Old Testament Lesson: Isaiah 5:1-7

Rev. Stephen H. Wilkins

Georgetown Presbyterian Church

October 2, 2005

I don’t know about you, but it seems like every time a "new" movie comes out, it turns out to be a remake of some film from long ago. Some of the classics and not-so-classics have returned to the big screen, updated with modern story lines and contemporary movie stars. Films from my parents’ generation, like Sabrina, An Affair to Remember, and others, have been reworked to fit into the 1990s and the new century.

I have become even more aware in the past year of this Hollywood recycling trend, as movies that were hits when I was growing up have returned in updated form. It seems like there is less and less time between the original and the remake nowadays. Dawn of the Dead, Walking Tall, The Longest Yard were big movies when I was a teenager, and they hit the theaters in remade form not long ago.

I think this trend is perhaps most noticeable in the wave of remake of popular children’s movies. Films like Parent Trap, Dr. Doolittle, Herbie the Love Bug, That Darn Cat, the Nutty Professor, the Bad News Bears have all been reworked into contemporary settings. Unfortunately, the remakes are seldom improvements on the originals. In the case of children’s films, I find that the remakes frequently insert material that is inappropriate to the intended audience.

Yogi Bera would say it’s like déjà vu all over again! It bothers me a bit to see all the remakes, because it tells me that the new generation of movie makers really has no creativity.

The parable that Jesus tells in this morning’s text is nearly a remake of the story of the vineyard from Isaiah. It’s not out of a lack of creativity that Jesus tells it, though; it’s out of the stubbornness of the religious leadership of Jesus’ day. There are strong parallels between the parable that Jesus told and the parable of the vineyard that is found in the fifth chapter of Isaiah. Like Isaiah, Jesus told a parable about a vineyard, with a wall around it, and a winepress and a watchtower. Because Jesus’ audience was well-versed in the scripture that we call the Old Testament, they would’ve immediately thought of the story from Isaiah 5, which is a parable of judgment upon Israel for failing in her responsibility to bear the fruit of righteousness and justice.

Centuries after Isaiah, Jesus borrows the scene of Isaiah’s parable, in order to tell a slightly different parable that makes essentially the same point: Those who tend to the vineyard have failed to meet the expectations of the owner of the vineyard. The people of God have failed to bear the fruit they have been called to bear.

A word of caution here: It’s easy for us to fall prey to the temptation to believe that the parable is simply a condemnation of the leadership of Israel for rejecting Jesus as the Messiah. It’s easy to take this text and turn it into anti-Semitic propaganda.

The parable simply cannot be accurately interpreted in that way.

The fact of the matter is, Jesus is telling the parable to people to whom the kingdom had been entrusted. Today, that means us. Today, the parable speaks to the Church. And so as we approach this parable we need to recognize that our interest is not so much in the failures of Israel, as our interest ought to be in Jesus’ word as it applies to the Church today.

I want to highlight three things that the parable tells us today.

First, the parable tells us about God. It is clear in the parable that the owner of the vineyard is God. It is a declaration that God is sovereign over the whole world, an unmistakable "Amen" to the psalmist’s words that "The earth is the Lord’s, and all that is in it…" It is a reminder that this world in which we dwell is not our world, but God’s world.

I was talking to a group of people the other night who will be helping with our stewardship campaign this year, and one of the things we talked about was that any theological discussion of stewardship must start with the premise that everything in this world is God’s, and we are charged with being faithful stewards of what God has given to us. Scripture is filled with that teaching. Nowhere does Scripture indicate that God has inadequate resources and has to turn to us to fill his needs—it’s always the other way around. Nowhere does it say that we add one iota to what is already God’s. God isn’t a limited partner; he’s the outright owner.

The parable also reminds us something of the character of God, namely, that God is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. Most landlords would’ve thrown rebellious tenants out at the first sign of rebellion; God, though, repeatedly sends his messengers to appeal to the workers to give God what God is due. The repeated sending of his servants is an important reminder that our God is a God of second chances. God deals with us, not according to what we deserve, but according to the love and mercy that issue from his heart.

And so in the parable we are told something of who God is; God is sovereign over this world, and his sovereignty is marked not by heavy-handed rule, but by love and patience and mercy.

The second thing I want to highlight from the parable is that it reminds us of our own tendency to rebel against the love and patience and the purposes of God. If it is clear in the parable that God is the Owner, it is also clear that the people of God are the tenants. Only, we don’t want to be tenants, do we? It’s been that way from the very beginning. Adam wasn’t content with simply dwelling in the garden—he wanted more, he wanted to be like God. How quickly the people of Israel forgot that it was God who had brought them into the promised land—how quickly they abandoned the ways of God and chose instead to forge their own way. And how they resisted when God sent prophets to set the people straight and call them to return to God!

We’re tenants, but we don’t want to be. It’s our tendency to want to take matters into our own hands. We want to be in control of our own destiny. We resent it when others impose their will upon us. It’s a me-first world that we live in, and so it’s not surprising to know that the tenants are wont to rebel against the landlord. And so the parable reminds us that where we owe God a debt of gratitude and faith and obedience for placing us in the vineyard of this world, our tendency instead is to rebel against the love and patience of God, to reject God’s blessings and to resist his advances of love toward us.

We’re tenants, but we don’t want to be; we think we’d rather be the owner. It seems that even today we still find the whisper of the serpent attractive: "Eat the fruit, and you will be just like God." Things really haven’t changed very much, have they?

The third point of the parable that I want to highlight is that we’re really more than tenants in the vineyard of the Lord: we’re stewards. The parable is a call to bear fruit for the kingdom of God. It’s a call to be more than caretakers of the vineyard: it’s a call to participate in the mission that God gave to Abraham and Sarah, to be the conveyor of God’s blessing to all the people on earth. To be a steward of the world in which God has placed us means to look for ways to multiply the harvest of the vineyard, not just for our own enjoyment, but to serve the world around us. To be a steward means we are managers of the life that God has entrusted unto us. It means that we are to live our lives so that our time, our talents and skills, our relationships, our priorities, our possessions all reflect the character of God, who is the Owner. To be a steward means that we live our lives in such a way that everything about us manifests the love and grace of the living God who has put us on this earth. Citizenship in the kingdom of heaven is not a privilege, it’s a responsibility. The vineyard isn’t put there for our benefit; we’re put in the vineyard so that we can reap a harvest for God and for others in God’s name.

In just a few moments we will come to the Lord’s Table. That, too, is the playing out of a parable of sorts. The invitation of Christ to join him at the table is a reminder of the long-suffering love of God. The body and the blood are reminders, not only of our rebellion against God, but of God’s infinite patience toward us as he repeatedly calls us to return to him. The breaking of the bread and the sharing of the cup remind us that God’s love toward us is so great that he sent Christ to die in our place and on our behalf, so that we might have life and have it abundantly. And we are reminded that it is not our rebellion that has defeated God, but the other way around, for we know through the resurrection of Jesus Christ that God’s love has conquered our sin and rebellion.

And as you come to the table, know this: the blessing of God’s incredible love, and the salvation that is given to each of us as a result of the sacrifice of Jesus Christ—these are not things that you are to keep to yourself. The gospel is given to us so that we may share it with a world that desperately needs to know this blessing of love and salvation. For you see, you and I are stewards, not only of our possessions, not only of our time, not only of our relationships, but also of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

Recognize your place in the vineyard. Receive the blessings of God. But don’t let them stop with you. Be faithful stewards, one and all, that you might bear fruit for the kingdom. Amen.