Homily: 27th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year A

Readings: Is 5:1-7; Ps 80; Phil 4:6-9; Mt 21: 33-43

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About 30 years ago, after the United States Navy once again transferred me from one coast to the other, Diane and I bought a home in a quiet neighborhood of a then-rural suburb of San Diego. It was the perfect home for our growing family, and beyond the back fence we were blessed with nothing but empty hills. Among its selling points were several mature navel orange trees. It also offered a small corral in the event one wished to own a horse. Why anyone would want to do such a thing has always escaped me.

Anyway, on the fence that circled the corral grew a grapevine. Now this vine intrigued me because it actually had a few bunches of grapes hanging from it. As I examined it on that first day I heard the voice of my neighbor who was peering over the fence.

“Don’t bother,” he said. “Grape vines demand too much attention, lots of pruning and care. And those grapes aren’t very good anyway. But your orange trees are healthy. Just make sure you water them.”

As it turned out, these few words from my nosy neighbor formed the foundation of my future agricultural efforts. Afterwards I often looked at that vine, but since I didn’t prune or water it, or really do anything for it, it produced little, just a few sour grapes. But its mere presence sometimes got me thinking about what Scripture had to say about vines.

Indeed, today we heard a lot of words about vines and vineyards, about good grapes and bad, and about violence and responsibility and love. It all began with the words of our psalm in which we see how God’s chosen ones had long seen themselves as a cherished vine planted by God:

“A vine from Egypt you transplanted; you drove away the nations and planted it” [Ps 80:9].

Yes, I will make it a ruin: it shall not be pruned or hoed - Is 5:6

Then in our 1st reading, as Isaiah begins his prophetic ministry, he speaks poetically to God’s People. We heard an inspired Isaiah agreeing with the psalmist, telling the people they are the vine in God’s vineyard, a vineyard he nurtured with care. But Isaiah’s poem is wrapped in a warning because the people had rejected God’s loving care for them. They were unjust and lawless, and so Isaiah prophesies the destruction of the vineyard. Israel will be no more; its people sent into exile.

If only they had been more attentive to God’s will for them…

If only they had been just…

Yes, if only…they would then have been fruitful.

As St. Paul instructed the people of Philippi in our 2nd reading: “…whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious… think about these things” [Phil 4:8].

This, friends, is how we are called to live. Not as the Israelites did. Not in fear and anxiety. Not in violence and hatred. Not in anger and revenge. Such things should have no place in our hearts. And once we allow God to prune us, once we allow Him to remove those unproductive branches, then, as Paul reminds us, “…the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus” [Phil 4:7].

And then, in our Gospel passage from Matthew, Jesus takes Isaiah’s image of the vineyard and vine, and applies it to the chief priests and those who exercise their authority over the people.

In His parable, Jesus describes a vineyard owner whose servants are sent in advance to remind the tenants of all they owe the owner. But the servants are beaten and killed. And believe me; those listening to Jesus knew what He was saying, for that’s exactly what happened to the prophets.

Jesus goes on to predict His own death; for in their willfulness, their lust for power, the tenants commit the horrendous act of killing the owner’s son. Our Lord then asks His audience of chief priests and elders, “What will the owner do to those tenants…?” [Mt 21:40] Prophetically they reply that the owner will punish them and bring in new tenants to replace those motivated by violence and greed. And with that, Jesus turns their own words, their own prophecy, against them: “…the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that will produce its fruit” [Mt 21:43].

And so, it’s through the sacrifice of the Son that the Father makes a relationship with new tenants. He does so by establishing a New Covenant. The Father, you see, doesn’t give up on the vineyard into which he had invested so much. No, the vineyard will endure, but it will be tended by others, tended by a Church that will appreciate all that the Father has done for His people.

Incidentally, I've actually heard Christians use this parable as justification for condemning the Jews. Such thinking goes against all that the Church teaches. As Pope Benedict told a delegation of Jews, the Catholic Church is “called to respect the Covenant established by God with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. She also places herself… in the eternal Covenant of the Almighty, who does not repent of his plan and respects the children of the Promise, children of the Covenant, as her beloved brothers in the faith.” In the words of Pope Pius XII, “To be anti-Semitic is to be anti-Christian.”

The kingdom of God will be given to a people that will produce its fruit - Mt 21:43

This parable, then, isn’t a story about winning or losing. To think so is to misunderstand it. No, it’s about how we must tend the vineyard God has given us. For as the vineyard’s new tenants, we are called to care for it as we wait for the harvest. Unlike me, who did nothing to tend my California grapevine, we are called to be waterers and weeders, pruners and feeders.

Interestingly, brothers and sisters, when we tend the vine and make it fruitful, we do the same to ourselves. You see, my neighbor’s words about my unproductive backyard vine brought to mind the words Jesus spoke to the apostles the night before He died. Remember those words?

“I am the vine, you are the branches” [Jn 15:5].

Well, looking at that backyard grapevine of mine, one thing was obvious. The vine wasn’t at all like one of my orange trees with its trunk and the branches growing from it. No, as I looked at the grapevine I could see that the branches and the vine were one. Indeed, the branches are the vine! You can’t separate them.

Just consider what this means. Through the Incarnation, Jesus became more than just one of us. He became us! That’s right He became you and He became me! This is how He can say so emphatically: “Whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me” [Mt 25:40].

Just think of that! You and I and Jesus are one. And so to exclude another from your life is to exclude Jesus. To exclude another, to exclude Jesus, is to exclude yourself.

