Lectionary readings; Epistle reading
In the name of God ☩ Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
I prefer Dijon over yellow mustard. I usually choose the scenic route over the interstate. And I think the Rite I funeral liturgy is far superior to Rite II. On these topics, I am biased. We misunderstand bias though to be a bad thing.
When we lived in North Carolina, along with another pastor, I created an organization that hosted racial equity workshops that were attended by business and non-profit leaders, school administrators and teachers, city employees, police officers, and interested community members. Over a period of 5 years, I attended about 15 of these two–day workshops and can probably lead a lot of the modules just from memory. One of things the facilitators often talked about was the importance of definitions—it’s hard to have a conversation about a topic like race without a shared vocabulary. And one of those important words is “bias.”
There was a popular lawn game in 1500s called “bowls,” sort of an early form of bowling. You’d roll a ball towards a target, and a part of the strategy is that the balls were weighted so that one side was heavier than the other, meaning they would curve in a certain direction. This was referred to as the “bias” of the ball. Another way of saying this is that a bias is a preference. And we all have preferences. We are all biased. Problems emerge when a bias is turned into preferential treatment or prejudicial exclusion. But pretending that we don’t have bias is dangerous because it means that we take our position for granted and assume it’s the standard.
I mention all of this because when it comes to reading Scripture, I have a bias towards Grace and when it comes to preaching, I am biased towards sermons that give relief as opposed to laying down the law. In the first reading, we heard the Ten Commandment delivered. The human problem isn’t that we don’t know what we’re supposed to do, or not do, the problem is that we can’t follow the law. As Saint Paul writes in one of his letters, “I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do.” This is the human predicament. We know what we’re supposed to do, which why I’m biased against sermons that tell people what to do. We already know. Our struggle is that we are too tired, too anxious, too fearful to do it. I’ve never heard someone respond to the Ten Commandments by saying “Why didn’t someone tell me sooner that idolatry, theft, murder, and adultery are wrong?”
No, for me, the sermon ought to be closer to Jesus when he says, “Come to me, all you who are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” Not, “Here’s what you need to do. But, Jesus can help with that.” Which means that when we read a parable such as the one we heard about the wicked tenants, I’m going to read it as a parable not of judgment and condemnation, but of Grace.
Now, I realize that we’re biased towards Grace here, after all, it’s in our name. And who doesn’t like the concept of Grace? Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound! We like the idea that love and acceptance are unconditioned and unconditional. But the reality is that we spend most of our lives resisting Grace. “What do you mean by saying that we don’t have to do anything?” “What, so we’re just supposed to forgive people and give them a second chance when they haven’t showed any contrition?” “So are there no standards in Christianity?” These are just some of the responses we have to the message of Grace.
You see, we live in a world of entitlement. We assume our success is the result of our hard work. Those other people, they just got lucky or cheated. But we deserve the good things we have, and when those things are threatened, well, sound the battle cry. Nearly constantly, we’re keeping score, measuring ourselves against others, tracking debits and credits in the social hierarchy. Most of the time, we live with a zero–sum mentality, where if someone else is winning, that must mean that we are losing.
Which is why when we hear a parable like this one, we immediately go to judgment and legalism. The safe and standard reading of this parable is that we’re supposed to use the gifts that God has given us properly. If we don’t, God will smite us and find someone else to do the job. That’s the world we live in and that reading seems obvious.
But the parables are what got Jesus killed by the powers–that–be. There’s nothing scandalous about meritocracy. And even if the chief priests and Pharisees realized that Jesus was telling these parables against them, they had dealt with naysayers before. They weren’t so sensitive as to have Jesus put to death over some criticism. That paints them with an overly harsh and anti-Semitic brushstroke. No, what got Jesus into trouble was the scandalous and world–changing message of Grace. Because Grace, when truly understood and applied, upends the status game. And that’s something we will break the sixth commandment over.
Paul Tillich was one of the great theologians of the 20th–century and he wrote, “You are accepted by that which is greater than you… Do not seek for anything; do not perform anything; do not intend anything. Simply accept the fact that you are accepted! If that happens to us, we experience it as grace. After such an experience we may not be better than before, and we may not believe more than before. But everything is transformed… And nothing is demanded of this experience but acceptance.”
This is the challenge of faith: to accept our acceptance. To receive our belonging. To enjoy our forgiveness. There’s no earning, posturing, or guarding to do. It’s all Grace. It’s all a gift. But if we insist on living in a meritocracy and keeping score, well, Jesus will seem like a fool, we’ll turn Christianity into a burden to place on others instead of a relief, we’ll use faith a tool for political power, and we’ll read parables such as this one as support for doing just that.
What if this parable is heard with the assumption that we are accepted, that we belong, and that our worthiness will not be questioned? Again, I’ll own by bias. I’m reading through the lens of Grace, but I don’t think I’m seeing something that’s not already in the parable. But if we’re wearing the lenses of judgment and obligation, we’ll overlook the Grace.
