Did You Hear What Jesus Said?
Preaching
Preaching the Parables
Series IV, Cycle A
Object:
Did you hear what Jesus said?
The people to whom he told the parable heard him. They heard what he said. And they didn't like what they heard! It says that after they heard it, they looked for a way to arrest him and only his celebrity status stopped them.
So maybe we ought to listen again.
Jesus told the chief priests and leaders to listen to this story: A land owner once planted a vineyard. He built a wall around it and dug a pit to crush the grapes in. He also built a lookout tower. Then he rented out his vineyard and left the country.
When it was harvest time, the owner sent some servants to get his share of the grapes. But the renters grabbed those servants. They beat up one, killed one, and stoned one of them to death. He then sent more servants than he did the first time. But the renters treated them in the same way.
Finally, the owner sent his own son to the renters, because he thought they would respect him. But when they saw the man's son, they said, "Someday he will own the vineyard. Let's kill him! Then we can have it all for ourselves." So they grabbed him, threw him out of the vineyard, and killed him.
Jesus asked, "When the owner of that vineyard comes, what do you suppose he will do to those renters?"
The chief priests and leaders answered, "He will kill them in some horrible way. Then he will rent out his vineyard to people who will give him his share of grapes at harvest time."
Jesus replied, "You surely know that the Scriptures say, 'The stone that the builders tossed aside is now the most important stone of all. This is something the Lord has done, and it is amazing to us.' I tell you that God's kingdom will be taken from you and given to people who will do what he demands. Anyone who stumbles over this stone will be crushed, and anyone it falls on will be smashed to pieces."
When the chief priests and the Pharisees heard these stories, they knew that Jesus was talking about them. So they looked for a way to arrest Jesus. But they were afraid to, because the people thought he was a prophet.
-- Matthew 21:33-46 (CEV)
Did you hear what Jesus said? Do you like it? I have a basic rule for reading scripture. If it wasn't good news you heard, you didn't hear Jesus. You heard yourself. Or you heard someone else. But you didn't hear Jesus if what you heard wasn't good.
That doesn't mean that what you hear in scripture won't be hard. Some of what Jesus says is as hard as a rock. As hard for us to hear as it was for those to whom he spoke. But the hard truth is still the truth and the truth, said Jesus, somewhere else, will make you free. The truth may be a hard thing, but it's also a good thing. And we need to hear it.
I have a little book that I've consulted over the years, titled The Difficult Sayings of Jesus. I got it for a dollar at a yard sale. It says:
The problem Professor Neil addresses in these thirty-four short chapters arose before the words of Jesus were ever committed to writing. Even during his ministry, what Jesus said was often misunderstood by his hearers ... Not every saying classified as "difficult" is perplexing for the same reasons. Sometimes Jesus' meaning seems clear enough ... until one tries to apply what he said to a particular case ... Some difficult sayings trouble us with their mortal rigor ... Some statements sound callous, if not actually immoral ... for the person who thinks to fit Jesus into a theological pigeonhole, some of the Master's words can be particularly difficult.1
I look at my book whenever what Jesus has to say is difficult for me to either accept or understand. I looked at my little book last week. What Jesus had to say in this parable is difficult. Do you know what William Neil said about it? Nothing! Because Jesus didn't say what we think he said. Jesus didn't say what we would say. Jesus didn't say what the chief priests and leaders said! They did. You do. And I do. But not Jesus! Jesus didn't say what the chief priests and leaders said in response to his story. The problem in this parable is really our problem, because we hear ourselves, not Jesus.
Jesus [said], "When the owner of that vineyard [in the parable] comes, what do you suppose he will do to those renters?" (Matthew 21:40 CEV). "What do you say?" is what Jesus said. What they said was, "He will kill them in some horrible way. Then he will rent out his vineyard to people who will give him his share of grapes at harvest time" (Matthew 21:42 CEV).
"They'll get theirs. He'll get his. They'll get what's coming to them. He'll get what's owed to him. They'll get creamed! He'll get revenge!" That sounds pretty much like what you and I say, or think, or hope, when we're treated unfairly, or we're taken advantage of, or we're cheated out of what is rightfully ours. "I don't get mad. I get even!" Ever say that? Ever think that? Ever do that? Jesus didn't! He never did and he never will. That's the gospel truth! The truth of this parable is what it tells us about God, and what it tells us about us. What it tells us about God is that he loves us.
