Sermons

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Sour Grapes
November 16, 2003
Pastor Dan Baumgartner
3rd in a series “Images from Isaiah”
Isaiah 5:1-7, Mark 12:1-9

There’s something deep inside of us, that when love really stirs…we are moved to break into song or poetry. When I proposed to my wife in 1981…I sang her a love song.

And for ME to sing a cappella MUST have meant I was head over heels in love!...and so we have this place on Magnolia Boulevard that we drive by with the kids every so often, and I slow down and say, “See those steps? That’s where I asked your mom to marry me.” And they all say, “Yeah, yeah and you sang her that song!”

As we continue our series in Isaiah this morning, we get to read the beginning of a love song. Turn with me to Isaiah 5:1-7, and then we’ll pick up some other verses from chapter 5 as we go:

“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height.
my soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle light.
I love thee freely…I love thee purely…
I love thee with the passion…I love thee with the breath…
I love thee with a love…
…and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.”

That’s Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s famous love song to her husband, Robert, back in 1846. The Brownings married a bit later in life, and most of Elizabeth’s writing career took place while she was ill from one sickness or another. She died quite young, and they really had very few years together but she left us these enduring words:

“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.”

And now this crusty old prophet Isaiah offers us another love song:

“Let me sing for my beloved
my love-song concerning his vineyard…”

The love song is what the beloved, the master of the vineyard does: He pours his heart and soul into the vineyard. Painstakingly, he chooses just the right spot, a fertile hill with good, rich dirt. He marks out the dimensions of the choicest ground, and digs it out. One by one he picks out the stones that seem to keep popping up, until only the rich earth remains. He goes away and purchases the very best of vines to put into his precious vineyard. He fences it, in fact he double fences it…a fence AND a wall. He builds a watchtower, a small structure that a guard can stay in and keep animals or thieves out of the vineyard. And then with the sweat of his brow he hews out a vat that will hold all of the fertile produce that the vineyard produces, the rich juice that is squeezed out of the grapes, drop by drop.

How do I love thee? The vineyard master would say,

“Here’s how I love thee: I planned and cared for you, I have built you with love and the best of ingredients. And now I will enjoy the good fruit you bear: grapes, good wine and vinegar.”

How do I love thee? God would say to his people:

“I have created you and provided for you. I have placed you in the fruit of the earth, given you families and friends and work and children and all the blessings of the earth…and I now I will enjoy the good fruit of my people knowing me and walking with me.”

BUT…the vineyard yielded only wild grapes. Literally, the original language says “stinky fruit,” sour grapes…useless ones. Bad fruit.

And so the Master says, “What more was there to do for my vineyard that I have not done in it? Why did it yield sour grapes?” And Isaiah gives the explanation:

“The vineyard of the Lord of hosts is the house of Israel, the people of Judah are his pleasant planting…he expected justice but saw bloodshed, righteousness but heard only a cry.”

What did these sour grapes look like? the absence of justice and righteousness.

But Isaiah spells it out much more specifically. In verse 7 & 8:

“You who join house to house, who add field to field until there is room for no one but you.”

Until there is room for no one but you.

In Isaiah’s day land was the most critical asset one could possess. Land ran in families, and was only disposed of in the direst of emergencies. It was residential, it was income-producing, it was an inheritance. Life revolved around a community that lived near to one another. Then came the day of land accumulation, and people looking for ways to acquire more land. Things changed. Houses grew larger, fields became estates and people were forced to live farther apart. The poor, or those in difficult situations, of course, became the ones with no lands. “Until there is room for no one but you.”

Some things haven’t changed so much, of course. Land is still important. It is generally what the poor do not have. As a society, we find it harder and harder to make provision for lands that benefit the public generally (parks, greenbelts, etc.)…let alone the poor more specifically (housing). I still remember the years in the early ’90s when the Aloha Hotel down on Aurora was being considered as a transitional homeless housing site (which it is now). Even though it was separated by a large greenbelt area from the upper part of the hill…the heated debate made it clear that for many of us…there was “room for no one but you.” This is one reason I love the work of Habitat for Humanity and ministries like it. They are creating a kind of room for people…instead of eliminating it.

Land is the physical representation of “room for people.” Perhaps there are other kinds as well. This week it made me wonder: Do you have space in your life for people? Or is it so scheduled that people interactions are wedged into small time slots? (One striking thing about Africa was that people spent time together…whether working or sitting under a tree.) Do you make space for people around you? Do you give attention to folks who are different than you? Lately I have found myself praying that I would consider people that I run into “coincidentally…” as people that God has placed directly in my path for some reason. Is there space for them? A few minutes to talk? Time to ask a question beyond “How are you?” How do I love thee? Making room.

In chapter 5, Isaiah lists many examples of these wild, sour grapes, the bad fruit that the vineyard was bearing. Not making room for others is one type. Another comes further on, in verse 20:

“Ah, you who call evil good and good evil.”

It is a mark of our day also that things are regularly mixed up and confused. Right is called wrong, and wrong is called right. We mislabel things. We continue to do things that systematically destroy the environment and call it “economic opportunity.” We pay sports coaches more than presidents of universities or governors of states and look the other way when they violate rules…and call it “the competitive edge.” We price medicine and drugs that literally could save people’s lives all over the globe…so high that only the rich or insured can afford them and we call it “market-driven.” It’s a crazy, upside down world.

And if you’re not careful, you find yourself watching a movie, rooting for the man who is unfaithful to his wife, or for the hero to kill more and more challengers. We become so immersed, so steeped in it that it impacts our ability to perceive. And it just carries over to the way we compete for promotions, or file our taxes, or the secrets we withhold from one another…right is called wrong, wrong is called right.

