Posts Tagged ‘wicked tenants’

Who’s vineyard is it anyway?

October 3, 2020

Pentecost 18 – 2020

Matthew 21:31-46

Marian Free

May I speak in the name of God, Creator, Death-defier and Empowerer. Amen. 

By all accounts I was wise not to try to watch the Trump/Biden debate during the week. I hear that it was a complete debacle and not a debate at all. At its best the Presidential debate (or indeed any debate between potential leaders) is intended to allow the candidates to lay out their positions and their polices and to attack and criticise their opponent’s policies and positions. Each person hopes to expose the inadequacies and flaws both of their opponents’ policies and of their capacity to lead. A skilful debater will present their position in a way most likely to gain the attention and sympathy of the audience (voters). He or she will frame questions that force the other to state something in a way that plays into their own argument or they will bait the other candidate until that person says something unwise that can (in that debate or at a later time) be used against them.

Today’s parable about the vineyard and the “wicked tenants” has to be seen in the context of this sort of debate. Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem and his subsequent actions in the Temple have given him the ascendancy over the leaders (secular and religious) in Jerusalem. He has gained the attention and the loyalty of the crowds – at least for now.  Threatened and anxious about losing their place in the community the various leaders approach Jesus in turn, each trying to trap him or expose him in argument. 

The question with which this section of Matthew’s gospel began was about authority. The chief priests and elders ask: “By what authority are you doing these things, and who gave you this authority?” The leaders, who have authority by virtue of their role and wealth, hope to demonstrate to the crowds that Jesus has no legitimacy in the wider community and certainly no authority to teach and to heal. They hope to expose him as a charlatan, and thereby to re-establish their own positions of leadership among the people.

Jesus is not so easy to ensnare. He responds by turning the table on his opponents. Firstly, he asks them a question that he knows that they will not be able to answer. Then, pressing his advantage, Jesus continues by telling three parables that are intended to support his own claim to authority while at the same time exposing the illegitimacy of the Jerusalem establishment.

The parable of the vineyard uses imagery from Isaiah 5. Though Jesus begins the parable in the same way, he takes it in a very different direction. In both instances we are to assume that it is God who has planted the vines, built a watchtower and dug out a wine vat. The results of the planting are very different. In Isaiah, despite the best efforts of the one who planted the vine, the yield is no good. The vine (Israel) produces wild grapes. As a consequence, the vineyard is abandoned to the elements, which in turn leads to its destruction. In contrast, as Jesus retells the parable, the issue is not the quality of the fruit but the desire of the tenants to have control over the yield. It is a matter of who gets what and how do they get it.

Absentee landlords were a common feature of the Palestinian landscape. Soldiers, senators and others loyal to Caesar were rewarded with tracts of land in the nations that had been conquered by Rome. That did not mean that the recipients wanted to live so far from the centre of power. Their land was leased to tenants who were expected to look after the land and its crop in return for a portion of what was produced. 

On a superficial level Jesus’ parable is a short history of Israel who shunned and even killed those whom God sent to bring them back to God and a prediction of what is about to happen to the son (Jesus), who like the prophets has been sent to disrupt the status quo and to reassert God’s sovereignty over the people of Israel. In the context of Jesus’ debate with the chief priests and elders, the underlying issue must be seen as one of authority. By killing, first of all the slaves, and then the son, the tenants are trying to establish control over the distribution of the crop. They are claiming responsibility for the vineyard and therefore for the fruit. Killing the son will only establish what they already believe to be true – that the crop is the result of their efforts and is therefore theirs. 

We are to believe that the tenants are the chief priests and elders against whom Jesus tells this parable. His point seems to be that they have such a high opinion of themselves and are so confident of their roles as leaders of the church that they believe that any growth, any success (failure) is a result of their efforts. In other words, they have taken upon themselves something that is essentially God’s. Given that Jesus is telling this parable about the chief priests and the elders, it appears that Jesus is accusing them of trying to take over the vineyard or in other words trying to take God’s place in the life of Israel. The authority that they claim for themselves is authority taken and not bestowed. Worse it fails to acknowledge God’s ultimate authority.

It is easy for us to sit back and pass judgement on the egocentric, power-hungry leaders of the first century. But, just as Jesus takes a story from centuries past and applies it to his own generation, so we need to understand what this parable is saying – not to the chief priests and elders – but to us and to the church of ourday. 

Imagining that Jesus is critiquing us and our desire to be in control, we could ask ourselves some questions. As church, do we really understand ourselves to be tenant farmers producing a crop for the landowner (God), or do we, like the leaders of the Jerusalem community feel that we need to be in control of the outcomes? Do we believe that the fruit that is produced (if there is fruit) belongs to God or do we want to claim all the credit (and the fruit) for ourselves? In these times of COVID are we afraid to cede control of the vineyard (the church) and the crop (the results of our efforts to maintain the church) to God or do we need to retain our control? 