I once heard Bill Moyers quote the Jewish thinker, Abraham Joshua Heschel, who wrote: "All human history as described in the Bible can be summarized as 'God in search of man.' "2 God looks for you and me because God loves you and me. God is the "hound of heaven," as the poet Francis Thompson put it. Thompson was a failure, and an opium addict who eventually died of tuberculosis. He would know. God will never, ever, let us go, or leave us to our own devices. That's the point of the parable. The picture the parable paints of God.
It's generally agreed that in the parable, the absentee owner who keeps trying is God; the murderous tenant farmers represent Israel, and in particular, its leaders (the ones who wanted to arrest Jesus); the slaves represent the prophets who have repeatedly called Israel back to faithfulness and often died for their trouble; and the "son" is Jesus himself.
One commentator notes that Matthew, in editing his gospel, actually changes the sequence of events slightly to make the parable conform to the passion narrative, the story of Jesus' death, which is prefigured by the death of the owner's son. "The parable is dominated by its allegorical interpretation," says Eugene Boring.3
We're supposed to make those connections, as they did. But if we do, then we must not simply accept the apparently logical and righteous answer of the chief priests and leaders as Jesus' answer, as God's answer to the question of what to do about what we do, we human beings. What we do is a matter of record. Read your Sunday paper. Turn on CNN. But what God does is not what we expect.
The twists and turns of events in the Middle East are what we have come to expect in that part of the world. But a decade or so ago, the news report was about something the people of Israel didn't expect. No one did.
The headline read, "Hardliners Cringe At Netanyahu's Embrace of Arafat." The story datelined Tel Aviv, Israel, said, "When his handshake turned into a lingering, two-handed squeeze, Israelis noticed. When he leaned over to whisper to his longtime enemy, people started talking. What was Benjamin Netanyahu doing?"4 What was the prime minister of Israel doing, cozying up to the head of the PLO?
Netanyahu said he was looking to "negotiate peace without violence."5 In a part of the world that's never known that, even in Jesus' day, that's a novel idea. It's Jesus' idea! And it was as politically difficult for Jesus as it was for the prime minister. But the parable is clear. God's answer to violence is not more violence, but more love.
The chief priests and leaders condemned themselves by their answer to Jesus' question. But God condemned no one! On the contrary, God died a condemned criminal, rather than condemn those who, as Jesus says in Luke's gospel, "... don't know what they're doing" (Luke 23:34-35 CEV). Those who don't get it, like the chief priests and leaders often get it wrong, like you and me.
"God forgives even those who kill his son." That's God's answer to Jesus' question. Would I do that? Could I do that? I don't know. I doubt it. But God can, and God does. God did, and still does, in Jesus Christ. In not doing what the chief priests and leaders said he had every right to do, could be expected to do, by our sense of justice, ought to do, God said three little words that changed the world: I love you.
Don't get me wrong. That doesn't mean that no one is responsible for anything, or that anything goes. "The stone that the builders tossed aside is now the most important stone of all," Jesus went on to say. "Anyone who stumbles over this stone will be crushed, and anyone it falls on will be smashed to pieces" (Matthew 21:42, 44 CEV). The gospel can be hard, because it not only tells us about God. It also tells us something about you and me, and our propensity for doing ourselves in. For stumbling over the truth.
Those who heard Jesus' parable did just that. They heard the truth of it. They responded with a "just" end to it. And only then realized that their condemnation was of themselves. The truth about themselves was a stone wall against which they bloodied their own heads.
The truth weighs as heavily as a rock on the life of one who lives a lie. Truth weighs on one for the lies we tell each other, and maybe most heavily, for the lies we tell ourselves. Jesus' parable was not told to have us condemn ourselves, but rather to have us listen to ourselves, and to each other. The parable calls us to quit living the lies -- and start living the lives God intends for you and me. The gospel calls us to find peace with God in Jesus Christ, and to make peace with each other in everything we say or do.
Did you hear what Jesus said? I hope so. He said, "I love you."
____________
1. William Neil, The Difficult Sayings of Jesus (Grand Rapids, Michigan: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 1977), pp. vii-viii.
2. Bill Moyers, "Call and Promise," from Genesis, A Living Conversation (New York: Doubleday, 1996).
3. The New Interpreter's Bible, Matthew, Vol. 7 (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1995), p. 414.
4. The Lima News, Lima, Ohio, Friday, October 4, 1996, A6.
5. Ibid.
The people to whom he told the parable heard him. They heard what he said. And they didn't like what they heard! It says that after they heard it, they looked for a way to arrest him and only his celebrity status stopped them.
