Trinity 18
The Sermon for the 10.00 Eucharist at St Bene’t’s
on 8th October 2023, 18th Sunday after Trinity
The Reverend Canon Richard Ames-Lewis
Katharine and I have recently been on holiday in deepest East Sussex, a beautiful part of the country. You may know that the swathe of countryside stretching from the North Downs of West Kent through the South Downs of Sussex and west to the Surrey Hills is now known as England’s Vineyard, producing delicious sparkling wine. The terroir of the downland chalk compares favourably, I am told, with the Champagne region of France. The growth in the English wine growing industry in the last decade is one of the consequences of climate change. As it happens, about five years ago a vineyard was planted in the field next to where we were staying, and it is now well established. Walking between the rows we could see the sturdy vines growing up their wire supports, observe their neat pruning and in the early September sunshine see the branches burdened with huge bunches of grapes almost ready for the harvest.
This experience enlivened my appreciation of today’s readings, where you will not have failed to notice the vineyard theme. A vineyard is a valuable commodity. Vines need careful looking-after, for within the vine lies the miracle of water being turned into wine. The wine which they produce gladdens our hearts and of course has deep theological resonance. Jesus took a cup of wine at the Last Supper, saying, “This is the new covenant in my blood.” And famously described himself as “I am the true vine.” We’ll come back to that later.
So we heard the lyrical song of Isaiah describing my beloved’s vineyard, planted with choice vines, protected with a watch tower and provided with a wine-vat. We heard the beloved’s sorrow at the harvest of wild grapes and the judgement he intends to wreak. The vineyard will be destroyed and trampled down. For the vineyard of the Lord of hosts is a metaphor of the house of Israel. The chosen people of God, whom he brought out of Egypt, established with his Covenant and planted in the promised land, have been fruitless. “He expected justice, but saw bloodshed; righteousness, but heard a cry!”
[The beautiful Psalm 80, which we sang, uses the same metaphor, but concludes with a plea “Turn now, O God of Hosts, look down from heaven; behold and tend this vine; preserve what your right hand has planted.”]
And then today’s Gospel reading develops the vineyard metaphor further, and, as we shall see, in a rather disturbing way. Today’s Parable of the Tenants in the Vineyard is the third in a series of vineyard parables from St Matthew’s gospel all addressed to the chief priests and elders of the people, the Jewish authorities. The first was the parable of the labourers in the vineyard, where those who came last to the work where paid the same as those who came first. Then came the story the two sons whose father asked to go and work in the vineyard. One son said “I will not” but changed his mind; the other son said “I will go”, but did not go. The son who changed his mind was commended.
Today’s parable forms the climax of the three and is the most challenging. The metaphor has changed. The vineyard is no longer the House of Israel. The vineyard is the Kingdom of God, and the parable reads as the unfolding of the broken relationship between God and his Chosen People. Here the landowner, God, plants the vineyard and then leases it to tenants, his Chosen People. At harvest time, God sends his slaves – his prophets –to collect the harvest, and the tenants beat them, kill them and stone them. Finally, he sends his son, saying “They will respect my son.” We know who the son is. We know the story: “They seized him, threw him out of the vineyard and killed him.” This short sentence is in miniature the narrative of the passion and death of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.
But the parable does not end there. Jesus enters into a dialogue with the chief priests. “When the owner of the vineyard comes, what will he do to those tenants?” They reply, “He will put those wretches to a miserable death and lease the vineyard to other tenants who will give him the produce at the harvest time.” And Jesus confirms this with these terrible words “Therefore I tell you, the Kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people who will produce the fruits of the kingdom.”
These words are terrible because of their implication. They imply that by virtue of the death of Christ, the Chosen People of God have been superceded by a new community, who, St Matthew suggests, is the Church of the followers of Jesus Christ. At first sight we might want simply to be grateful for this, since this is how we, as gentile Christians, may be afforded salvation in Christ. But sadly it is not so easy. For from this implication has developed a doctrine which goes by the name of supercessionism, which teaches that the Christian Church has indeed superceded Judaism as the People of God, that the New Testament of grace, founded on the life, death and resurrection of Christ, has superceded the Old Testament founded on the Law of Moses. That therefore Christians have assumed priority over Jews in God’s sight. And from this has flowed centuries of Christian anti-Semitism. The 16th century reformer Martin Luther, in developing his teaching on justification by faith, developed a hard doctrine of supercessionism, creating a culture which justified persecution of the Jews and in the end enabled the Holocaust.
But it seems to me that more evil flows from this. That, through its history, the church has come to regard it as legitimate to adopt a kind of Christian supremacy, which we see in the triumphalism of much of church architecture and music, and also in much of the dynamic of the missionary work of the church. I find this hard to say, since I love architecture and music and admire the overseas work of the church, but it speaks of power in an unequal world.
[St Paul struggles with this problem, “Circumcised on the eighth day, a member of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew born of Hebrews…as to righteousness under the Law, blameless. Yet whatever gains I had, these I have come to regard as loss because of Christ…For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things, and I regard them as rubbish, in order that I might gain Christ.” Paul seems to be suggesting that his faith in Christ has indeed taken the place of his Jewish life and practice.]
We have to ask the question, “Has supercession actually happened?” Since the Holocaust, and the foundation of the state of Israel, the church has taken a very much softer line on supercession, giving thanks for our sharing with the Jews, the ancient people of God, in the riches of the Old Testament. But to what extent we as Christians may claim theologically to have displaced the Jews remains an open question. It remains a challenge to us to acknowledge the power imbalance that flows from this.
Jesus said “When I am lifted up, I will draw all people to myself.” Let us return to the Jesus’s self-description in St John’s Gospel, where he shifts the image from vineyard to vine, and calls us to encounter him. “I am the true vine and my father is the vinegrower. …I am the vine and you are the branches. And he calls us to abide in him, to make our home in him: “Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing.” Jesus, our true vine, was a Jew, brought up in accordance with the Law. His first miracle was the turning of water into wine so that the wedding banquet might celebrate. On the cross was released his blood of the new covenant, and he calls us now, today, to his supper of bread and wine as we hope for the banquet of heaven.
