Standing in this pulpit is an honor, a blessing, and a very humbling experience. You may have noticed that before I begin to speak from here, I take a moment to breathe and look around. I look at your faces, I gain courage, and sometimes I smile. I am happy to see you in the pews. 

And sometimes I remember those who have sat in these pews in the past. In my head this church is crowded with people past and present who call or have called Emmanuel their spiritual home.

This morning, you may be here experiencing difficult times, others today have come in joyful times, and still others are not quite sure why they are here. A few have arrived seeking, though not all are seeking the same thing. That’s all to the good, whatever state you are in. We are here today to the glory of God regardless of our present circumstances. 

Today’s lessons have brought to my mind two parishioners who used to be here, used to attend mass most every Sunday and used to serve God faithfully at Emmanuel. I can still remember which pews were theirs.  As they are no longer living, I cannot ask their permission to share a bit of their stories, but I do not think they would mind.

I have a somewhat checkered past with today’s psalm. Some of you may be surprised to know that the 23rd psalm is not a personal favorite. That comes from being a hospital chaplain for a time. During those months I recited this psalm multiple times each day. By the end of that summer, I figure that I said that psalm at least 500 times—the question asked of me would be, “Chaplain, could you say the 23rd psalm, King James Version, please?” And I would smile and say, of course! This is a well-known psalm, often memorized as a child. Many people, even if they are not religious, have heard it and can relate to it. And in the hospital setting one clause especially brought comfort, “yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for thou art with me.”

I understood that for many the images of shepherd, green pastures and so on brought comfort in crisis. For me, I would think of the other 149 psalms and wonder if just once I might get to use a different one. After that summer, I did not want to hear that particular psalm again for a very long time. 

As did some at Emmanuel, my friend Nancy, knew that psalm was not a personal favorite. Some years after that, Nancy was very ill.  I came to see her when she had been in and out of consciousness for a few days. It was evident she was near death. When I got there, she was awake but in a lot of pain, moving her arms and legs as she tried to find a comfortable spot. 

We greeted each other and she took my hand and quietly said, “Chris, I know you don’t like the 23rd psalm very much but could you recite the King James Version for me, could you do it for me?”  With tears in my eyes, I did. I could see her relax. Her arms and legs stopped moving. She laid back on her pillow and lightly closed her eyes with just a hint of a smile. The power of the poetry comforted her in a way nothing else had been able to do. 

After Nancy’s death, I decided I needed to look at this psalm again.  It ministered to so many people that I wanted to reflect on why. It brings deep peace knowing that the Lord is our shepherd. Shepherds care for their sheep, daily. They watch over those in their flock, seeing that they are protected and have what they need each day. The psalm says the Lord does that for us. It is not just at the point of death that our shepherd will be with us. Jesus, our good shepherd, is with us throughout our life. 

It is personal, Jesus is our shepherd to lead us, to feed us, and to give us rest. We do not have to be afraid of anything life might bring us because our shepherd, the Lord, is with us through it all. The Lord is a companion for us as well as a leader and protector.  

God’s goodness and mercy never simply follow at a distance and certainly don’t wait until we take our last breath. Instead, God’s goodness and mercy seek us out actively, wanting to engage us and refresh our lives. And this is for “all the days of our life”. The message that Psalm 23 brings is much more about life than it is about death. 

God is with us guiding and leading us throughout our journey. Certainly, we know this in times of crisis or death, but even more so in everyday events and challenges. God is there to be our shepherd. We can trust him and when we do, we become closer to him. We never need to be afraid because God is with us.

This is the hope in which we can live. And it is the hope that Nancy knew and why hearing that psalm was so important to her. Just as God had been present with her throughout her life, he was with her at that very moment. She was not alone. I remember the 23rd psalm, King James Version, and Nancy.

Today’s epistle was a favorite of another friend of mine, Jean. Jean lived a very long life, dying at age 104 and she had a century’s worth of life experiences. For her last years, she was physically unable to attend worship here. But her nephew took photos of all the stained glass windows in this nave and these pictures were taped around her bed. She was surrounded by reminders of this space that had meant so much to her.

One of the last Sundays she was able to be at Emmanuel, she was about 95 then, she fell, tripping on a rug and pulling her walker on top of her. She went by ambulance to the emergency room. After church that day I went to the hospital to see her. She asked that I read today’s passage from Philippians to her at that time. “Rejoice in the Lord always; and again I will say, rejoice.” 

