The owner of the vineyard built a very big wall.
He built a tower, it was so tall.
He gave his tenants charge of the crop.
He gave them it all, from the bottom to the top.
Not a single grape was left, no, not one.
But they wouldn’t give what was due,
Not even to the owner’s son.[1]

A wealthy businessman in New York City received a desperate plea in the middle of the night. A tearful man appeared at his door and said, “Sir, you've got to help me. There is a family I know who is in desperate need. The father has been out of work for more than a year. There are five children at home, barely enough food to put on the table, and now they are about to lose their home. They'll be on the streets without a roof over their heads.” The businessman listened to this man's story and felt compassion for the family he had never met. “Well,” he said, “that certainly is a sad story. Why don't you come inside, and we'll talk about it a little more?”
Once they were seated, the businessman reached for his checkbook. “How much money do they need?” The man replied, “Three thousand dollars. They need it by tomorrow, or they'll be thrown out onto the street.” The businessman picked up his pen, but before he put ink on the check, he stopped and asked, “How do you know so much about this family's situation?” The man broke down again and said, “Because they're my tenants!”
Sometimes the person entrusted with the vineyard forgets who actually owns it.
In our Gospel today, Jesus begins by saying, “Listen to another parable.” But as we read the story, it begins to sound less like a simple parable and more like an allegory, because the details seem increasingly direct. There is a very large wall surrounding the vineyard, there is a tall tower rising above it, and the owner has carefully prepared everything. He has planted the vineyard, protected it, equipped it, and then entrusted it to tenants. The vineyard is not theirs, the fruit is not theirs, and even the wall and the tower are not theirs. They have simply been entrusted with what belongs to someone else.

And that distinction matters. The wall surrounding the vineyard is there to protect what is inside, and the tower rises above the vineyard so that someone can watch, to see what is coming, to guard what has been entrusted to them, and to protect the harvest. There is a purpose to both the wall and the tower. They are not monuments to the tenants; they exist for the sake of the vineyard and ultimately for the sake of the one who owns it.

I think there is something important for us in that image, because what is inside the vineyard is precious. It is God's creation. It is God's people. It is everything that God has entrusted to our care. And the tower has a purpose: to watch, to protect, and to proclaim. In a very real sense, that is what the Church is called to do. The Church is to stand watch over the things God has entrusted to us, to proclaim salvation, and to hold fast to the Word of God. The Church is to protect what is holy, not so that we can possess it, but so that we can faithfully hand it on to the next generation.

But here is where Jesus' parable becomes uncomfortable, because the tenants forgot who owned the vineyard. They began to confuse stewardship with ownership. They began to look at what had been entrusted to them and say, “This is ours.” When the owner sent his servants to collect what was due, they beat one, killed another, and stoned another. So the owner sent still more servants, and they did the same thing. Finally, the owner said, “Surely they will respect my son.” But when they saw the son, they said, “This is the heir. Come, let us kill him and get his inheritance.” And so they killed him.

Jesus is speaking directly to the religious leaders who were standing in front of Him, but if we are honest, this is not merely a story about them. It is a story about us, because every generation of God's people faces the temptation to forget who owns the vineyard. We can become so concerned with protecting the vineyard that we forget the One who planted it. We can become so comfortable inside the vineyard that we forget that we are tenants. We can become so attached to the walls and the tower that we forget why they were built in the first place. And we can even become so confident in our own righteousness that we fail to hear the voice of the One who owns the vineyard.

And that is where this becomes very personal for me as a priest. I have to remind myself, and I want to remind you, that this is not my church. It is not your church. It is not the Vestry's church, it is not the Finance Committee's church, it is not the rector's church, and it is not even the Diocese's church. It is God's Church. And I mean that as good news. Because if this were mine, I would have an enormous burden on my shoulders. If it were yours, you would have an enormous burden on yours. But it isn't ours. It belongs to God. We are tenants. We are stewards. We have been entrusted with something beautiful and holy, and what a freedom there is in knowing that we do not have to own the vineyard in order to tend it. We simply have to be faithful.

That is why I was thinking this morning about the first lesson from Exodus and Moses coming down from the mountain carrying the tablets of the Law. God has given His people His commands, not as arbitrary rules designed to make life miserable, but as the very structure by which His people are to live. The wall needs structure. The tower needs structure. The vineyard needs to be tended according to the purposes of the owner. When we abandon God's commands, the walls begin to weaken, and the tower begins to crumble.