So much of our (the church’s) effort over the course of my life (50+years) has been expended on worrying about the future of the church – as if it all depended on us and on our own individual and collective efforts. This parable reminds us whose church it is and who has ultimate authority. When God asks for what is God’s, let us pray that we have the grace to let go and let God have what is God’s.

Self preservation

October 7, 2017

Pentecost 18 – 2017

Matthew 21:33-46

Marian Free

 

In the name of God in whom and with whom we have our being. Amen.

The annual Synod of the Diocese was held two weekends ago. There were not many controversial things on the agenda and only one piece of legislation to pass. One thing that absorbed a great deal of time was a presentation that is now a regular part of the Synod proceedings – the Diocesan statistics. Each year I (and every other priest) in the Diocese are obliged to provide information regarding how many people came to church in that year, how many were buried, married or baptised and so on. As you may guess from looking around, those numbers can be quite sobering. Only a few parishes in the Diocese are growing, many are remaining stable and a good few are declining in numbers.

The publication of these figures leads to a great deal of navel gazing and worrying about how we can halt the decline and build the church. I am a firm believer in being accountable and I think that it is important that we know how we are travelling, but I do worry that our concern is as much about self- preservation as it is about the future of the gospel, that worrying about our numbers makes us inward rather than outward focussed. Worse, I wonder whether we are so busy worrying about what is happening to the church and asking ourselves what we can do to maintain it, that we risk being unaware of that God might be doing something new, exciting and different. Alternatively, we are so inwardly focussed that anything new and exciting and different is seen not as a gift from God, but as something against we must protect our traditions and our structures.

Self-preservation certainly seems to be a concern of the Chief Priests, the elders, the scribes and the Pharisees of Jesus’ day. Jesus was seen as a threat and not a gift. He was unconventional and popular and nothing could convince them that he was God’s plan for the future of the church. Instead of welcoming Jesus as a gift from God, they closed ranks, trying to protect their position, their status and their authority – all of which required the church and its traditions to remain unchanged. Jesus represented a to the stability of the system that they were so carefully preserving.

Today’s gospel is set in the Temple. It is a small section of an ongoing dispute between Jesus and the chief priests and elders. They are worried that Jesus’ popularity and his refusal to maintain their traditions and are attempting to discredit and diminish him. Jesus turns the tables by telling the parable of the wicked tenants in order to expose their agenda. The parable likens the chief priests and elders to tenants who want to hold on to what they have at any cost. The leaders have forgotten that it was the landlord (God) who planted the vineyard, built the fence, installed the wine press and built a watchtower. The tenants, like the chief priests and elders have become so absorbed in themselves and their own roles, that they have lost sight of the fact that they are working in God’s vineyard. In the slaves and in the son, they see a threat to their comfortable existence, a threat that must be destroyed even though it has a legitimate claim on their attention.

In Jesus’ day the chief priests, scribes, Pharisees and elders have come to believe that responsibility for the vineyard (church) and for its future resides with them – that God has, in effect, abrogated all responsibility to them. They are so sure that they know what God wants that they cannot allow anyone (even Jesus) to unsettle the boat.

In 1182 in a small town in the north of Italy, Francis di Bernadone was born into the family of a wealthy merchant. Francis, like many rich young men of his day was something of a playboy and, influenced by the ideals of medieval chivalry, he longed to make a name for himself on the battlefield. His first foray into battle led to his imprisonment and his second was thwarted by an encounter with Christ that led him to spend time in prayer and to provide for the poor. Francis’ generosity and piety caused his Father such concern that he had him called before the Bishop’s court. Francis’ response was to strip naked. He was renouncing wealth, status and power and placing all his confidence in God.

Sometime later when Francis was praying in the ruins of a church, he heard the voice of Christ saying: “Build my church”. He understood that he was to spread the gospel to the world not to shore up the institution of the church. He began to preach anywhere and everywhere and, so compelling was his message, that within weeks he was joined by three other young men who within a short time became twelve. Francis did not need to accumulate goods, power or respect, he understood that he was doing God’s work and that his role was to tend the vines that God had planted, and to acknowledge that the growth belonged to God.

He and his companions wandered the countryside preaching the gospel to all who would listen. Because Francis had given up everything, he, unlike the leaders of the first century church had nothing to lose. Because he recognised the absolute sovereignty of God in his life, he was not threatened or intimidated by those who came to share his work in the vineyard, he did not need to take credit for his work, and he certainly had no need to refuse entry to others whom God sent. Francis’ complete and utter dependence on God freed him to serve God selflessly expecting no reward except the privilege of serving God. In direct contrast to the wicked tenants who represented the leaders of Jesus’ day, Francis recognised that everything came from God and that he owed everything to God.

As we watch in despair as our numbers decline, as we wonder what the future of the church will be, we do well to remember today’s parable – the church is not ours but God’s and that God can see a future for the gospel even if we cannot. In the 21st century, we may have to entertain the idea that once again we are being asked to give back to God what is God’s and that are being asked to recognise God in unexpected voices and unexpected people. The question we must ask ourselves is this: are we open to the possibility that God might be ready to do something different, or are we determined to hold on to what we have at any cost?

