The Trouble with Tenants

Jesu Juva

St. Luke 20:9-20                                                                     

April 3, 2022

Lent 5C                                 

Dear saints of our Savior~

          I learned what an “honor code” was during my freshman year at Valparaiso University.  To keep students from cheating and plagiarizing, every student was expected to abide by the “honor code.”  On the front page of every paper I submitted, I had to write out and sign the following statement:  I have neither given or received nor have I tolerated others’ use of unauthorized aid.  Of course, if a student really wanted to cheat, that “honor code” really wasn’t much of a deterrent.  There was plenty of “unauthorized aid” going on—despite the honor code.

          Now, if you can’t depend on an honor code to control college freshmen at a Lutheran university, then a simple honor code will never suffice in matters of money or inheritance or real estate.  If money, inheritance, and real estate could be handled by an honor code, then a lot of lawyers would be unemployed.  It sort of makes you wonder why there were no lawyers involved in the parable Jesus tells today.  But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

          A man planted a vineyard.  And a man plants a vineyard for no other reason than to grow grapes.  And in the First Century grapes were grown for no other reason than to make wine.  And wine (in moderation) is wonderful.  Wine is for feasting and celebrating.  Wine means conversation and relaxation and fellowship and a good time being had by all.  Yes, planting a vineyard was the perfect plan.

          But then the vineyard owner made his first mistake: He let the vineyard out to tenants.  And the problem with tenants is—well, tenants can be trouble.  Renters can be rascals. The owner of the vineyard could have spared himself a whole heap of trouble if only he had kept the vineyard for himself.

          Unfortunately, the vineyard owner also did another silly thing: He took a sabbatical!  He went off to another country for a long time.    Everybody knows that if you want things taken care of properly, you stay right there and manage the situation.  You take a “hands on” approach.  An honor code will never do where tenants are concerned—especially if you’re an absentee landlord.  This guy simply expects that his tenants will be so thankful for the harvest that they’ll gladly and freely give him his portion, and everyone will celebrate together.

          But these tenants aren’t so terrific.  Whatever grapes they give to the owner will be that much less for them.  Why should they do that?  Who’s gonna make them?  When the owner then sends a succession of servants to collect the rent, the

servants are beaten, wounded, and thrown out of the vineyard empty-handed.  But this owner seems clueless.  This is the point where he should have lawyered up—called in the FBI, the ATF, the local sheriff. And it sounds absolutely absurd when he says:  I will send my beloved son; perhaps they will respect him.  It doesn’t take a degree from Valparaiso University to know that this isn’t going to turn out well.  And they threw [the son] out of the vineyard and killed him.

          This is a great parable.  It’s easily understood, especially when you consider that Jesus told it only a few days before He Himself was killed.  The vineyard is Old Testament Israel.  The owner is the Lord.  The servants He sends are the OT prophets.  The terrible tenants are the teachers of the Law, the scribes and Pharisees.  The owner’s beloved son is, of course, Jesus.

          But what does this parable mean for you and me?  What should be the impact of this parable on us?  Well, consider the question Jesus asks at the end of the parable:  What then will the owner of the vineyard do to them?  What do you think?  What do you think should happen with those terrible, treacherous, murderous tenants?  Obviously, the owner should clobber them.  Wouldn’t you? . . . Or would you?  The scribes and the chief priests perceived that Jesus had told this parable against them.  But I perceive that He’s talking about us too. 

          What’s your reaction?  What do you want to see happen?  What stands out to you the most in this parable?  Do you see terrible, treacherous tenants who are about to be permanently evicted from the vineyard?  Sinners about to get smited?  Wicked tenants getting their just desserts?  OR, do you see a generous and forgiving owner—a long-suffering landlord who is gracious and merciful and slow to anger?  Do you see an owner who purposefully, knowingly, and intentionally delivers His beloved Son into the hands of sinners, precisely so that He will suffer and be killed—and so that the murderous tenants will indeed get an undeserved, unearned inheritance?  Which way do you see it?

          This is the important question.  Martin Luther once wrote, “As you believe, so you have.”  The kind of God you believe in is the kind of God you have.  If you treat God as one who wants to stick it to you—who wants to deprive you of good things—as a cranky landlord god who demands His rights and pays back evil for evil—then that is the god you have.  If you see God as one who can’t be trusted to care for your good—if you treat Him as a threat or as an enemy—then that is the god you have.

          We have to face the truth that we’re all terrible tenants.  We live in the middle of a vineyard of blessings.  It’ a vineyard we didn’t plant, full of blessings we don’t deserve.  When it comes to the grapes we’ve all been greedy—grasping our “fair share” and then some.  We’ve been all too happy to ignore the owner—to turn our backs on Him—to turn a deaf ear to His commands—to live life on our terms, counting our grapes and hoarding our wine.  We’ve been unwilling to share—fearful that doing so will mean less for us—and we just can’t have that.  This is our sin; and it runs death deep.  The only honor code that counts is the one that says:  The wages of sin is death.

          But I’m here to tell you—now hear this!—hear and believe this, for as you believe, so you have:  the point of the parable is that all of us terrible tenants have a gracious and forgiving Landlord.  It’s almost pathetic the way He bears with us.  His faithfulness is greater than our faithlessness.  He is not an evictor of sinners, but a Savior of sinners.  He has placed you in a vineyard, not a prison—a place where you can live and love and share—a place where grace gets the final word—a place where all the tenants rejoice to live under the code of the Owner’s honor—and where the Owner’s honor and the Owner’s righteousness are freely given to undeserving, unworthy tenants.

           This is the God you have; and you can’t view Him or understand Him in any other way than through the cross of His beloved Son.  This is the ultimate incredibility of God’s love for you.  What you had coming for your sins, Jesus took in your place.  He got clobbered for you.  And now, because your sins are answered for, they can condemn you no more.  Everything that would destroy us, Jesus has faced.  And none of it—not even death—destroyed Him.  And none of it—not even death—will destroy those who belong to Him.

          And that’s you—living the good life—forgiven and free.  You have a place of honor at the owner’s table.  You have a vineyard God.  And vineyards are for growing grapes, and grapes are for making wine, and wine is for fellowship and joy.  It is with wine that Jesus gives us His blood to drink for the forgiveness of sins.  And miracle of miracles, the more generous God is with us—the more forgiving He is with us—the more there is for us to share with our fellow tenants.  We don’t have to ruin it all with our greedy ways.  Just enjoy the harvest. There’s always more—more grace, more forgiveness, and feasting that will have no end.

          In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.