The turn towards Grace is clear in how Jesus responds to their response. The question is, “Now when the owner of the vineyard comes, what will he do to those tenants?” They answer not through the lens of Grace, but vengeance and merit—“He will put those wretches to a miserable death.” Notice what Jesus does not say. He does not say “Exactly. This is how the Kingdom works, we slaughter all those who oppose us and do not do what we expect out of them.” No, not at all.
This is the same Jesus who tells us to go the extra mile, to love our enemies, to turn the other cheek. They respond with a summary of how the world functions, but Jesus does not say “Precisely. Good answer.” He says, “The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.” In other words, “Where in the Law and the Prophets do you find the mandate to act in such a way? Have you not heard the commandment: You shall not murder.”
And what is the cornerstone of faith? It’s what Saint Peter is preaching about in Acts—"There is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name given among mortals by which we must be saved.” Net worth will not save us. Awards, prestige, power, and good looks will not save us. There is only one thing that can save us from ourselves and the tyranny of merit, the gracious name of Jesus Christ who we crucified and God raised up. This love is the stone that we reject, but God has placed it at the very pinnacle of the Kingdom
“But Robert,” you might say, “Jesus then says ‘Therefore I tell you, the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that produces fruits of the kingdom.’ You’re taking this Grace thing too far!” I hear you, I do. But let’s stick with the parable a bit more.
These wicked tenants kill the son because he is the heir and they want the inheritance. Tyler and I are getting ready up update our will—since we’ve moved to Colorado, we want to make sure that everything is in order given that we live in a different state. And I’m pretty sure when we sit down with the attorney that he’s not going to say, “Well, you have to realize that if someone kills your children, they’ll get to take your house and retirement accounts.” That’s absurd. That’s not how it works today and it’s not how it worked in Jesus’ day either. An inheritance, by definition, cannot be earned, only given. These tenants try to take something that can never be taken, but only received. This is why the practice of receiving Communion is so important. It’s why when we come forward, we come with empty hands and we hold out our empty palms to receive. We don’t grab the wafer, we receive it. It’s all Grace.
This landowner isn’t interested in property or income, if that was the case, he would have sent in the heavy after the first messenger was killed. No, the landowner is more like a father who desires a relationship than an investor looking for payment. He says, “They will respect my son.” Respect is a relational word, not a transactional one. If it was just about getting his share of the produce, the parable would say, “They will give my son what is owed.” But it’s not about the transaction, it’s about Grace.
God is not after our good deeds or pure thoughts. No, God is interested in us. Full stop. It is no accident that we are told that Creation began in a garden and that it will culminate in one. This parable, likewise, happens in a vineyard, which was a symbol for Israel. A garden exists to produce fruit. Fruits come not because the plant tries really hard, but fruit comes naturally when the plant is rooted in the soil of the garden. Fruitfulness, when we are connected to God, is natural and effortless, or we might even say “graceful.”
Trees, to the best of my knowledge, don’t compete over who can produce the most apples. The simply participate in the life of the garden and do what is natural. For us, the fruit isn’t grapes but loving God and loving neighbor. Those are the fruits, not the obligations of faith. The beautiful and amazing thing about Grace is that we get to participate in it and enjoy the fruitful abundance of God’s love.
Last Sunday, I mentioned the importance of Monday. Yes, coming together on Sunday to grow in wisdom and fellowship enables us to go into the world to love and serve the Lord, but Sunday for its own sake is empty. Sunday gives us the roots, but Monday is when the fruit shows up.
In our Post–Communion prayer, we pray “And now, Father, send us out to do the work you have given us to do.” The work that we do is, itself, a gift; it is Grace. It’s not something that God will come to collect on and punish us if we don’t meet the standard. No, the work is how we participate in the Kingdom, it is how we produce the fruit that we are made to bear. Some of you are teachers, or students, or therapists, or lawyers, or nurses, or designers, or caregivers. Whatever God has called you to on Monday, it is not about competing, deserving, or earning, but enjoying and participating in the produce of God’s vineyard. We need not be fearful servants, for we are chosen and beloved heirs.
As we’re entering into our Annual Giving campaign for 2027, it’s the same truth. You are a valued member of this congregation not because of how much you give; your value and belonging are not in question. Rather, giving is an invitation to participate in what God is up to in this part of the vineyard. It is an invitation to bear fruit and invest in what God is bringing to fruition among us. And how much sweeter the harvest will be as we joyfully grow together into our future.
Undeniably, my bias is towards Grace, towards the radical call of Jesus to accept our acceptance, allowing that Grace to define and transform us. And just as in this parable messengers were sent to the tenants, God continues to send us messengers of Grace who proclaim the message that you can rest, because there is nothing to earn, nothing to prove, nothing to compete over. Just don’t shoot the messenger.
