19 Pentecost 2023
For the scripture appointed for this Sunday, go to:
https://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/texts.php?id=162
Israel is in the news this morning due to the attack by Hamas and the conflict now returning on the 50th anniversary of the October War of 1973. Like every other issue in the public mind these days, I know there are starkly different points of view about Israel out there. I hope we are praying for all those involved in the conflict, and particularly for those who have lost their lives or their loved ones.
Anti-semitism in history can in part be laid at Matthew’s door. Matthew, a Jewish Christian, wrote his gospel during a fierce conflict between the Pharisees and Jewish Christians, that had resulted in the expulsion of Jewish believers in Jesus from Jewish synagogues. Matthew wrote at the very moment the church went from being a sect of Judaism to being a new religion separate from Judaism.
But Matthew loved Judaism, and he loved Jews. His issue was with Jewish leadership, and this was Jesus’ issue as well.
Here in chapter 21 of Matthew’s gospel, we hear how Jesus led his crowds of mostly poor Galileans through the gates of the big city, Jerusalem, and immediately took over the temple courtyard, violently expelling the moneychangers there, who made a living trading Jewish shekels for Roman coin; to many Jews, a blasphemous assimilation to Roman culture.
In doing this, Jesus assured his own crucifixion. For this last week of his life, Jesus would tread a tightrope, hiding out at night to avoid arrest and coming into the temple by day with the crowds to preach his revolutionary message.
Most of chapter 21 is about the temple authorities, the chief priests and elders of the people, challenging Jesus’ authority to do these things, and Jesus’ multi-pronged response. You heard some of it last week when Rev. Nell preached on the parable of the two sons.
In today’s parable, Jesus seems to be threatening the temple authorities. The landowner is God, the vineyard is Israel, the tenants her leaders, the servants of the landowner the prophets, and the son of the landowner is, of course, the son of God. Jesus seems to be telling the troubled history of Israel’s kings and temple priesthood, who often ignored, persecuted or outright killed the prophets God sent to speak his word to them, culminating finally in the son being sent and himself being slaughtered. The lesson of the parable, as the temple authorities themselves say, seems to be that God is going to come and put them to a miserable death, and turn Israel over to other leaders who will listen to God.
But like most of Jesus’ parables, it is not as it seems.
The temple authorities give their interpretation, but then Jesus answers with a quote from Psalm 118: “the stone that the builders rejected has become the chief cornerstone.”
What? This doesn’t seem to have anything to do with the parable. We were talking about vineyards and tenants and now we’re talking about a building project?
Jesus, it seems clear, is talking about his own resurrection and ascension to the right hand of God. He is the stone the builders are rejecting. He is the son of the Lord of the vineyard.
In other words, the temple authorities were wrong when they said that the lord of the vineyard would come and kill the wicked tenants. Instead, the lord of the vineyard will raise his son from the dead, thus destroying the power of the tenants. The temple authorities will lose their authority not because they were wicked and violent, but because they believed that God is wicked and violent.
It seems that a lot of Christians these days need to believe that God is violent and vengeful, possibly because these Christians themselves are angry about what they see as the moral failure of their society. They need to believe that they are right and society is wrong. They need to believe they will be vindicated. The only joy they look forward to is schadenfreude, the joy of seeing their enemies suffer.
This is the false god the temple authorities have given themselves over to, the god who rewards the few and punishes the many, the god who sent one brutal oppressor after another to stomp on God’s people, the god who, they would say, punishes Israel for the sins of the very people Jesus had brought into the temple courtyards, the poor of Galilee.
But Jesus confronts them with their blindness to God’s grace. What kind of landowner would not immediately respond with force the very first time the wicked tenants attacked his messengers? Why would he try a peaceful approach yet again? Why, after the second attack on his messengers, would he send his own son?
Like many of Jesus’ parables, it’s not until you begin to question the parable that Jesus’ hidden message begins to emerge. This Lord of the vineyard is not like other landowners. He is exceptionally patient and kind. He remains faithful to whatever contract he has worked out with his tenants, despite their unfaithfulness.
And then, when they kill the son, the landowner doesn’t come and murder them all, as landowners in that time and place certainly would have done, but instead raises his son from the dead, destroying the one power behind all human authority, the power of death.
God has come near, but he has not come near to destroy the living. He has come near to raise the dead.
Moses said an interesting thing when the people cowered before God and said they wouldn’t listen to God because they believed God would kill them.
Moses said, “Don’t be afraid, God has come just to test you and put the fear of him upon you, so that you may not sin.”
Moses was speaking of two kinds of fear, one to be avoided, and the other to be embraced. The first kind, fear of God the Slayer, is a false fear. God is not like human authorities who get drunk on the blood of their enemies. Believing so leads to idolatry and all that comes with it. Most of all, it makes for angry and violent believers.
But the fear of God Moses speaks of isn’t awe, as some like to say, but rather a righteous spirit, one that tests us and empowers us to do right. It’s God’s own Spirit, a different order of conscience, one that joins us to God and to each other in covenantal love. It’s a passion for him and for each other, a passion that reflects his passion for us.
I’ve always thought that Paul’s letter to the church in the city of Philippi should be the main text our church should take its mission and identity from. Right?
Paul here is reflecting on his Jewish identity, his perfect obedience to the 613 laws of Moses, which, compared to his new identity in Christ, he counts as trash. He’s comparing the huge difference between the constant, fear-laden struggle with one’s own sinful nature, a struggle that, if we’re really honest, must finally lead us to resent God as a vengeful and demanding tyrant, and particularly to resent our neighbors for their failures as well.
God’s nearness is for life and not for death, for forgiveness and renewal, and not for condemnation and destruction.
Paul says that for Christ’s sake he has suffered the loss of all things, in order that he may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but one that comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God based on faith.
God has come near in Jesus Christ and in the Holy Spirit, repent and believe it. That’s the gospel. That’s it. Believing in this gospel saves our souls.
The kingdom is no longer a place, a geography, but a person, a body, in whom there are infinite homes. Live in this kingdom near God, and he will put upon you a fear of him that keeps you from sin.
Amen.
