The prophet Isaiah just threw Israel under the bus. Israel is the vineyard which God had cared for,
cleared, planted and protected. God had sung a love song to beloved Israel, but what happened?
Instead of sweet grapes and a crop of value, all that grew on this hill-top vineyard were wild grapes,
worthless ones. Isaiah is calling the men of Judah wild grapes, not worth all the effort God had put
into the vineyard, had put into Israel. With all of God’s love, tending and care, the vineyard Israel,
did not create social justice, but instead called evil good, leading to bloodshed.
A vineyard is a symbol for Israel as we have just seen from Isaiah. You might recall we have been
talking about vineyards for a few weeks now; the Parable of the Workers in the Vineyard (Mt.
20:1–16), where the worker who worked one hour got paid the same as the one who worked all day.
Last week we looked at the Parable of the Two Sons (Mt. 21:28–32) when the first son said he
would not work in the vineyard but did, and second son said he would work, but didn’t. Today we
hear the third parable about a vineyard very similar to Isaiah’s vineyard, lovingly created by its
owner. Speaking to the religious leaders, Jesus’ third vineyard parable is even more direct than the
last. This one should almost come with a trigger warning. READ Matthew 21:33-46.
Isaiah’s fertile vineyard on the hilltop, reminded me of the Tent of Nations, outside of Bethlehem.
We visited this working vineyard during my trip to Palestine in 2022. Run by Palestinian Christians,
we received a warm welcome, broke bread together and learned of their decades long struggle to
keep their land. Every surrounding hilltop has an illegal Israeli settlement built upon it with soldiers
patrolling and often making life very difficult for this family. The soldiers had placed a barricade so
that our bus could not reach the farm. Their water and power are often cut off, so they live on solar
and cisterns. I am sure the harassment has dramatically intensified since Oct 7, 2023. The Nassar
family are constantly in court trying to get the Israeli government to recognize their legal
documentation of ownership of this land. Documentation dating back to the Ottoman Empire.
Because they are Palestinian and Christian, Israel does not want them. And yet, they remain true to
their “mission to build bridges between people and between people and the land. Through creative
resistance, organic farming, and educational programs, the Tent of Nations seeks to transform
despair into hope and promote understanding, respect, and sustainability.” The Tent of Nations
Easter letter from this year states, “In the face of hardship, we choose faith over fear, hope over
despair, and love over hatred. We refuse to surrender to a spirit of defeat. Instead, we rise as the
people of God, called to be the salt of the Earth and the light of the world”
(https://tentofnations.com/).
This is the kind of vineyard that Isaiah’s poem expects, worthy of a love song, faithful to its calling,
committed to justice and righteousness, seeking restoration rather than vengeance. It was also what
Jesus was hoping for in his parable when he re-interpreted Isaiah’s love-song about a vineyard. But
in telling these parables to the religious leaders, each one more pointed than the last, Jesus is
opening the eyes of the Pharisees to have them look in the mirror and ask, “Which am I?” like we
discussed last week with the Parable of the Two Sons. It seems the parable of the wicked tenants
did its job and got the chief priests and Pharisees to see themselves as the ones being unfaithful to
the landowner, unfaithful to God.
What’s in a vineyard? Violence is in both vineyards. In Isaiah, God planted choice vines, but the
vineyard yielded wild grapes. Simply, God expected justice and righteousness from them, but they
were engaged in bloodshed and injustices. Then the wicked tenants use violence trying to take what
does not belong to them. Beating one, killing another and stoning another. Then do it again on a
larger scale. This violence is disturbing, unsettling. It is hard for me to even picture Jesus telling this
violent parable. Until the landowner sends his son. Jesus takes the familiar vineyard story from
Isiah and gives it a parabolic twist. It’s no longer about the vineyard, the produce, or the tenant
farmers. Now it is about the son, whom they killed, for his inheritance. It’s about the stone which
they rejected. It’s about Jesus. As a commentator writes, “this twist was a Christological one in
which the abused son became “the stone that the builders rejected” (21:42), which, in turn,
determined who was in or out (cf. 21:44). The son who was sent (21:37) must be an allegory for
God’s son, Jesus (cf. 3:17; 17:5). The tenant farmers, who represented the temple leadership, would
be replaced by other tenants (21:41). And, what looked like a landowner’s naiveté (by sending his
son) was really God’s plan: “this was the Lord’s doing” (21:42)” (Working Preacher, Emerson
Powery).
This violent vineyard story helps us to hear the violence of Christ’s death with new ears. We have
heard Jesus died for our sins so many times it loses its power. But when tenants kill slaves, and the
landowner’s son our visceral response to this violence is really for Jesus. The same response we
should have for all the violent killing in Palestine, Gaza, Syria, and Lebanon as Israel decimates
those around them. Let’s be honest, today Israel is killing Palestinians for their inheritance, their
land. Just like the tenant farmers wrongfully killed the landowner’s son, Israel is killing
Palestinians for their land, their inheritance. I just wish we had a parable that would open the eyes
of our leaders to this reality. Make them see that what is happening is genocide.
When Jesus asked the religious leaders what the owner would do to the rebellious tenants, they
responded, “He will put those wretches to miserable death, and lease the vineyard to other tenants
who will give him the produce at the harvest time.” “Little did they know they were condemning
themselves with their answer. You see, the parable was about them. They had been entrusted with
the spiritual care of God’s people. Unfortunately, many of them looked upon it only as a job a way
of earning a good living, a source of prestige and power. They were so set in their ways that they
stoned the prophets who threatened their comfortable life and eventually they crucified God’s own
Son. That’s a warning to every one of us involved in religious work whether as clergy or as laity.
We have a responsibility” (Sermons.com, King Duncan).
I started with the Tent of Nations, a place that shines even while under Israeli occupation and
infuriating acts of violence. Over a thousand of olive trees, some over a hundred years old, burned
and destroyed and two of the Nassar sons were attached and seriously injured by masked men.
“Surrounded by settlements, locked gates, and daily restrictions, the Tent of Nations stands as a
testament to nonviolent resistance and creative perseverance. Here, hope is not abstract; it is
planted, watered, and harvested every day. Every tree planted and every visitor welcomed affirms
the simple truth that love is stronger than fear and that peace must begin with how we live, even
under occupation.
At the Tent of Nations, we continue to cultivate the soil, plant seeds of hope, and believe that a
better future can and must grow from the ground up” (tentofnations.com). I have a picture of a rock
about the size of the rock out front with the cross, that I took at the Tent of Nations. Painted on it is
the proclamation in three different languages, “We refuse to be enemies.” Oh, what a different
world it would be, if more people refuse to be enemies, including us.
Today is World Communion Sunday, when we join with our sisters and brothers around the world
at Christ’s table. We break bread with Christians in Osaka, Berlin, Buenos Aires, and Bethlehem.
Christians unite as one body of Christ within our broken world. Often, we consider the Kum Ba Ya
moment of this tradition; unity, peace, fellowship. Yet in our world today with so much violence,
maybe we need to see the hope that lies in communion, amid the violence. To focus on our
connection to one particular place, like the Tent of Nations, rather than the amorphous whole world
of communion. Because Christ came in the particularity of one man, born of God, yet who knows
our pain. This same man, God’s only son, also suffered death that we might be united in God’s love
and bear witness to justice and righteousness. Jesus became the cornerstone builders rejected, the
Lord’s doing and marvelous in our eyes (Psalm 118:22). Amen.
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