Sometimes I think the whole world longs for someone to stand up and say, “No, actually that is wrong.” Who will call the truth the truth, and the lie a lie? Maybe it takes a prophet. Like Isaiah. Or maybe just an ordinary person. Like you. Or me. How do I love thee? Call the truth the truth.

Not making room for people, calling right wrong and wrong right. Bad fruit. Sour grapes. Isaiah lists one more piece that caught my eye,

“The people rejected the instruction of the Lord of hosts and have despised the word of the Holy One of Israel.”

The word of God goes out…the Spirit of God speaks, in scripture, inside of us and we say, “We’ll figure it out ourselves…Don’t tell me what to do…I have my own plans…I’ll come back to God when I’m in trouble.”

Perhaps God would say to us, “Anybody can do those things. But not you. You are my people…listen for my voice.” How do I love thee? Following God’s word.

Bad fruit. And so the people of God are kicked out of yet another garden.

“And now I will tell you what I will do to my vineyard. I will remove its hedge and it shall be devoured; I will break down its wall and it shall be trampled down…”

The master of the vineyard says, “I can take no more.” The God of the universe says, “Enough!”

In Israel’s day, “Enough!” was spoken through the international events of the day. Isaiah saw God acting in history. When God removed the hedge, Assyria roared in and captured the North (722 BC). When God broke down his wall of protection, Babylon roared in and captured the south (587 BC), and carried off the captives, the leaders, the rulers.

“He will raise a signal for a nation far away, and whistle for a people at the ends of the earth; Here they come, swiftly, speedily…they will roar over on that day, like the roaring of the sea…and in the land is only darkness or distress.”

How do I love thee? It appears that God loved his people so much, so very much…that though reluctant…he is willing to let his people encounter the consequences of life without him…if that’s what they choose… always desiring their return.

Really? Isn’t that a strange kind of love? A love that would intentionally remove itself and allow someone to undergo pain? Or more confusing yet, to even bring it about? After all, it was God who whistled to the military neighbors of Israel and Judah and stood back to see them taken over and sent into exile. Isn’t that a strange kind of love?

When our kids were little, we had to teach them about the fireplace. One at a time, they all had to learn. You can’t go near the fire. Cannot. We loved them too much to let them get burned. We had to put the limit on: If you go close to the fire, you will go to your room. Or you will get a spanking. Or you won’t get to go to the park. Or whatever the consequences, depending on whether it was Anne or me and what stage of development we were in on disciplining the kids.

The point is…we wanted our kids to be healthy and whole. And when they went too close to the fire…which they inevitably all did, they had to face the consequences. And I’m sure, from their perspective, it felt like we were withdrawing our love when we carried out the consequences. But of course, it wasn’t. It was demonstrating how much we loved them. It wasn’t fun to do. But if they didn’t learn, then they would be in danger. And we did love them too much for that.

How do I love thee?

Israel and Judah would not follow after God. Despite their place as God’s chosen people, despite their history, despite God’s love demonstrated in land and relationship and favor, they would not follow after God: no justice, no righteousness…no room for people, calling evil good and good evil, despising God’s word and instruction…

What more was there for me to do for my vineyard? God says, and you can almost hear the pleading in his voice. And so chapter five shows us the images when the hedge and wall of protection are taken down, and Israel will be shattered: Houses will be emptied, fields barren, exiles banished, hunger, thirst.. What is left? Only darkness and distress, and “the light grows dark with clouds.” When we won’t follow after God, we encounter the consequences of life without him. It seems that God allows it…that he may even cause it. It is part of how he loves us.

Chapter five is dark. The one glimmer of light in the whole chapter…is the love with which the master made the vineyard. The chapter ends, like a movie awaiting a sequel. And the sequel comes in the New Testament passage Jennifer read earlier from Mark 12. The parable Jesus tells there is one of only three that are in all three of the synoptic gospels, with wording almost exactly the same.

Jesus’ parable starts out the same way…in fact, the EXACT same way as the Isaiah vision. In fact, I have to believe that Jesus knew Isaiah 5 as he opened his mouth in parable:

“A man planted a vineyard, put a fence around it, dug a pit for the wine press, and built a watchtower…”

But then Jesus deviates. The owner then leases it to tenants who refuse to honor the original contract. Instead, every messenger that the owner sends…is beaten or killed. Every one. If Isaiah’s picture of the vineyard is a love song that shows how much care God puts into the vineyard, then Mark’s shows how persistent God is in expressing his love. Over and over he sends his servants. Over and over again they are rejected. How do I love thee?

Finally, the BELOVED son is sent, as the ultimate expression of the owner’s desire to continue the relationship with the tenants. The heir arrives, but is dragged out of the vineyard and killed.

“What will the owner of the vineyard do?” Jesus asks those gathered around him, and you can hear the pleading in his voice. But before they can speculate, Jesus gives the answer: “He will come and destroy the tenants and give the vineyard to others.”

If you listen to Isaiah, surely you can imagine his listeners hanging on his picture of the vineyard…then being shocked when Isaiah applies its destruction to them. Mark tells us directly that when Jesus finished his parable…the listeners “knew he was talking about them.” And if we are careful listeners today…then perhaps we too will be forced to say: “God may be talking to ME.”

If Isaiah’s story applies to us, then God’s heart LONGS for us to acknowledge him and the care he has put into us from the beginning. If Mark’s story applies to us, then God’s heart is persistent in expressing his love.

How do I love thee? “With all of my heart,” says the Lord. “With a deep and everlasting love. So deep and so lasting that it may mean allowing you to encounter life without me…living as sour grapes. But always with the desire that you would return to Me and know the richness of the vineyard.”