 

Knowing uncertainty

October 4, 2014

Pentecost 17
Matthew 21:23-32, Mark 12:1-12, Luke 20:9-19, Gospel of Thomas 65-66
Marian Free

In the name of God who cannot be pinned down or contained by the limits of human understanding. Amen.

It is easy to be overwhelmed by the issues that confront our world in the second decade of the twenty-first century. Climate change, people trafficking, the Ebola virus, poverty, natural disaster and the displacement of people due to war or civil strife are among the many crises that are facing the world at the present time. Of all these concerns the one that is most exercising our minds and the one that has focussed the attention of our politicians and our media is that of fundamentalism and the violence that ensues as a result of a narrow view of religion and of the attempt to impose that view on others. At the moment our attention is caught by those who call themselves Islamic State in Iraq and Syria but we should not forget that the Taliban are still active in Afghanistan and that Boko Haran is still wreaking terror in Northern Nigeria.

Fundamentalism is a fairly recent phenomenon. It arose in the nineteenth century among the millenarian movements in the United States. According to the Oxford Dictionary it is a form of religion especially Protestant Christianity or Islam, that upholds belief in the strict, literal interpretation of scripture. Among Christians it is usually a reaction to social and political change and to the theory of evolution. Islamic fundamentalism arose in the eighteenth and nineteenth century as a reaction to the disintegration of Islamic economic and political power. I cannot speak for Islam, but for nineteen centuries Christians felt no need for a literal interpretation of scripture. Believers and scholars alike were happy to understand stories such as Genesis 1 as just that, stories. They saw no need to insist that the world was created in just seven days but were content to understand God’s creative energy behind the universe.

There are a number of problems with fundamentalism of which the most serious is a belief that the human mind is able to interpret the mind of God or that any human being can presume that they have the authority to impose the will of God on others. While I would in no way defend the violence and brutality of the militant Islamists, I would urge us to be cautious about feelings of moral outrage and moral superiority and remember of our own checkered history and the hurtful, harmful ways in which we have used our own scriptures – to engage in the Crusades, to defend slavery and domestic violence and to disempower women and children.

Today’s gospel is a good deterrent against fundamentalism if for no other reason than that there are four different versions of the story and, if Scott is to be believed, it is impossible to determine which of these is closest to what Jesus actually said or what he wanted us to learn. Those who have transmitted the parable have each added their own particular slant in the re-telling. Matthew, for example wants his readers to understand that the Jesus’ community are the true Israel, the ones to whom the owner of the vineyard will entrust it. Mark adapts the parable in such a way that it is very clear that it is a reference to the life of Jesus (the beheading of the second servant seems to point to John the Baptist and the language “beloved Son” is reminiscent of Jesus’ baptism). Both Mark and Matthew begin with a quote about vineyards from Isaiah. In the Old Testament, the image of a vineyard is often used of the nation of Israel. Luke omits this reference perhaps as verse 16 suggests, he wants to make it clear that it is not Israel as a whole that will be destroyed, but only the leaders of Israel. Luke also adds the detail that the son, having been killed, was thrown out of the vineyard – he wasn’t even afforded a burial.

The fourth version of this story is found, not in the Bible, but in the Gospel of Thomas – one of the documents uncovered by a farmer in northern Egypt in 1945. In the Gospel of Thomas the parable is only two verses long but it can be argued that whoever recorded it in this form also had an agenda. The focus here is on knowledge and on the failure of the tenants to recognise the messenger and therefore the one who sent him.

It is tempting to try tease out the differences between the four accounts to try to unearth the original. This approach is fraught with difficulty. Whichever way we look at the story, there are a lot of things that just don’t make sense. Why, when the first servant is killed, is another sent? And why, when the second servant is killed does the owner send his son and heir? If the owner has the capacity to destroy the tenants, why does he hold off until his son is killed? In a culture in which honour is paramount, the owner of the vineyard has been shamed not once, but three times and spectacularly so when his son and heir is killed and thrown out of the vineyard.

It may be impossible to discover the original parable or to determine exactly what message Jesus meant us to hear. What we can do is learn about the agenda of the various Gospel writers and the message that they wanted to promote and to understand the reason why a parable or a healing is told in a particular way. An acceptance that the Gospel writers have told the story in different ways to achieve their different ends, is a great deterrent against fundamentalism. It reminds us that we cannot be 100% sure about the meaning of any text and that we need to keep on exploring, seeking to know more about the God revealed by Jesus.

In today’s uncertain time, the very worst that can happen is that we react to fundamentalism with a fundamentalism of our own, that we respond the the present situation by ramping up our own claim to truth and to knowing the mind of God, that we resort to hurling cheap slogans or that we hide behind our own rhetoric and our own self-justification. Our answers should lead us not to certainty, but to new questions, which will lead to new answers and to new questions until at last we are drawn into the fulness of God when all will become clear and god will be all-in-all.