So maybe we ought to listen again.
Jesus told the chief priests and leaders to listen to this story: A land owner once planted a vineyard. He built a wall around it and dug a pit to crush the grapes in. He also built a lookout tower. Then he rented out his vineyard and left the country.
When it was harvest time, the owner sent some servants to get his share of the grapes. But the renters grabbed those servants. They beat up one, killed one, and stoned one of them to death. He then sent more servants than he did the first time. But the renters treated them in the same way.
Finally, the owner sent his own son to the renters, because he thought they would respect him. But when they saw the man's son, they said, "Someday he will own the vineyard. Let's kill him! Then we can have it all for ourselves." So they grabbed him, threw him out of the vineyard, and killed him.
Jesus asked, "When the owner of that vineyard comes, what do you suppose he will do to those renters?"
The chief priests and leaders answered, "He will kill them in some horrible way. Then he will rent out his vineyard to people who will give him his share of grapes at harvest time."
Jesus replied, "You surely know that the Scriptures say, 'The stone that the builders tossed aside is now the most important stone of all. This is something the Lord has done, and it is amazing to us.' I tell you that God's kingdom will be taken from you and given to people who will do what he demands. Anyone who stumbles over this stone will be crushed, and anyone it falls on will be smashed to pieces."
When the chief priests and the Pharisees heard these stories, they knew that Jesus was talking about them. So they looked for a way to arrest Jesus. But they were afraid to, because the people thought he was a prophet.
-- Matthew 21:33-46 (CEV)
Did you hear what Jesus said? Do you like it? I have a basic rule for reading scripture. If it wasn't good news you heard, you didn't hear Jesus. You heard yourself. Or you heard someone else. But you didn't hear Jesus if what you heard wasn't good.
That doesn't mean that what you hear in scripture won't be hard. Some of what Jesus says is as hard as a rock. As hard for us to hear as it was for those to whom he spoke. But the hard truth is still the truth and the truth, said Jesus, somewhere else, will make you free. The truth may be a hard thing, but it's also a good thing. And we need to hear it.
I have a little book that I've consulted over the years, titled The Difficult Sayings of Jesus. I got it for a dollar at a yard sale. It says:
The problem Professor Neil addresses in these thirty-four short chapters arose before the words of Jesus were ever committed to writing. Even during his ministry, what Jesus said was often misunderstood by his hearers ... Not every saying classified as "difficult" is perplexing for the same reasons. Sometimes Jesus' meaning seems clear enough ... until one tries to apply what he said to a particular case ... Some difficult sayings trouble us with their mortal rigor ... Some statements sound callous, if not actually immoral ... for the person who thinks to fit Jesus into a theological pigeonhole, some of the Master's words can be particularly difficult.1
I look at my book whenever what Jesus has to say is difficult for me to either accept or understand. I looked at my little book last week. What Jesus had to say in this parable is difficult. Do you know what William Neil said about it? Nothing! Because Jesus didn't say what we think he said. Jesus didn't say what we would say. Jesus didn't say what the chief priests and leaders said! They did. You do. And I do. But not Jesus! Jesus didn't say what the chief priests and leaders said in response to his story. The problem in this parable is really our problem, because we hear ourselves, not Jesus.
Jesus [said], "When the owner of that vineyard [in the parable] comes, what do you suppose he will do to those renters?" (Matthew 21:40 CEV). "What do you say?" is what Jesus said. What they said was, "He will kill them in some horrible way. Then he will rent out his vineyard to people who will give him his share of grapes at harvest time" (Matthew 21:42 CEV).
"They'll get theirs. He'll get his. They'll get what's coming to them. He'll get what's owed to him. They'll get creamed! He'll get revenge!" That sounds pretty much like what you and I say, or think, or hope, when we're treated unfairly, or we're taken advantage of, or we're cheated out of what is rightfully ours. "I don't get mad. I get even!" Ever say that? Ever think that? Ever do that? Jesus didn't! He never did and he never will. That's the gospel truth! The truth of this parable is what it tells us about God, and what it tells us about us. What it tells us about God is that he loves us.
