1
Twenty-seventh Sunday In Ordinary Time Year A
St. Ignatius of Loyola Church, Chestnut Hill MA
Joseph M. O’Keefe, S.J.
What were they so afraid of? Why were they so closed-minded? Why
couldn't they see? How could they have become so desensitized to the
promptings of God's spirit?
These are the questions we ask when we hear today's readings. The first
reading, which is called Isaiah's song for the vineyard, describes God's
care for, and expectations of, the chosen people. Sadly, because of their
errant behavior as neglectful tenant farmers, God lamented, "I expected
my vineyard to yield good grapes. Why did it yield sour ones instead?"
The gospel picks up the same theme -- the infidelity of those whom God
had chosen to care for His vineyard. This parable of the wicked tenants
is an allegory told by Jesus during Passover week in the temple
precincts of Jerusalem, following up on the parable of the two sons that
we heard last week. Jesus told these parables in response to doubts put
forward by the religious authorities of the time about His authority to
teach in the temple. And, of course, we know what happened to Jesus at
the end of that Passover week. Jesus faced his ignominious death and
then his triumph over the forces of death – “the stone that the builders
rejected became the cornerstone.” In Isaiah and in Matthew 21 we find
a theological summary of the entire history of the ingratitude, infidelity,
and hardheartedness of God's chosen people.
There is another parable, I think, that provides insight into what the
scriptures teach today. This one is not found in scripture but in
Theodore Dostoyevsky's novel The Brothers Karamzov. I’m sure that it
is familiar to many of you. In this fictional parable, Christ came back to
earth at the time of the Spanish Inquisition. He performed a number of
miracles, which attracted much attention, and large crowds of people
were mesmerized by his words. He was arrested by the Inquisition, and
he was sentenced to be burned to death in an auto-da-fe. The night
before his planned execution, the grand inquisitor came to visit him in
his cell and said these haunting words, “Why hast thou come to hinder
us?" Like the scribes and the Pharisees, the grand inquisitor was unable
2
to embrace the renewing presence of God, and like the scribes and the
Pharisees, he and his contemporaries had become neglectful and selfrighteous tenants of the vineyard. The inquisitor released Christ but
told him never to return. Christ disappeared into the dark alleys of the
city. But before that happened, Christ, who had listened in silence to the
barrage of the inquisitor, quietly kissed the inquisitor on his “bloodless
aged lips.” Ivan, the teller of the parable, pondered how that kiss
affected the inquisitor and said, “the kiss glowed in his heart, but the old
man adhered to his ideas.”
When we look back at the leaders of God's chosen people, those whom
Yahweh had put in charge of his vineyard, we ask ourselves: What were
they so afraid of? Why were they so closed-minded? Why couldn't they
see? How could they have become so desensitized to the promptings of
God's spirit? Sadly we know that parables such as the one we heard in
the gospel have been the basis for hatred toward our Jewish brothers
and sisters. And when we ponder the fictional Grand Inquisitor, do we
think that the arrogant and self-righteous church of the Spanish
Inquisitor has been relegated to history. We miss the point of today’s
readings if we do not apply those same questions to ourselves today:
What are we so afraid of? Why are we so closed-minded? Why can’t we
see? How could we have become so desensitized to the promptings of
God's spirit? Are we, like the grand inquisitor, so adhered to our ideas
that we impede the love of God, the kiss of Christ, from glowing in our
hearts? How well have you and I tended the vineyard that God has
entrusted to us?
The Vineyard is frequently a metaphor for the church and we, especially
our leaders, are the tenants who are responsible for it. As we tend the
vineyard we are, on the one hand we treasure the continuity of our
tradition, which is based on scripture and centuries of practice. But on
the other hand, how sad it would be, how tragic indeed, if we allowed
our love of tradition to make us as blind as the scribes, the Pharisees,
and the grand inquisitor.
Today marks the beginning of the extraordinary Synod on the Family,
which will take place in Rome, ending on 19 October. As you probably
know, the synod will address many thorny issues that challenge
traditional practices: the denial of access to communion to Catholics
3
who divorce and remarry; the alienation of Catholics who struggle with
the number of children they can raise; the shunning of Catholics whose
families are non-traditional. And there are other issues: How do we
treat migrant families, who mirror the challenges faced by the Holy
Family itself? How do we encourage among couples a love that enables
them to make a life-long commitment? How do we support families that
are struggling to merely stay afloat amid the growing gap between rich
and poor? How do we, on the one hand, maintain a tradition that we
cherish while at the same time being open to the promptings of God’s
spirit that is revealed in the life experiences of people of good faith? We
need to know and understand with sophistication from whence the
Catholic tradition has evolved, and we also need to heed the wisdom
that comes from women and men in the pews. We need to enter into
wise discernment and respectful deliberation. Join me in praying that
this Synod will be for all people a source of new life and new hope;
respectful of a venerable tradition and, at the same time, open to change
in response to the promptings of the Spirit. Join me in a prayer
published by the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops on the
first day of this important gathering:
O God, you never forsake the work of your hands, hear our prayer;
send the Spirit of your Son to enlighten the Church as the synodal
journey begins, so that contemplating the splendor of true love
which shines forth in the Holy Family of Nazareth, she might learn
the freedom and obedience to respond with boldness and mercy
to the challenges of today’s world, through Christ Our Lord. Amen.