Jean had spent her time on the floor at Emmanuel and in the ambulance calling out the reasons she had to rejoice. She gave thanks for the ambulance workers, for those who stayed with her at the church, for the emergency room personnel and on and on. 

Jean had learned throughout her life to follow Paul’s words and rejoice, rather than lament, what challenges life brought. Her long life had brought many challenges. To name a few, she had been born on a homestead in the Dakotas in the early 1900’s. Her mother died when she was an infant and she spent most of her early life being shuffled from place to place and person to person. 

She married late, after having a career as a nurse. Her husband died unexpectedly when she was the mother of two small children, one having special needs. There was no insurance so she went back to work to support them. Life was not always kind to her and yet her choice was to always rejoice and give thanks to God for the life she had.

After all, she knew that Paul wrote this passage while he was in prison and yet he could praise God for all he had done for him. In her life Jean chose to follow Paul’s example.

 This morning’s lessons are especially meaningful to me as I remember Jean and Nancy, women who are part of the cloud of witnesses who have worshiped in Emmanuel’s pews and who embodied what these passages teach.  
God asks us to rejoice in all our circumstances as we know that he is near us, bearing our burdens with us, leading, protecting and guiding us throughout our lives. Rejoice in the Lord always, and again I will say rejoice!

Deacon, could you please read the twenty third psalm in the King James Version?

Of course. (smile)

1 The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
2 He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
3 He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
5 Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

I give personal thanks and rejoice in all who worship here, past and present, who embody the scriptures for me, especially today for Nancy and Jean, and for each of you.

Amen.

For many years, Melissa and I received a regular shipment of wine from the French vintner, Benjamin Darnault. We were fond of his Minervois blend of Syrah and Grenache. We tried to keep some bottles aside for special occasions and to mature in the cool beneath our staircase. But we couldn’t resist uncorking a few bottles shortly receiving each case. 

Around this time each year, the vineyard would send an e-mail with images of grapevines heavy with clusters, or the sun rising over rows of vines beautiful in early morning mists. The light looked like liquid gold pouring from the sky. Each year, it always put me in an autumnal mood.

Grapevines and vineyards stand as potent symbols in Holy Scripture. On the one hand, the dangers of the fermented grape are well-known: Noah is the first example. He is declared by God to be blameless in his generation, but he nonetheless embarrasses himself after a night of too much drinking. Indeed, drunkenness is not exactly smiled upon throughout the Bible. A big surprise, I’m sure. On the other hand, the grape’s inebriating potential can be celebrated, alongside the nourishing powers of wheat and olive oil and the flourishing of plants that sustain life. Psalm 104, attributes all this to God. Verses 13 to 18:

You water the mountains from your dwelling on high; *
    the earth is fully satisfied by the fruit of your works.
 You make grass grow for flocks and herds *
    and plants to serve mankind;
 That they may bring forth food from the earth, *
    and wine to gladden our hearts,
 Oil to make a cheerful countenance, *
    and bread to strengthen the heart. 

Or, as Benjamin Franklin put it in a letter, the miracle of water becoming wine is a daily miracle. Rain falls from heaven, nourishing the grapes and becoming wine; “it proves constantly that God loves us and that he loves when we are happy” (B. Franklin to  Abbé Morellet, 1779).

When I read that Psalm, I imagine God high above the mountains, tipping his watering can, and knowing all the good things he is providing for us.

Scripture goes beyond these celebrations of seed-time and harvest. It even goes beyond the assertion that God himself makes things grow for us. The grapevine and vineyard are also symbols of God’s people: first, a symbol for Israel and Judah, the Lord’s “pleasant planting”; second, a symbol of the kingdom that Jesus is bringing in.

Now, you are intelligent people, so I am sure you noticed these resonances already, these clusters of viticultural metaphors in our readings. We have Isaiah’s “love-song” concerning the vineyard, the Psalm’s imagery of an outrageously vigorous vine growing higher than the mountains; and then there is Jesus’ parable about the vineyard. 
In each case, in the songs and the stories, the vineyard is facing destruction or transfer. There is a perplexing character to each version: a problem. 

