched, to pray the prayer, “Give us pure hearts, that we may see you; humble hearts, that we may hear you; hearts of love, that we may serve you; hearts of faith, that we may abide in you.” With open hearts, hearts of gratitude and wonder, generosity and grace, we become partners in right living. We become God’s vineyard. May it be so! Amen.