Sermon for SMHP, Year C, Pentecost + 10, Aug. 18, 2019
Isaiah 5:1-7
Let
me sing for my beloved my love-song concerning his vineyard: My beloved had a
vineyard on a very fertile hill. 2He dug it and cleared it of
stones, and planted it with choice vines; he built a watchtower in the midst of
it, and hewed out a wine vat in it; he expected it to yield grapes, but it
yielded wild grapes.
3And
now, inhabitants of Jerusalem and people of Judah, judge between me and my
vineyard. 4What more was there to do for my vineyard that I
have not done in it? When I expected it to yield grapes, why did it yield wild
grapes? 5And now I will tell you what I will do to my vineyard.
I will remove its hedge, and it shall be devoured; I will break down its wall,
and it shall be trampled down. 6I will make it a waste; it
shall not be pruned or hoed, and it shall be overgrown with briers and thorns;
I will also command the clouds that they rain no rain upon it. 7For
the vineyard of the Lord of hosts is the house of Israel, and the
people of Judah are God’s pleasant planting; God expected justice, but saw
bloodshed; righteousness, but heard a cry!
First,
this needs saying: worst love
song ever!
The
Police song “Every Breath You Take” is a close second.
Every breath you take
Every move you make
Every bond you break
Every step you take
I'll be watching you.
Every move you make
Every bond you break
Every step you take
I'll be watching you.
And there we were in the eighties, just singin’ along. “Every smile you fake, every claim you stake,
I’ll be watching you.” A whole
generation of mad stalkers, just singin’ along with Sting.
Terrible, terrible love
song.
But the “Love Song of the
Vineyard?” [hold up Insert]
Worse.
It starts off fine. “Let me
sing for my beloved my love-song concerning his vineyard:
“My beloved had a vineyard on a very
fertile hill. 2He dug it and cleared it of stones, and planted
it with choice vines; he built a watchtower in the midst of it, and hewed out a
wine vat in it; he expected it to yield grapes…
…but it yielded wild grapes.”
Now… “wild grapes” may not sound like
an ominous metaphor. It’s not a “house
built on sand,” just waiting to drift into the sea…or the “abominable stench”
or solemn-but-empty assemblies.
It’s worse. This is that argument that sneaks up on
you. Like when your spouse says, “are that
the shirt you’re planning to wear?”
Seems innocent enough.
It’s not.
The beloved, who is God, built a
vineyard—which is the people of Israel.
I try to be careful with metaphors and analogies and not say “this means
this,” but Isaiah unpacks this one pretty well, especially there at the
end. Plus we know that a well known
trope in Hebrew poetry is for a vineyard to stand in for the beloved.
And we know from our readings in the
prophetic literature over the past few weeks that the metaphor of a marriage is
often used to describe the relationship between God and God’s people. You might recall the passage from Jeremiah 31,
in which the prophet declares in God’s voice that the day is coming when God
will make a new covenant with the people, and it won’t be like that old
covenant, which they broke, “even though I was their husband.”
So God, the bridegroom, builds a
vineyard for God’s beloved—us.
Not an ornamental garden, mind you. This thing has a practical purpose.
A vineyard. Planted with “choice vines.”
Watchtower in its center. Wine vat ready for the harvest from those
“choice vines.”
Robert Mondavi would be proud.
Except that this perfect vineyard, this
beautiful offering from God the lover to God’s beloved--it didn’t produce lovely
Cabernet. It didn’t even produce a serviceable
“red table wine.”
What did it produce?
Wild grapes.
Can you do anything with wild grapes?
Actually, you can. According to the Missouri Department of
Conservation, the wild grapes grow here in our state can be used to make a
pretty decent grape jelly. And the
leaves can be used in salads, or as an addition to homemade pickles.
But Isaiah isn’t interested in horticulture,
or jelly-making.
The beloved built a vineyard. In the ancient world, you didn’t build a nice
vineyard, plant nice vines, put in a nice watchtower and hew a nice wine vat in
order to make jelly.
The point of the metaphor is pretty clear,
right? God wants a relationship with
humanity that ages like a fine wine. Not
something to put between slices of bread with some peanut butter.
But time and time again, we keep
showing God that we are wild and tough to tame.
And it strains our relationship, unsurprisingly. So much of the prophetic literature is simply
an exploration of this strained relationship, of God singing a different love
song, this one by Rick Springfield:
“I’ve done everything for you…you’ve done nothin’ for me.”
So here’s Isaiah, laying it all out
for us. God’s frustration and God’s
thwarted promise…the prophet just hoping that the Beloved—the object of God’s
often unrequited love—we will do something. Repent.
Turn around. Prune back our wild
rebellion and starting growing right.
So what does that look like? What does it mean to bring our whole selves
into relationship with our Creator and love God?
What have we been learning the past
few weeks, as we walk through Amos, Hosea, Isaiah? What does the Lord ask of us?
[Let
this go where it will]
Love is tough. Love songs tend to remind us of that, don’t
they?
It’s really tough when you love
someone who doesn’t love you back. Just
ask Rick Springfield.
God has given us life, and breath, and
endless love and mercy. We have named
today some ways of saying to God, “Hey, we love you back!” Let’s make a pact, just between us,
here. Let’s find a way of showing God
how grateful we are to be loved so well, even though we’re not perfect. Let’s remind God every day that we are God’s.
And let’s sing this love song. #581
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