Matthew 21.23-32 Blackburn Cathedral 15 after Trinity 02
10 11
Baha Mousa and Moussa Koussa, two names heard
frequently in the news in recent weeks may sound like
names from an exotic children’s story book, but we know
that they are not.
When I first glanced again at this morning’s Gospel, the
Parable of the Wicked Husbandmen, I noted elements that
seemed at first like incidentals but are not – ill treatment
and abuse, lack of respect, exclusion and murder –
elements all too contemporary and universal.
A parable told against Israel can become a parable
against us. A landowner prepared his plot, but left others
to collect the produce. Sometimes when I have been way I
have asked people to pick beans or courgettes, but often
they have been too shy. I haven’t tried planting a vineyard
in Blackburn – simply a modest vegetable plot, with no
labourers to work it nor sub-tenants to harvest its produce
Jesus told a story of a landowner who plants a vineyard,
puts a fence around, digs a winepress, constructs a tower
and then leases it out to tenants. Jesus’ more acute
hearers would have picked up certain resonances,
especially the reference to Isaiah’s song of the vineyard. In
that ancient parable it’s God who clears the stones from
the fertile hillside, does the deep digging, plants fine red
grapes, builds a tower and hews out a winepress, but his
loved vineyard yields nothing but wild grapes – a great
disappointment and tragedy – and it is allowed to return to
wilderness.
In Jesus’ story the landowner goes abroad for business,
holiday or sabbatical, but when vintage time draws near he
send his servants to collect the produce, the harvest of his
toil and generosity and the fruit of others’ labours too.
We are among those to whom much has been given – as
stewards of creation, stewards of the gospel and stewards
of the values of God’s kingdom in Christ.
The tenants acted as if the vineyard belonged to them,
and as if they could make up the rules, run their own little
empire and abuse others.
When the landowner’ servants (slaves) came, what did the
tenants do?
They seized the slaves, thrashing one, killing another and
stoning a third. This was outrageous, inhumane action.
Many of Israel’s prophets of Israel suffered abuse when
they called their people and leaders to account for their
stewardship. We know that such actions are not only past
but contemporary resonance.
A month or two ago we heard the conclusions of the Gage
Report that Baha Mousa, interrogated by British troops (of
1st B QLR) in Basra in 2003 had suffered gratuitous
violence whilst in custody and that the Ministry of Defence
was found guilty of corporate failure. Techniques used
had been banned in 1972 and we know that one soldier
was found guilty of war crimes. More recently questions
have been asked again about British involvement in
rendition and about complicity with torture by the previous
Libyan regime.
In the parable, in less testing circumstances there is
abuse, exclusion and murder. We cannot pick and choose
when we treat people with basic humanity. We cannot pick
and choose when we uphold international law. We cannot
pick and choose when we want to live by the standards of
democratic societies. Nor can we cannot pick and choose
when we live in accordance with the values of God’s
kingdom.
So easily there becomes an endless cycle of violence.
Baha Mousa was found to have 93 injuries after less than
two days in custody. How many others suffered wrongfully
at what wasan extremely demanding time for the young
soldiers from our communities who staffed our conflicts?
In the parable after the gratuitous violence of flogging,
stoning and murder, more servants are sent, a larger
number, and they are dealt with in the same way.
Finally the landowner sends his son, thinking, “They will
respect my son.” At times even the word respect is misused, but we are called to respect all people, allowing
basic human rights and dignity, as people made in the
image of God. My Galloway granny had the gift of seeing
something of God in even the most evil of people.
However Jesus may have directed his parable to its first
hearers, we with Matthew are meant to interpret it
christologically, in terms of Christ. We understand the son
as Jesus, in the line of the prophets, and Christ comes to
us in the other, in neighbour and stranger.
Like the tenants, like some leaders of nations and
organizations forget their stewardship and operate as if a
country, company or even church is a private fiefdom. The
tenants want to claim the inheritance, and with twisted
logic, they seize the heir, throw him out of the vineyard
and kill him. Our Christian tradition focuses on one
righteous man, excluded from Israel’s community, crucified
outside a city wall, despised and rejected, yet honoured as
God’s Son and raised from the captivity of death.
The parable is a story to inhabit, meant to provoke its
hearers, a story to interpret. In the parable there is
judgement. The owner will bring the wicked tenants to a
wretched end. They are held responsible for their
stewardship of the vineyard and so are we.
We are held responsible for our care of the earth, our
stewardship of the land, our wealth and inheritance, our
gifts and understanding, and as generous custodians of
the good news of God’s love. We are also responsible for
how we treat others in whatever circumstances, extreme
or commonplace, people who are made in God’s image.
Jesus asked his hearers whether they knew Ps 118 where
a rejected stone becomes the cornerstone of God’s
Temple He warns God’s kingdom being given to people
who will produce the fruit of right actions and attitude. The
authorities took great exception to the preacher, realising
that he spoke about them and they wanted to arrest him.
Neither the names Baha Mousa and Moussa Koussa
come from children’s’ stories nor is the parable simply
about Israel’s failure; it is also about our responsibilities
and our stewardship of the gospel and of the values of the
kingdom of God.