I call today the "three C" Sunday, because of three words
beginning with the letter "c."
The readings are complex. Their
message is crucial. But we have to make
it concrete.
I found three distinct messages in today’s readings, which are closely connected,
and I’d like to deal with them one by one.
The first message is: God is never
the cause of our failure, because he has done all that is needed to assure our
success.
In just a few words, Isaiah sums up the entire history of Israel. The prophet begins by describing God's care
and concern for his people, and then he chronicles their infidelity.
And then comes the rhetorical question.
The owner of the vineyard has done everything possible to assure a
fruitful vineyard. Can it be the fault
of the owner that the harvest is sour grapes?
The answer, of course, is no. It’s not the owner who’s to blame, and
both this reading and the psalm describe what comes next. The vineyard will be trampled and parched.
This scary theme continues in today’s Gospel reading, where Jesus
re-tells Isaiah's story, but with a twist.
The vineyard itself is no longer the focus; the tenants are. And the sour grapes are replaced by vicious
murder.
Clearly, we’re still talking about Israel, but this time her history of
infidelity to God's covenant is overshadowed by a foretelling of the
crucifixion. So there’s our second
message: The ultimate infidelity is the
rejection of God's Son.
On account of this, the vineyard is taken away entirely from the old
tenants, and let out to a new people, the Church.
This reading of the parable is very comfortable. It puts Isaiah, Psalm 80, and the words of
Jesus in a nice historical box. It
doesn't come too close to us, even if we do admit some solidarity with our
ancestors in faith. It's all about the past.
But then Jesus goes and disturbs us in our comfortable pews. The final words of the Gospel today are
"Therefore I tell you, the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and
given to a people that produces the fruit of the kingdom."
I don't want to sound flippant, but we've just been zapped! Historically, Jesus was speaking to the chief
priests and elders who were in his audience, but actually, here and now, he is
speaking to you and to me.
And there’s the third message: We
are the new Israel, the people who must produce the fruits of the kingdom. And if we do not, we’re no better than the
vineyard overrun with weeds, we’re no better than those tenants who scorned the
landowner and killed his son.
In the face of such a direct hit, we might be tempted to do some
spiritual wiggling in order to get back to our comfort zone. After all, I wouldn't kill anyone; and I certainly
would share my produce—if I had a garden.
This is, after all, a parable, and these metaphors can mean what I want
them to mean.
The Word of God does not give us that "out." The New Testament makes it perfectly clear
what God expects from his people. In
Matthew's Gospel, John the Baptist tells the crowds "Bear fruit worthy of
repentance." St. James says that
peacemakers sow seeds that will bear fruit in holiness.
Look at the long catalogue of the gifts of the Spirit which St. Paul
gives in 1 Corinthians chapter 13: Love is always patient and kind; it is never
jealous; it is never rude or selfish, always ready to excuse, to trust, to
hope—what are these but the fruits of the Spirit-filled life?
What are the beatitudes—mercy, poverty of spirit, humility and so on—if
not the fruits which God wants from his vineyard?
We could spend weeks examining ourselves in the light of the harvest of
holiness that Scripture describes in every detail.
And what about the weeds which threaten the vineyard of the Church, the
scandals we hear about from time to time, the tensions in our families, in our
parish, in our lives? How do we pull up the weeds that choke the abundant life
God wants us to live? In other words, how
do we face up to weakness—our own and others’— in light of our Scripture this
morning?
Today's second reading from Paul’s letter to the Philippians suggests
three answers:
First, we should recognize that the Lord of the Harvest is never deaf to
the cry of his people. The psalmist
today acknowledges the sorry state of God's vineyard, but he doesn't hesitate
to say “turn again, O God of hosts”—take another look, don’t give up on this
vine you yourself have planted.
In other words, we must pray for the Church and for ourselves. St. Paul
calls us to peaceful prayer, to a confidence in God's providence that casts out
anxiety and tension. "Do not worry
about anything," he says. Pray
instead.
Second, we must work at it. We must make a conscious effort to grow in the
faithful following of Christ. Keep on
doing the things that you have learned and received, St. Paul says, and the God
of peace will be with you. Scandals in
the Church are most hurtful to those who themselves know they are part of the
problem and not part of the solution. A
calm personal conscience makes it easier to deal with the failures of others,
because you know for yourself that Christian living is not as impossible as the
media wants us to believe.
Finally, we must find our comfort in Christ. St. Paul says that God's peace will guard our
hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.
If you feel sometimes that life’s just too much for you, you’re probably
right. But it’s not too much for the
Lord, who gives peace to those who ask Him.
So when you get right down to it, today's message isn’t all that complex. But
it’s crucial for Christians living in the concrete circumstances that each of
us face every day in the vineyard of the Lord.