For Isaiah, it is the problem of rebellion. The story goes like this. God did everything to ensure the fruitful life of his people. As an assiduous vintner, he dug, and cleared, planted and built, hewed and watched. But his vineyard did not yield the grapes he hoped for, it yielded “wild grapes.” He laments: “What more was there to do for my vineyard that I have not done?” God is a frustrated gardener here, frustrated by his people. He has done everything for them, yet instead of leading good lives, yielding the fruits of justice, they produced bloodshed, wickedness, “a cry”!

The Psalm speaks of the vine a little differently. Here there is a mysterious story of divine action and neglect, accompanied by prayers of restoration. There’s an implicit question. Why would God grow the vine so magnificently, only to have it devoured by wild beasts? 

“Restore us,” the Psalmist says. “Turn now, O God of hosts, behold and tend this vine; preserve what your right hand has planted.” God can step in, and the vine shall live.

Finally, the parable in the Gospel. The problem in the parable is very different. It is not that the vineyard is unfruitful or been abandoned to beasts. It’s been given to tenants, and they are seeking to take it for themselves. They do not want to yield its fruits to the landowner; they commandeer the harvests; they beat the owner’s slaves; they kill his heir. Jesus told this parable for a reason, to address some specific people. The “chief priests and the scribes realized that he was speaking about them,” as our reading says, and subsequently they played their role well. They sought to kill him, the heir. Jesus points to a difficult reality: sometimes the problem for God’s people isn’t their disobedience or even divine negligence. Sometimes the problem is those who have been appointed to lead them and care for them.

Every one of these vineyards we’re hearing about – the one in the lovesong, the one in the Psalm, the one in the parable – every one points to distinct times in the history of salvation. We might appropriate them differently. The prophet addresses a nation running headlong toward injustice. The Psalmist laments a situation of personal and national ruin. Our Lord speaks to those who did not know their place, but sought too much for themselves. Where is the lesson for us in this season, at this time of harvest?

I began with the basics, that story of grapes Southern France. We live in a world of such wonder and glory. God has provided so many things for our enjoyment: the grain, the wine, the oil. We are like that “pleasant planting” described Isaiah’s love-song. We may rightly ask: Do we not owe God something for all this abundance? Do we not owe our neighbor something: some measure of justice? And shouldn’t our gratitude for God’s gifts increase year by year? The lesson for Israel and Judah may still be the lesson for us.

And when it comes to our Psalm, I want to address those having a hard time: it can be appropriate to lament when we are brought low. It is ok to ask why. Perhaps you were flourishing once, perhaps you felt higher than the mountains. Or maybe you remember, as Israel did, a time when your community was more than it is now. The Church in this part of the country; indeed, even this parish, was once more than it is now. In such times, we should call upon God, saying “Restore us, O God of hosts; show the light of your countenance and we shall be saved.” 

As for Jesus’ parable, it speaks most directly to those of us who are leaders in the Church today: the clergy, for example. We are laborers in God’s vineyard; we do not own it. We are not the kings of the kingdom of heaven. God is king. We do not own you. We are here to care for you, to nourish and cultivate this vineyard and help present its fruits to the one who is our common Lord. 

Happily, we may find all we need to respond well today. Here, at our common altar, we are presenting the fruits of the harvest with gratitude to God. Here, we are seeking from God the forgiveness for our failings. Here, we plead with confidence, saying, “Restore us, O God.” 
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And in a little while, a shining chalice will receive the liquid gold of wine. The bread shall be broken. We will bring our offerings and lay them on the table. We will seek God’s blessing, and we will receive in our own hands and lips heavenly food, spiritual drink – “taken from the earth” as bread and wine, but returned to us for our immortality. Here, our hearts are filled with strength and joy at the harvest.

This summer Emmanuel heard a series of sermons on Paul’s letter to the Romans. Each preacher spoke about the Epistle reading of the day during those weeks. In the Lectionary, that epistle ended last Sunday. Today I will speak about a few of the lessons and what I see as common themes from them. As the weeks proceed until Advent, the preachers will make different choices as to their sermon content. If you have thoughts about the summer sermon series, we would be happy to hear them.

The psalmist tells us, “One generation shall laud your works to another, and shall declare your mighty acts.” 

