October 4, 2020 | Worship

There is this great movie that came out last year, and because we are the busy people that we are, my husband and I missed it in theaters, even though the trailers looked absolutely hilarious. I mean, it looked Mel Brooks level funny. When it came out for home viewing, we rented it and started the emotional rollercoaster that was hidden beneath the title and trailers for “Jojo Rabbit.” Did you see that one? It’s the story of a german child in Nazi Germany, and it looked pretty outlandish from the trailers, the kid’s imaginary friend is no one but an amiable, goofy Adolf Hitler, and as this young boy goes through all the trials and tribulations of a youth being indoctrinated into Nazi culture, his imaginary friend accompanies him, giving helpful advice along the way, no matter how badly he messes things up. And It’s completely over the top weird and irreverent in it’s comedy for the first quarter of the film, until suddenly, out of nowhere, it becomes the most heart-wrenchingly tragic movie you’ll ever watch. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the underlying plotline of germans hiding Jews in their homes, and the very real fear of being discovered, the layers of lies and mistrust that exist, the unlikely friendship and alliances that take place under extreme fascist rule, and the heartbreaking scenes where beloved characters are killed by a government they could not openly oppose—well, it’s safe to say that once the film was over, Chris and I were emotionally emptied out. I think I cried off and on for a week thinking about it. And this, from a movie I thought would just be a bizarre riff on nazi Germany and a bunch of truth-telling through jokes about the dangers of fascism. I tried to keep all the major spoilers out in case you plan on watching this movie, but you get the gist. It was a bait and switch.

I give this review of Jojo Rabbit, not just to fill space, but because that’s kind of what this morning’s reading from Isaiah does. Did you catch that? It starts out like a love song. We’re lured into this reading by the ways that it perfectly imitates those intimate love poems found within Song of Solomon. Just imagine this in Isaiah’s time. The prophet starts off by saying, “Let me sing for my beloved my love-song concerning his vineyard:” Boom! Hooked! The crowd, recognizing that there’ about to be something good, leans in, prepared for something as steamy as, “Your hair is like a flock of goats/descending from the hills of Gilead./Your teeth are like a flock of sheep just shorn, coming up from the washing.” This is the teaser trailer, this is what draws them in, and then ready to hear all the details of a love song, Isaiah hits them with…wild grapes.

This is not the “Neck is like the tower of David” love song they expected, but, just like with “Jojo Rabbit,” the twist is unexpected but it has something deeper and more important behind it than first expected.

I love this tactic for grabbing attention, imagine if the prophet just led with “Look, you’ve all severely disappointed God, and now you’re gonna have to face the music. DOooooOOOOooooom” Instead, he started with a familiar tone, and even the image of the vineyard is one that was used in Hebrew love poetry to represent one’s beloved. All of this is intentional. God’s beloved is God’s creation. But in this brief passage, God is upset. God is fed up. God planted a vineyard and was hoping for some sweet, juicy grapes. Instead, the grapes were wild. I’ve not tasted wild grapes but I have eaten a gooseberry up at camp tam once or twice. Last week’s reading from Ezekiel brought up sour grapes and teeth being set on edge, and yeah, that’s what I’m assuming is happening here with these wild grapes. God’s people, who God tended and loved and nurtured were turning sour.

Many among us are gardeners. A lot of work goes into a bell pepper or a tomato or a squash. We spend months tending our gardens, watering, pulling weeds, and inspecting our plants for problem spots. When those plants we have put so much care into do not yield, it is disheartening. I’ve heard echoed many times as I’ve been talking with you all about how the two weeks of evacuation wreaked havoc on the previously loved and well tended gardens. It’s hard to come home to wilted plants and dropped blossoms—even though I’ve heard that many of you have been able to bring some of them back! This illustration, though doesn’t evoke quite the same kind of love song for us as it did in Isaiah’s time, is an easy one for us to understand. We may not sing love songs about our partner where we compare their features to a cluster of grapes, but we know well that it takes a lot of love and care to produce a fruitful and abundant garden.