I once heard Bill Moyers quote the Jewish thinker, Abraham Joshua Heschel, who wrote: "All human history as described in the Bible can be summarized as 'God in search of man.' "2 God looks for you and me because God loves you and me. God is the "hound of heaven," as the poet Francis Thompson put it. Thompson was a failure, and an opium addict who eventually died of tuberculosis. He would know. God will never, ever, let us go, or leave us to our own devices. That's the point of the parable. The picture the parable paints of God.
It's generally agreed that in the parable, the absentee owner who keeps trying is God; the murderous tenant farmers represent Israel, and in particular, its leaders (the ones who wanted to arrest Jesus); the slaves represent the prophets who have repeatedly called Israel back to faithfulness and often died for their trouble; and the "son" is Jesus himself.
One commentator notes that Matthew, in editing his gospel, actually changes the sequence of events slightly to make the parable conform to the passion narrative, the story of Jesus' death, which is prefigured by the death of the owner's son. "The parable is dominated by its allegorical interpretation," says Eugene Boring.3
We're supposed to make those connections, as they did. But if we do, then we must not simply accept the apparently logical and righteous answer of the chief priests and leaders as Jesus' answer, as God's answer to the question of what to do about what we do, we human beings. What we do is a matter of record. Read your Sunday paper. Turn on CNN. But what God does is not what we expect.
The twists and turns of events in the Middle East are what we have come to expect in that part of the world. But a decade or so ago, the news report was about something the people of Israel didn't expect. No one did.
The headline read, "Hardliners Cringe At Netanyahu's Embrace of Arafat." The story datelined Tel Aviv, Israel, said, "When his handshake turned into a lingering, two-handed squeeze, Israelis noticed. When he leaned over to whisper to his longtime enemy, people started talking. What was Benjamin Netanyahu doing?"4 What was the prime minister of Israel doing, cozying up to the head of the PLO?
Netanyahu said he was looking to "negotiate peace without violence."5 In a part of the world that's never known that, even in Jesus' day, that's a novel idea. It's Jesus' idea! And it was as politically difficult for Jesus as it was for the prime minister. But the parable is clear. God's answer to violence is not more violence, but more love.
The chief priests and leaders condemned themselves by their answer to Jesus' question. But God condemned no one! On the contrary, God died a condemned criminal, rather than condemn those who, as Jesus says in Luke's gospel, "... don't know what they're doing" (Luke 23:34-35 CEV). Those who don't get it, like the chief priests and leaders often get it wrong, like you and me.
"God forgives even those who kill his son." That's God's answer to Jesus' question. Would I do that? Could I do that? I don't know. I doubt it. But God can, and God does. God did, and still does, in Jesus Christ. In not doing what the chief priests and leaders said he had every right to do, could be expected to do, by our sense of justice, ought to do, God said three little words that changed the world: I love you.
Don't get me wrong. That doesn't mean that no one is responsible for anything, or that anything goes. "The stone that the builders tossed aside is now the most important stone of all," Jesus went on to say. "Anyone who stumbles over this stone will be crushed, and anyone it falls on will be smashed to pieces" (Matthew 21:42, 44 CEV). The gospel can be hard, because it not only tells us about God. It also tells us something about you and me, and our propensity for doing ourselves in. For stumbling over the truth.
Those who heard Jesus' parable did just that. They heard the truth of it. They responded with a "just" end to it. And only then realized that their condemnation was of themselves. The truth about themselves was a stone wall against which they bloodied their own heads.
The truth weighs as heavily as a rock on the life of one who lives a lie. Truth weighs on one for the lies we tell each other, and maybe most heavily, for the lies we tell ourselves. Jesus' parable was not told to have us condemn ourselves, but rather to have us listen to ourselves, and to each other. The parable calls us to quit living the lies -- and start living the lives God intends for you and me. The gospel calls us to find peace with God in Jesus Christ, and to make peace with each other in everything we say or do.
Did you hear what Jesus said? I hope so. He said, "I love you."
____________
1. William Neil, The Difficult Sayings of Jesus (Grand Rapids, Michigan: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 1977), pp. vii-viii.
2. Bill Moyers, "Call and Promise," from Genesis, A Living Conversation (New York: Doubleday, 1996).
3. The New Interpreter's Bible, Matthew, Vol. 7 (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1995), p. 414.
4. The Lima News, Lima, Ohio, Friday, October 4, 1996, A6.
5. Ibid.
