“What more was there to
do for my vineyard that I have not done in it? When I expected it to yield
grapes, why did it yield wild grapes?” (Isaiah
5:4)
The pictures on TV are
freaky enough. I can’t even begin to imagine what actually living in some of
the cities of Ukraine must be like now. Think about it: one minute you’re on
the street going to the market, the next there’s a big BOOM and the
neighborhood where you and your neighbors lived is nothing but a pile of
smoking bricks and indistinguishable trash. You have to ask yourself where
you’re going to sleep tonight, where are you going to get food, and where are
your family members and friends—are they still alive?
Or, perhaps, you’re
living in a small town in Oklahoma when the sirens go off and everyone heads
for the basement. You hear the rhythmic sound of the ferocious wind screaming
like the wheels of a freight train. You come out from the cellar and find what
was once your house is just a pile of sticks.
These are images which
come to my mind when I read the First Lesson appointed in the RCL for Pentecost
19, Year A (Isaiah 5:1-7). The prophet uses the image of the vineyard to
foretell the destruction of Jerusalem. The people of Judah have abandoned the
Law of God. They’ve neglected to produce the good fruits of justice and
fairness and mercy, but have produced the wild grapes (which, in the Hebrew,
might actually translate as “rotten” or “inedible” grapes) of indifference,
greed, and cruelty. God, in justice, will not protect them from the
consequences of their own shallow disobedience and allows their city and land
to be overrun and destroyed by an enemy army. If we think of images of war
zones or scenes of climate disasters in our own time we might get an idea of
the overwhelming sense of loss those ancient Judeans experienced.
In the appointed gospel
lesson (Matthew21:33-46) Jesus borrows from Isaiah’s image of the vineyard, but
he doesn’t blame the grapes—just the people who tend them. Whenever I read this
passage I always feel a certain need to apologize for it—or at least for the
gloss Matthew’s gospel puts on it. Let’s not do the anti-Semitic thing and see
the wicked vineyard tenants as the Jews and the new tenants as the virtuous
Christians. We’d be much wiser to cast ourselves in the role of the tenants and
recognize that a church which cares only about individual salvation and not
about the needs of God’s children is doomed to wither away.
It might not be that
apparent, but there’s actually some gospel in both of these readings. In the
Isaiah text, the owner of the vineyard (let’s make that analogous of God) has
really done a first-rate job in providing everything the vineyard needs. God
does not give us a mission without providing the means of accomplishing it. We
have been given stewardship of a beautiful planet, and every day God provides
for our needs. Hunger does not exist because of overpopulation but because of
under distribution. We may not always appreciate what God has done, but God is always
doing it.
In Jesus’ parable, the
vineyard owner is also a bounteous giver, but Jesus enlarges this illustration
to show that the owner’s great patience and forbearance. No matter how evil the
tenants are—and they’re pretty evil!—the owner is ready to give them another
chance to repent. Anyone who has ever made repeated overtures to an obdurate
child or disloyal or distant friend knows both the pain and the love the owner
displays in this story. The prophet Joel sums up the inherent message in a passage
which has become part of our Lenten liturgy:
“Return
to the Lord your God, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, abounding
in steadfast love.”[i]
It always
amazes me how many chances God gives us to do the right thing. Our earth faces
a huge challenge from the climate we humans have so disastrously effected, but
God is still granting us time, creativity, and the resources to be better
stewards of our vineyard if we have the faith and obedience to take advantage
of such gifts.
God is
good even in our disobedience. We might consider that the punishment suffered
by the Judeans after the fall of Jerusalem, the terrible time of the Exile, was
a turning point in the history of God’s people. Some of the most poignant
literature of the Hebrew Scriptures was very likely written during this time.
God used this period of mourning and reflection to forge a new identity for God’s
people. Trauma and loss will always change us, but we are given the free will
to decide whether we’ll turn in on ourselves and become bitter and resentful or
whether we’ll course correct and become more grateful, more compassionate, and
more open to God’s will. We can’t go back to being who we were, but we can
rejoice in who we’ve become.
Finally,
we need to believe the vineyard never goes to waste. God’s will is done either
through us or in spite of us. For the desolate vineyard of Isaiah’s
illustration, the briars and thorns may become home for the sort of creatures
that prefer that habitat. New tenants will replace the disobedient lot who produced
no fruit in Jesus’ parable. Churches which close will yield funding for new
ministries. God’s Word will endure, and we must not lose heart.
No comments:
Post a Comment