Twenty-Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time A
What were you doing at 4:30am this morning? (When I asked a couple of guys this
question at the 8:00am, one said he was doing dishes and the other said he was watching
sports on TV. I should have known
I’d be talking with early risers at the early Mass!) Most reasonable folks were sleeping…which is what I wanted
to be doing. But at 4:25am, the
emergency pager went off. Groggy
and bleary-eyed, I called the hospital to find out what was going on. The nurse told me there was an elderly
woman in the ER—let’s call her “Gertrude”—who wanted to see a priest. I asked if it was an emergency. She answered, “No, not really. If you waited and came at, like,
8:00am, or even later, I’m sure it would be OK.” Naturally, I then asked why she’d gotten me out of bed. “I didn’t get you out of bed!” she
replied. I’m pretty sure she was
trying to be funny…but I’m not very good at getting jokes at 4:30am. So I said, “Just tell Gertrude I’ll be
there in a little while.”
As I was making my bed, I was spittin’-and-sputterin’. And while I brushed my teeth, I
grumbled. And as I was getting
into the shower, I was about to say, “Gotta look my best for Gertrude!” when I
caught myself and said instead, “Gotta look my best for Jesus!” since he’s the
one who had really called me out at such an early hour.
On my way to the ER, I got thinking about all of this in
light of today’s gospel reading.
This is the third Sunday in a row that Jesus takes us into the
vineyard. The parable we’ve just
heard isn’t exactly a warm and fuzzy one.
In fact, it’s got some rather sharp edges. The landowner sends one messenger after another into his
vineyard…and the first they beat, another they killed, and a third they
stoned. Understandably, we hear of
these messengers and think of the prophets, who were given such poor receptions
by God’s people. But wasn’t
Gertrude also a messenger of the Lord? Had not the beloved Son called for me in the guise of
a frightened old lady in a hospital bed?
How many other times had I failed to recognize him, or treated him
poorly, because I was too focused on my own plans, on my own needs, on my own
desires?
Jesus is clearly addressing his pointed parable to those who
have been appointed to tend the vineyard: to the chief priests and elders; to
the religious leaders of the day.
Deacon Nick and Deacon Brent—that now includes the two of you. As Bishop LaValley reminded you in his
homily at your ordination yesterday, the gift you have received isn’t for
yourself, but for the Church.
Your ordination isn’t about gaining the power and authority to get your
own way, but to be of service in the name and in the likeness of Christ.
But that message isn’t only for the clergy. Jesus is clearly basing his parable on
one told by Isaiah nearly 500 years before. And in Isaiah’s song of the vineyard, it’s the vines that
have yielded, not the sweet fruit that was desired, but wild, sour grapes. God has done so much to nurture and
cultivate us! He’s given us the
Scriptures and the Sacraments and the saints. He’s given us the communion and community of the
Church. He has every right to
expect a good and bountiful harvest from us! Can we honestly say that we’re we giving him his due?
In the aftermath of terrible shootings in Las Vegas, many
people have been asking this week, “How could something like that happen? Why would anybody do it?” The answer comes from the same dark
place in the human heart that could cause one to get up on the wrong side of
the bed, or to mistreat or disparage or reject another person. St. Paul’s message this morning is so
timely. He tells us to have no
anxiety at all, to be at peace.
And in a world marred by our sinfulness, he tells us how to find that
peace—how to live by God’s grace: “Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever
is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there
is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these
things. Keep on doing what you
have learned and received and heard and seen in me. Then the God of peace will be with you.”
My friends, let us live each day—no matter the hour—with our
eyes fully open, that we might recognize Jesus whenever he comes, no matter his
current disguise. Let us always bring
forth—through acts of love and mercy, thought our care and compassion for one
another—the rich, sweet fruit of the kingdom that God’s so desires from us.
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