A theme that occurs over and over again in the Hebrew scriptures is one of God’s people disappointing God by acting unjustly. Our reading ends with “…he expected justice, but saw bloodshed; righteousness, but heard a cry!” At the end of this, it is clear to those listening to this song that the people of Judah are the vineyard that has failed to produce a harvest. Isaiah is relaying a sad love song from a faithful, yet jilted lover. Israel is no longer a pleasant planting, but has instead failed to do justly. This isn’t just a few individuals. Our western way of thinking wants us to jump to the “individual failing” way of hearing this text, but I issue a caution against this. The injustices committed here are widespread, systemic. They are caused by those with economic power and privilege taking advantage of the weak. Friends, as a society, a nation, we too are guilty of this. The sins committed here are not unique to this group of people in this time in history. In fact, this reoccurs throughout the bible, and throughout secular history. It is our charge as the Church to remember that God has higher standards of justice than what we can usually get away with in our day to day. When we are tempted to think that OUR way of life, OUR worldview, and yes even our religion, are the best medicine for everyone, worldwide, Isaiah’s warning is directed toward us.

I know, what a plot twist.

With this background, we set foot into the reading from Matthew. As you were listening, you probably noticed that there was a theme between our Isaiah text and our Matthew text. This reading is the next controversial encounter between Jesus and the ruling elites, continuing from where we left off last week. Last week, The high priests and elders questioned Jesus’ authority, and Jesus turned it back on them with a question they were unable to answer without revealing themselves. After this point, Jesus is on the offensive as he moves through his final week. This is the second of three of these clashes with those in positions of power. In this week’s reading, the Pharisees are added to the mix. These are all learned men of elite religious stature. When they hear Jesus talking about a vineyard, they know what he’s talking about. Jesus’ words echo the same way that the beloved’s vineyard was set up. The watch tower, the fence around it, a wine press, each of these elements is a throwback to the prophet Isaiah, words each of these men would know by heart. Instead of this being a love song, however, Jesus sets this up as a parable, God as the Beloved becomes God the Landowner.

As we read this parable, we are left to draw the parallels, just as the chief priests and the Pharisees were. Luckily, we have thousands of years of exegesis and commentary to rely on. We can read this as an allegory rather than a parable because we have the future events to take into consideration that the Pharisees did not. The writer of Matthew also had a good chunk of time after the death of Jesus to tell of this encounter, which also appears in the other two synoptic gospels, Mark and Luke, and to give context and commentary.

The landowner (God) has planted a vineyard, and then leased it to tenants. This is a spin on the wild grapes. The wild grapes were..well…God’s people. So who are the tenants?

When harvest time came, the landowner sent his servants to collect the produce. Who can you imagine the slaves are, those sent by God repeatedly, and who are beaten, discredited, killed? The prophets. The prophets who have been rejected time and time again as God mediated through them for more justice, less :::gestures wildly at everything:::: all of this.

Finally, the landowner sent his own son, thinking surely they’ll behave better with him. Alas, no. The son is killed so that they can reap his inheritance.

If you’re tracking, the son is allegory for Jesus. Just wanted to make clear on that. The Pharisees et al, are not quite making that jump yet. When Jesus asks “What do you think the owner of the vineyard is gonna do with those tenants?” they reply, “Well obviously he’s gonna put them to a miserable death and then lease it out to better tenants. Duh.”

That’s when Jesus does his own version of the Comedy/Tragedy Love Story/Desolation and Destruction plot twist. He points out to the pharisees that they’re the…dun dun dun… tenants. And God is not going to take kindly to their ways of handling things. Someone else will be put in charge of the vineyard.

This doesn’t sit well with them. It’s not supposed to. They were just put into the role of the villain in a story where they had seen themselves as the good guys.

The question I ask this morning is, where do we fall into this story? Where do Christians fit in, who are we? What is the fruit of our actions? Are we producing wild grapes? Are we killing the servants who come to collect what we’ve harvested, keeping it for ourselves? My knee-jerk is to scream “No! We are clearly the prophets, the servants of God!” but my gut also looks at our church history, seeing the imperialism that has happened in the form of genocide and cultural erasure   disguised as missionary work, thinking about how many of my close friends and loved ones want nothing to do with religion because they have been so scarred by a weaponized view of sin. This parable is convicting, it is convicting of the ruling class in Isaiah’s time, in Jesus’ time, and we should assume that it is also important for us in our time.

Today’s readings are harsh, but they’re true. They echo a truth of a God that loves us so much, who is forgiving and full of grace, but who has never once backed down on God’s stance on justice. We are to interpret this as God’s continual push for us to seek justice when we see that there are imbalances of power, or that some communities flourish while other struggle. The plot twist within us, our internal struggle is between how intoxicating wealth and power can be and how God desires us to interact with, lift up, and stand in solidarity with all of God’s beloved creation. And that is the real challenge. May our understanding of the difficult messages bear good fruit instead of wild grapes, in the name of Jesus we pray. Amen.