We who are alive now are the faith bearers for the generations to come. We are the ones who tell the stories of our Lord to those we know and to those we may never know, just as we were told the stories by others in days past. Our faith is built on stories and from the beginning that is how people came to know God, through listening to these stories of how God interacted with his people. Eventually these stories were written down to become a body of scripture. If you look around this sanctuary you will see many events of our Lord’s life depicted in the stained-glass windows, which is another way that these stories have passed through the ages. Listening, reading, seeing these stories give us God’s word and help us to know his love. 

This morning’s lessons contain two parables, stories with a point, with a truth about God’s kingdom that is stronger than the story itself. Parables, pictures, stained glass, hymns and other music carry the message that lives on beyond our lives. These invite us into God’s story and are ways to help us teach those who are younger about the faith. Then they will be equipped to bear that same faith to others.  Part of what I want to stress this morning is that we are faith bearers for our time. We are now the generation David wrote about in the morning’s psalm so many years ago. It is our time and our turn to laud God’s works and declare His mighty acts. 

Let’s take a closer look at today’s stories. And as we do, let’s keep in mind another truth that is crystallized by a different verse from the morning’s psalm: “The Lord is gracious and full of compassion, slow to anger and of great kindness.”

These are comforting words when we hear them and recognize ourselves as the recipient of God’s mercy and kindness. Certainly. Yet how do we feel when we observe the mercy of God towards others, especially those we feel are less deserving of God’s love? Today’s parables challenge us to think about this question.

Our first reading is part of the story of Jonah.  If you heard this as a child, I am sure you remember it! Something about the water and the big fish make it very appealing to the young.  It also should be an engaging story to us who are older as Jonah is a character with whom we can connect.  He seems genuine in his reaction to God.  His experience with God rings true to humankind and we can see ourselves in his responses. 

Jonah is the antithesis of the other Prophets in the Old Testament. Instead of hearing, proclaiming and doing what the Lord asks, he does the exact opposite. 

When God calls him to go east and give the people of Nineveh a message to repent, Jonah immediately goes west to avoid being the messenger.  This first part of Jonah’s story of being on a boat in the middle of a bad storm is a satire on the dangerous situations in which the other prophets found themselves. It is only after God has shown mercy to Jonah and saved him from a terrible death that Jonah finally does what God has asked of him.  Today’s reading begins at this point.  

Jonah has delivered God’s message to the people of Nineveh and amazingly enough, they have listened to Jonah and have done as he asked. God, in his mercy, has changed his mind about the punishment he was going to bring on them.  It would seem that a prophet in this position would be very happy, would it not?  Jonah has brought a message; the people have heard it and remarkably have acted on it and God has relented.  What better news could Jonah have had?

God had been merciful to Jonah when he saved him from drowning in the ocean or dying in the body of the big fish, and yet when God is merciful to those in Ninevah, instead of rejoicing, Jonah is angry! He tells God, “Here are all these miserable offenders and all you can do is be gracious and merciful? Why did you not punish them?”

Jonah continued in his talk with God, “I knew all along that you would relent so why did you need me to bother with these people? This is not fair!” And Jonah went off to sulk. The story finishes with an even more unusual tale of a big tree-eating worm. 

Finally, the point is made clear; God’s mercy and compassion are unbelievable.  Their scope covers all, not just Jonah, not just us, God’s mercy and compassion is for everyone. God’s kingdom’s rules of fair and unfair are far beyond human rules.  

The entire book of Jonah is a parable, told for a point, for a reason, for a revelation about God’s character. Biblical scholar John Dominic Crossan has said that when a parable engages us, we are confronted by the insight it reveals. We find ourselves face-to-face with the Kingdom of God and we are challenged with a new understanding of ourselves.   Instead of explaining the parable, the parable explains us.  Our meeting with the parable makes us find something new, lose something old and choose a new understanding.  We are brought to a decision about God, about others, about ourselves. One of the beautiful things about hearing these scriptures repeatedly is that often we hear new things. Our life circumstances filter the story for us and we often find a new insight from the same story.

Hear the words of the psalm again, “The Lord is gracious and full of compassion.” This is a point of entry for this scripture. As we hear about Jonah and his experience, can we see God’s compassion and grace in our own lives?
The same point of confrontation that Jonah faced in his conversations with God is also present in today’s gospel parable. 

