Sermon, October 6, 2002
20 Pentecost -- Proper 22, Year A
The Rev. Lowell E. Grisham
St. Paul's Episcopal Church
Fayetteville, Arkansas

Gospel: Matthew 21:33-43 The Parable of the Wicked Tenants 

Parables are usually surprising. And, they are often subversive. Jesus used simple stories, parables, to break his listeners out of their conventional thinking and their conventional morality in order to surprise them with a new thing, a new way of thinking, a new way of being. Often it was very uncomfortable, especially to the comfortable.

Now, every time I’ve preached on the Parable of the Wicked Tenants, I’ve preached a pretty conventional sermon. I’ve interpreted it the way the writer Matthew probably intended it to be interpreted, and the way most preachers have preached it for a couple of thousand years. But looking deeper at this parable, thinking more about its original context and how it was originally heard, I’ve been surprised. And I think Jesus’ listeners were pretty surprised too.

Let’s begin with the old way of preaching this story. It’s usually interpreted as an allegory of our salvation history. The vineyard is Israel. God, the owner of the vineyard, has planted a beautiful vineyard, complete with a protecting hedge and lookout tower to keep animals and enemies from damaging the crop. The tenant farmers represent the leaders of Israel who have been corrupt and disobedient to the owner. God sends prophets to Israel over and over, and the leaders reject them. Finally, God sends his only Son, and he is beaten, thrown out of the vineyard, and killed, just as Jesus was tortured and then crucified outside the walls of God’s city Jerusalem. Then comes the punch line. The parable leads them to the logical conclusion. When the day of the Lord comes, God will wreak vengeance upon those leaders and will replace them with a new people who will obey God’s will. Matthew’s listeners would have already experienced the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 a.d. and could nod their heads with confirmation that the rise of the Church throughout the Jewish Diaspora was the passing over of God’s kingdom to a new people. Centuries of Christians have heard that story and cluck-cluck-clucked with satisfaction. Of course, the kingdom has passed from them to us.

But it may not be that simple. Let’s look at this story again, first in the light of a little economics. The land of Palestine in the first century enjoyed a good climate for farming and herding. It was located near favorable land and sea trade routes. Palestine was a great place to get rich, and as is usually the case, it was the wealthy who were in a position to take advantage of that opportunity.

During the Roman occupation most of the farm land, especially in Jesus’ home district of Galilee, was controlled by foreign owners. They would make minimal investments in the property and try to maximize their return. That’s good business. During the long reign of King Herod the Great, crop surpluses were common. But most of the food was exported, and Palestine itself experienced regular food shortages. The food shortages drove up the prices. That economic stress combined with Rome and Jerusalem’s high taxes drove many of the poor into indentured servitude. They would sell themselves in order to provide food for their families.

The tenant farmers had freedom, but they didn’t fare much better. They would rent the land from the absentee landlords, work long hours for long seasons, and return the lion’s share of the profit to the foreign owner. Typically the tenants barely provided enough food to keep their families alive. And Pilate the Governor was ruthless in his willingness to suppress any possibility of rebellion. As is so often true, the power of the state and the economic interests of the powerful were intricately tied together.

So here’s the picture: abundant crops, food shortages, and absentee landlords. How do you think Jesus’ listeners felt about a story where the tenants get fed up and take matters into their own hands? The death of a few landlord’s servants, or even their kin, would not cause any tears in Galilee. This was an oppressive system. Anyone hearing this story would have been rooting for the workers. They also would have known the predictable outcome of the workers’ rebellion. They would be dealt with ruthlessly, a miserable death. That’s the way it’s always been.

With that picture in mind, imagine how shocked his listeners would be when Jesus uses the image of the hated absentee landlord as an image for God. And imagine how they would feel hearing Jesus condemning the violence of those poor tenants. "The kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that produces the fruits of the kingdom." What does he mean? I think that the key moment that gives us a clue to Jesus’ message is the passage that comes between the story and its punch line.

At the end of the parable, when Jesus asks his listeners, "What will the owner do?" they answer predictably, "He will put those wretches to a miserable death." That’s the way works in a power-driven society. That’s just the way it is. But Jesus never gives that answer, nor supports it. Instead, he quotes from Psalm 118: "The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; this was the Lord’s doing, and it is amazing in our eyes."

I think that’s the key. God didn’t send an army to crush the oppressors. No, God sent his gentle son who is rejected. He dies. And then God raises him from the dead. This is truly amazing in our eyes. This is the new life and the new thing that God is doing. It’s a new kind of power. A kind of power that gives life instead of taking it.

So Jesus winds up condemning the anger and the violence of the tenants. He illustrates the ancient truth – violence begets violence. And he leaves his listeners hanging with the ugly consequences of a power-driven society, silently condemning them for their lack of imagination and hope and faith. "Haven’t you heard the scriptures?" he chides them. It’s not about power and violence. It’s about the rejected stone. It’s about the path not taken – the path of faith and hope and imagination. It’s about love, a love so steadfast that it is willing to be rejected, hoping in faith that the power of God will nonetheless bring about resurrection.

This is an utterly different way of being. And it is subversive to conventional ways of doing things. Conventional, power-driven thinking tells us you’ve got to step in with a little tough authority when you are challenged. You don’t pussy-foot around with petty dictators! You put those wretches to a miserable death. But Jesus wades into this violence and this injustice and says that it is the tossed-aside that is the keystone – the little and the lost and the loser. That’s who the kingdom is for. And the fruits of that kingdom are not power and control, they are "love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control." (Gal. 5:22f)

But, they didn’t believe him. Or maybe they did. Maybe they were so afraid that this subversive way of being would undermine all of the power structures that their authority was based on. And he became the "stone that the builders rejected," put to a miserable death. That should show him. Power is what wins in this world. Love loses.

Easter turns everything around. "This was the Lord’s doing, and it is amazing in our eyes." God raises Love from the dead and invites everyone into the new work that God is doing. The only problem... It’s just as hard for us to believe that love and faith and hope really wins in the end over power and control and violence. We’re in the same place as Jesus’ original hearers. Will we respect the Son? Or will we in our desperate fear continue to believe this is a power-driven world, and so perpetuate the vicious cycle of violence?

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