We are often tempted to look for someone outside the vineyard to blame. Perhaps we blame the world, or the culture, or some external enemy, and certainly there are forces that seek to tear down what God has built. But Jesus' parable points us somewhere much closer to home. The greatest threat to the vineyard is not always outside the wall; sometimes it is inside. It is the tenant who forgets that he is a tenant. It is the steward who begins to believe he is the owner. It is the Christian who receives God's gifts and then forgets to whom those gifts ultimately belong.

Think about everything God has entrusted to us. He has given us His Word, His Church, the Sacraments, the fellowship of His people, our families, our time, our abilities, our resources, our opportunities to serve, and even this place. None of it ultimately belongs to us. It belongs to Him. When we look at this beautiful church, when we look at this property, when we think about everything we have built, repaired, maintained, and cared for, we should not first think about ownership. We should think about stewardship. And I will tell you, that is a great relief to me, because it frightens me to think that any of this belongs to me. What great freedom there is in knowing that it belongs to God. My responsibility is simply to get into the field and tend the vineyard. I don't have to control everything. I don't have to carry the whole Church on my shoulders. I simply must be faithful to the One who has entrusted it to me.

And being faithful is not always easy. Pulling grapes is hard. Protecting those grapes from the ravens and the heat and the storms and the flood can be even harder. From the time the vine is planted until the time of harvest, there is work to be done. Our lives are limited, our time is limited, and our opportunities are limited, but God's vineyard continues, and He calls us to be faithful with whatever portion of it has been placed into our hands.

Then comes the most extraordinary part of the parable. The owner sends his son. He does not send his son simply to beat the tenants into submission or to declare, “You had better give this back to me.” He sends his son to ask whether they will recognize the Father's claim upon what already belongs to Him. But the tenants reject him. They cast him outside. They kill him. Jesus is telling us what is about to happen to Him. The Son will be rejected, crucified, and cast outside the walls.

And yet, this is where the Gospel breaks into the story: the rejected Son becomes the cornerstone. “The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.” I want you to remember something the next time you walk through those red doors of this church. Before you come inside, look to your right, toward the corner of the building. You can see it from the front. There is a stone there engraved with the year 1962. It bears the name Calvary Episcopal Church and the sign of the cross. That stone was placed there before everything else was built. It is the cornerstone. And that is not merely an architectural detail. It is a sermon.
Because every building depends upon its cornerstone. The cornerstone establishes the lines, and the lines determine the building. If the cornerstone is wrong, eventually everything built upon it begins to go crooked. But if the cornerstone is true, the building can stand. Scripture tells us that Jesus Christ is that cornerstone, not simply for this building, not simply for this congregation, but for the whole Church and for our lives and for our faith and for everything we are called to build.

That is why this parable, as difficult and even frightening as it is, is ultimately a message of hope. Jesus is not telling us this story simply to condemn us; He is calling us back. The vineyard belongs to God. The harvest belongs to God. The Church belongs to God. And even when the tenants fail, God remains faithful. He sends His Son. The Son is rejected. He is crucified. He is buried. And then He rises again. That is the Gospel. That is our hope.

That means when we come into this place burdened, we don't have to have all the answers. Maybe we don't have the resources. Maybe we have lost our job. Maybe we have five children and barely enough food for the table. Maybe we don't know where the next answer is going to come from. Sometimes the answer doesn't come from a checkbook. Sometimes the answer is simply that God says, “You are in the right place. Let me work with you.” Because we are not the owners. We are His.

So what kind of tenants are we? Are we trying to possess the vineyard, or are we tending it? Are we keeping the harvest for ourselves, or are we offering it back to the One who gave it? Are we building our lives around ourselves, or are we allowing Christ to be the cornerstone? Because one day the Owner of the vineyard will come. And when He does, may He find that we have been faithful. May He find that His Word has been proclaimed, His people have been loved, the poor have been remembered, and the lost have been sought. May He find that the vineyard has been tended, not for our glory, but for His. Most of all, may He find that we have received His Son.

For the vineyard is His. The harvest is His. The Church is His. And in the end, we are His. So let us be faithful tenants, not because we are afraid of the Owner, but because we have come to know the Son. And when the Master comes looking for His harvest, may we be ready to place everything we have into His hands and simply say: “Lord, it was Yours all along.”

[1] The Rev. Jon Roberts