Sermon

The Vineyard of God

by The Rev. Bryan England, Deacon

Don’t you just love the entire concept of moving? The last time Linda and I had to move was nine years ago, the federal government took care of virtually everything, and it was still a major pain in the neck. This time, the federal government has gotten stingy. Sure, they probably moved Barack and Michelle from Chicago, and they’re bringing back people from overseas assignments, but most of the rest of us are left to do it on our own.

Our current move is further complicated by the reality that we are coming back to Kansas City in a few years. My family is in Lawrence and Lee’s Summit, and we are closer to Linda’s family in Davenport, so we’re not going to sell our home, although I have given casual thought to burning it. Therefore we are faced with the conundrum of what to take with us and what to leave behind. It will take the foresight of a prophet to ensure that we are not suddenly 1,000 miles from something we desperately need for our continued survival.

But what really drove the pain of moving home for me yesterday was the reality of house plants. Parts of our house are reminiscent of a tropical jungle, full of plants that I have cultivated over the last nine years. Our master bathroom contains a Boston fern about the size of a Volkswagen, the bedroom has a huge Peace Lily, and my den has an ivy that could encircle the room if I let it. The list goes on, and on.

Yesterday I had to face the reality that these plants could not make the trip to Washington with us, that we could take only a precious few, and I began to cull them. Guess which ones are currently residing in the dumpster at the end of our lane?

Over the years I have lavished attention on our house plants, ensuring they were well- but not over-watered, fed properly, repotted when necessary. Some of them thrived, as I described, but others didn’t. They failed to flower, or just grew weed-like. Yet I still nurtured them over the years, actually mourning them if one of them died.

But when push came to shove, when I had to decide which would be the first to be cast away and which would live another week in case someone wanted them, the ones that didn’t respond to my care were the ones that ended up in the dumpster yesterday.

It was while doing this mundane task that today’s lesson from Isaiah became relevant to me, and I knew what message I wanted to leave with you today.

The prophet starts, “Let me sing for my beloved my love-song concerning his vineyard,” and then picks up on the metaphor of Israel as a vineyard which God has planted and cultivated on a fertile hill. After all his work, the vintner expected the vineyard to yield grapes, but it yielded wild grapes instead. Therefore, the vintner tore down the vineyard’s hedge and wall, and let the land be overgrown with briars and thorns.

Just to make sure the people completely understand his metaphor, the prophet makes it clear, “For the vineyard of the LORD of hosts is the house of Israel, and the people of Judah are his pleasant planting.” And Isaiah makes it abundantly clear what the “wild grapes” were, “he expected justice, but saw bloodshed, righteousness, but heard a cry!”

Justice and righteousness, two of the prophet Micah’s simple formula to, “do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God,” yet the people of Israel failed, and ended up a captive nation.

The metaphor of a vineyard applies to the Church, and specifically Grace and Holy Trinity, as well. God has planted this cathedral in this place, has cultivated it for over a century, and expects it to bear good fruit, but what fruit does God expect us to bear?

Does God want us to grow in numbers? Possibly, but growth in itself, for itself, is not necessarily good fruit. If your desire for growth stems from a desire to have a bigger church budget, with a lesser financial burden on yourself, it kind of seems like wild grapes to me. I think a smaller church, concentrating on spreading the kingdom of God and less on preserving its existence is more pleasing to the vintner than a mega-church rapt with contemplating its navel.

The Church, this church, needs to be about spreading the Gospel of Jesus Christ to all it encounters, despite their wealth, their politics, their religion, or their lifestyle. The Church needs to be a beacon of hope in a world full of hopelessness, as Jesus was a beacon to those in search of a Messiah. We need to be less focused on surviving as an organization and more focused on being the body of Christ in Kansas City. This cathedral needs to be the vineyard of God in the heart of the city.

There is one more cautionary note that I discovered in Isaiah’s writing yesterday morning. The prophet starts, “My beloved had a vineyard on a very fertile hill,” but just a few verses later he writes, “judge between me and my vineyard.” Clearly, the prophet is speaking for God, here, and not for himself, but it caused me to think of a danger – the danger of thinking the vineyard is ours. When the vineyard becomes ours, it ceases to be God’s. We become proprietary about the vineyard, focusing on the way things are, and not about the way things could be. We resent it when decisions are made by others, and we actually resent others working in the vineyard. Even worse, when we think we are the vintner, we think we have the right to judge which grapes are worthy, and which grapes are not. Please don’t forget that we are not the vintners in this vineyard; we are not even the vines; we are the grapes.

Bear with me while I get maudlin for a few minutes. You have allowed Linda and I to share ministry with you in this place for eight years, and I have been on staff for over seven. You have cared for both of us in illness, and have allowed us to care for you. Some of you have allowed me to raise your righteous indignation with my messages from the pulpit and still counted me as a friend, others, not so much. Hopefully, though, I have helped you to take a new look at the Gospel.

But whoever you are, I need to tell you honestly that these years have been the most rewarding years of my ministry. In large part this has been due to the colleagues who sit behind me now, and those who have gone to other things, or greater glory. They have endured the liturgical application of plucked chickens and flashing rubber ducks with stiff upper lips, and they have created an atmosphere where this was not only allowed, but relished. They have not forgotten that the basis of our mutual ministry is joy: joy in the knowledge that we are children of God, and that nothing can come between us and the love of God through Jesus Christ our Lord. I thank them for creating that atmosphere, and for allowing Linda and me to share in your ministry is this vineyard of the Lord. Please make sure that whomever you call to serve God and you in this place have that joy at the center of their ministries.

The fundamental difference between priests and deacons is that deacons do not absolve, bless, or consecrate. I have always maintained that deacons actually can, but that we just refuse to. One of the things deacons do, however, and are actually required to do by our ordination vows is read the Scriptures. Therefore, in parting, I would like to leave you with a passage from the Book of Numbers,
“The LORD bless you and keep you; the LORD make his face to shine upon you, and be gracious to you; the LORD lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace.”

One last thing, does anyone want a Boston fern about the size of a Volkswagen?

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