The good news? Jesus works right alongside us as we labor in the Father’s vineyard to usher in the Kingdom. Yes, in doing the work of the Father, Jesus does all the heavy lifting. We need only do as He asks.

And, brothers and sisters, the Kingdom bears fruit because the Church – and that’s you and I – is called to be merciful and just, as the Father is merciful and just. The Kingdom bears fruit because, as Jesus promised us, “I am with you always until the end of the age” [Mt 28:20]

And that day is still to come.

Homily: 5th Sunday of Easter

Readings: Acts 9:26-31; Ps 22; 1 Jn 3:18-24; Jn 15:1-8

About 35 years ago Diane and I bought a house in the country outside San Diego. It was really a neat place and even had a small horse corral. Now I suppose a corral is a wonderful thing for those who like horses, but for a city boy like me, well, it was completely useless.

Anyway, on the first day in our new house, I noticed a grape vine in the back yard. It hadn’t been very well cared for and its few grapes looked pretty pathetic. At first I intended simply to remove it, dig it out and replace it with something else, but something stopped me.

For me there’s always been something very spiritual about grapevines. And I couldn’t help but recall the words of today’s Gospel passage from John: “I am the true vine, and my Father is the vine-grower…I am the vine and you are the branches” [Jn 15:1,5]. Now, I’d never owned a grapevine before, but in some strange way, having this vine in my backyard seemed like a direct connection to the Gospel. Digging out that vine would be a little like removing Jesus from my life.

Of course, I knew nothing about grapevines, and I still don’t. Oh, I enjoy the finished product, the occasional glass of good wine, but that’s about it. And because I didn’t know how to care for it, that backyard vine of mine never really flourished.

In Jesus’ time grapevines were likely plentiful, and there were probably a lot of backyard vineyards, all no doubt tended far more carefully than mine. But vineyards weren’t just common; there was also something transcendent about them

This metaphor of vineyard, and vine, and branches was something the apostles had all heard before. And as Jesus spoke to them, I’m pretty sure those twelve men realized that in these mysterious words He was saying something truly important.

Isaiah, in his hymn of the vineyard, revealed God’s plan for Israel. He “planted the choicest vines” [Is 5:2] but those vines, God’s chosen people, were not fruitful. The prophet Jeremiah repeats the claim: “I planted you, a choice vine…”, but they became a spurious vine [Jer 2:21]. Again, Psalm 80 sings of Israel as a vine: “You brought a vine out of Egypt…It took root and filled the land” [Ps 80:9-10]. But those same words are also prophetic, and foreshadow the coming of the Messiah in the person of Jesus Christ, brought out of Egypt by Mary and Joseph [Mt 2:21].

And now these words were being fulfilled in the Apostles’ hearing. Can you imagine what thoughts filled their minds? I know when I hear those words – “I am the vine, you are the branches.” – I am flooded with all sorts of images. I see more than my pathetic San Diego vine. When I hear those words, I’m awed by all of God’s creation, the spectacular wonder of it all, from the microscopic complexity of the living cell to the vast enormity of the universe.

These words, you see, were spoken by the Creative Word of God Himself, and He uses this little piece of His creation – a grapevine – to remind us of just Who our Savior really is. It’s as if He created the vine just for this purpose. These words teach us and touch us in the most profound way and with the most profound truths.

We are called out of ourselves, out of our individual lives of petty worries and little joys and big concerns and heartfelt sorrows – we’re called out of this into God’s life. He wants us to be a real part of that life, of the divine life.

He is the vine; we are the branches. Can you separate the vine from the branches? No, they’re all of one piece. Unless, of course, a branch is cut off completely. This more than intimate connection offers us a glimpse of the relationship the Father desires with us.

But as branches on the same vine, we are also in relationship with each other. As Christians we don’t live our lives in isolation. No, we’re called to live in loving relationship with each other and with Jesus Christ. And any relationship, if it is to develop, must be continually cultivated. That vine and its branches must be cared for. If, like my backyard vine, it’s neglected – if its branches are never pruned, if it’s never watered, it will either become overgrown and fruitless, or it will wither away.

I suppose the question for each of us is apparent: What kind of branch am I?

If our lives are not fruitful we run the risk of being cut off from the vine, of being eternally separated from the divine life God wants for us. For any branch that is cut off soon withers and dies.

But we all need some pruning, brothers and sisters. What needs to be pruned from my life, from your life? What sinfulness separates you and me from the divine life God wants for us? What selfishness separates us from the lives of our brothers and sisters in Christ? Have our lives become little more than a search for material happiness, the happiness that never lasts? Only by pruning these things from our lives will we experience the true joy that God alone offers.

Do I need to be watered with God’s Word? How did St. Jerome put it? “Ignorance of Scripture is ignorance of Jesus Christ.” But knowledge means little if we don’t live in a relationship with Jesus.

Do I need to be fed with His Body and Blood, with the miracle of the Eucharist – the very source and summit of our lives as Christians?

We must tend the vines, friends, and grow in our relationship with the Trinity and with each other. Look at the true vine. See how its branches intertwine, how they wrap around each other, disguising the difference between vine and branches. This is a glimpse of the divine life each one of us was created to share, life with the Trinity itself.

The Father desired each of us to exist. You and I are unique creations, brought into being out of love.

The Son gave His life, suffered and died, for each one of us, and through His Resurrection gave us the hope of eternal life.

And the Spirit, the Spirit does God’s work in the world. He plants the vine; He waters it with God’s Word; He feeds it with God’s grace; and He prunes it lovingly so it will bear perfect fruit.

And so, the vine and the branches are quite simply the Good News of Jesus Christ.

Praised be Jesus Christ…now and forever.