Leviticus 23:39-43; Matthew 21:33-46
When I was a boy, I remember the expression “a month of Sundays” to describe an unreasonably long time. I really never expected anything to take that long, yet here we are. This is the first in-person service that we have held since March 15, 2020. That was 28 Sundays ago. It’s actually true that I have not seen some of you in a month of Sundays, and some of you I still haven’t seen – at least not in person! I never thought I would see such a day, and I certainly never thought that I would say that it is good and right for things to be this way. Clearly, none of this has been what any of us want. Clearly, everything we have done as a church has been a faithful attempt to demonstrate our dependence on God’s grace.
So here we are, under tents, in camp chairs, and looking more like a tailgating party than a worship service. Of course, we can argue about the good theology of a tailgate party done well, but that may be another story for another day. Today we are in tents, because of the intensity of the day.
I feel like I’ve been beating that drum for a while now – the intensity of the day – except that I’m not the one beating it as much as calling out to the tune like some bizarro square dance caller. The drum is beating all around us all the time in the news, on social media, in our places of work, and school or the lack thereof and the longing for connection. Sometimes the longing is for very real resources of bread and very real losses of loved ones.
In the midst of that, we hear the voice of another caller. We hear Moses telling the people of Israel not to forget what things are like while they wander because soon, they will have homes of their own. Soon they will have a real reason to celebrate and part of that celebration is to return to the way things are in the wilderness. Can you imagine how that must have sounded to them?
“We’ve been living on nothing but manna and quail – for which we are grateful but after a while, anything can be a bit much. We’ve been fighting off armies and kings, and each one seems worse than the last. [They did not know what a boss level fight was, but they knew it wasn’t getting easier.] Why, O God, would you want us to return to a time when we were a wandering, vulnerable, nomadic tribe?” [We made it to level 10. Why are we going back down to level one?] The answer is, of course, to remember that God is the reason they were no longer a wandering tribe and also to remember what it was like to be totally, absolutely dependent on God’s grace and mercy. I said, ‘remember what it was like,’ but in reality, I think it is more that we are reminded that we are – even here, even now – totally dependent on God’s grace and mercy.
It’s as if God is anticipating the phrase, “God helps those that help themselves” and saying, “Nope. I am, in fact, the source of life and all its fullness. It’s not a power play or a humblebrag. It’s just the way it is. You, in your limitation, actually need me, and I, in my lack of limitation, actually enjoy providing for you. Let’s celebrate that!”
So the commandment to celebrate God’s providence became a tradition, and it has been modified in many ways over the years. Even Jesus, in John’s gospel, participates in the celebration, so while we should be careful about pretending, or adapting, or overtaking something that is expressly a Jewish tradition, we can still acknowledge its significance for us as followers of the way of Jesus.
Likewise, when we hear the parable of the wicked tenants in the vineyard that Jesus directs to the Pharisees, we have to be clear that we aren’t receiving that as a judgment against other people of faith, particularly our Jewish brothers and sisters. Such theology has, directly and indirectly, blessed too much violence in the past, and even in the present, at least we were seeing it before the pandemic.
No, the message Jesus directs to us as we sit outside of our holy spaces is that we are equally at risk of becoming wicked tenants – not because we aren’t providing quality Christian Education or worship services with music to inspire the heavenly hosts, but because the intensity of the day has the potential to move our focus from the abundance of God’s love to the scarcity of our expectations.
In the abundance of God’s love, we recognize that there are creative ways to do the things that are meaningful to us without putting others at risk. In the abundance of God’s love we can look back to other times when we thought we might never make it and yet somehow, we did. In fact, I want you to take a moment and do that – right now. Close your eyes if you must... Take a deep breath... Think of a time that you were uncertain of what might come next... Hold it in your heart as you breathe in and breathe out the holiness of God’s presence in this moment, in this present tense.
One day we will be called to remember this time – this month of Sundays that we have been apart; this time of intensity where we have been called by God to worship in tents that look more like a tailgate party than a sanctuary. What will you remember from this time? What will we, as God’s people celebrate about this time?
Maybe we’ll make jokes lamenting the technical difficulties. Maybe we’ll continue to moan and groan about what we aren’t doing and who’s to blame, or maybe we’ll recognize with the faith of God’s children that we have been provided for all along. Maybe we’ll recognize that our traditions are not for us but rather for us to know of God’s providence and care. Maybe we’ll realize that the mana of the body of Christ that is the church, broken and shared for us and for all the world, is the best-tasting thing we’ve had in years.
I’ve had a lot of conversations over the last few months about what we will do once we are all together again, and I’m sad to say that we aren’t quite there yet. Who knows, other than God, if it will be another month of Sundays before we are back in the Sanctuary. One thing that has become clear is that the idea of sanctuary can’t be contained in a building. As God’s people, we have been given the opportunity to become for one another what we did not know that we already were.
Let’s not spoil it. Let’s not let go of the intensity of being God’s people. Let’s be good tenants of the vineyard that is found in every intentional relationship and every chance encounter. Let’s not forget that we have reached into the lives of others in ways we never knew that we could through developing a very real community online as well as in person. Let’s not shy away from the intensity of this present moment. Instead, let us be fed by it, fueled by it, and filled with grace and mercy through it! Let us be the church, the Body of Christ, broken for the world.
Oddly, though maybe not so much for those that know me, I heard the song “Best of You” by the Foo Fighters earlier this week, and something about it connected with the intensity of the day. In the song they ask the question, “Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?” and at first it means, “are you being taken advantage of?” but as the song continues the meaning changes. It becomes, “are you giving your all to someone or something that you care about?” I could never match Dave Grohl's grinding lyrical power, so I won’t try, but the song closes out like this:
“Were you born to resist or be abused?
I swear I'll never give in – I refuse
Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?
Has someone taken your faith?
It's real, the pain you feel
You trust, you must
Confess
Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?”
There is someone who has given their best for you, that is the Lord our God. Here at the font, we remember the river of life that flows from the rock of hatred. Here at this table, we celebrate the mana of heaven that consumes our lives and transforms them into sources of love and grace for all. Here in this tabernacle, we remember the One who has chosen to dwell with us, in us, and through us whether we have been good tenants or not, and so now listen as the caller moves us in the circle of life to come, be fed, and celebrate the abundance of God’s grace and mercy here, now, always, and forever. Amen!
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