Many people are hired to help in the vineyard at various times of the day. Those who were hired first were told they would receive a certain wage for their efforts. And at the end of the day, they were paid as promised. Those hired later were also paid and it was the same amount for their labor, even though they worked a shorter time. When we hear this parable, those of us who have been a part of labor organizations want to shout, this is not fair! God can’t do that! Let’s file a grievance! 

While we look for equity, we find generosity. Are we resentful of God’s generosity towards others?  As I said earlier, we are pleased that God is merciful towards us, should we take exception when God treats others in the same way? These parables, as do all good parables, challenge us with our attitudes and misconceptions about God and his view of the world. While humans often separate the world into winners and losers, superior and inferior, insider and outsider. God does not. 

The question raised by both stories is, “Can we learn to see others through God’s eyes?” We are challenged to become more Christ-like in our thinking and in our actions towards others.

There is a lot of unfairness in this life.  There are many opportunities to live in resentment about what we do not have or did not receive.  In this morning’s gospel we are reminded of the psalmist’s words.  Rather than God being unfair we are moved beyond fairness to see that the Lord is gracious and full of compassion, slow to anger and of great kindness. God is lavish, God is extravagant, God is generous and giving of his abundant love to all. And what a great blessing it is to be included in His work, whether we are part of those who were chosen first or part of those who came later.  What a blessing it is to have received God’s mercy and love! 

Today’s scriptures invite us into the stories, perhaps to see ourselves in similar situations and to think about how we might meet the stories using God’s eyes. As we are drawn into the stories, we have the opportunity to realize how like Jonah and how like the vineyard workers we are. We too have been blessed by God’s love.

What peace that knowledge brings!

We glean the message of God’s kingdom through these stories. However, It does not stop here. It is not just about us. Rather we deepen our knowledge for the purpose of sharing it with others.

The purpose of spending time with God’s stories is twofold, to grow in our recognition of God’s love so that we may see with God’s eyes, and then to bring the knowledge and love of God to others.   

I ask you to remember two psalm verses this week which capture the meaning of the lessons today. Each of these verses has a visual reminder in our Sunday services. The first is the small cross carried in by the children at the time of the peace and the second is the large cross that leads the procession. 

The small cross: “One generation shall laud your works to another and shall declare your mighty acts.”

The large cross: “The Lord is gracious and full of compassion, slow to anger and of great kindness.”

“Do you talk to ants?” In Christopher Nolan’s film The Odyssey, Odysseus utters this phrase after he and his men discover that the Cyclops can talk. They have just spent days in his cave. The Cyclops has been eating them one-by-one, and they have finally found a way to escape: they blind him while he is sleeping, and plan to sneak out, disguised as sheep. 

After they have wounded him, but before they leave, they discover the Cyclops can talk when he prays. He calls on his Father, Poseidon, for vengeance. But he does not talk to them. “Why not?” says one of the soldiers. 

Odysseus replies, “Do you talk to ants?”

In this vision of the universe and human nature, there is a hierarchy. Some are on top; others are on the bottom; and there is little converse between the two. Up in the heaven are the gods, monster or demigods are a little lower, and humans  are little creeping things, hardly worth the attention of their betters.

In our first reading tonight, Bildad the Shuhite articulates a similar theme, as he attempts to engage his friend Job, in the middle of his suffering. 

Dominion and fear are with God; he makes peace in his high heaven. Is there any number to his armies? Upon whom does his light not arise? How then can a mortal be righteous before God? How can one born of woman be pure? If even the moon is not bright and the stars are not pure in his sight, how much less a mortal, who is a maggot, and a human being, who is a worm!

Bildad and his friends are arguing with Job, trying to convince him that his sufferings are his own fault. His moral failures must be the reason. They even say repeatedly that God is not impressed with heavenly beings. Angels and spirits are charged with errors, the moon and the stars “are not pure.” And a human, like Job? He is a maggot, crawling in the garbage, a worm, wriggling in the dust of the earth. 

This is not an optimistic view of human nature or human dignity. But it was a common one in the ancient world. And it is voiced by Bildad precisely as a half-truth. Because Job is suffering innocently, declared by God to be blameless and upright, someone the angels & Satan should regard.

At the end of the story, God rebukes Job’s friends, saying, “You have not spoken of me what is right.”

Scripture’s view of human dignity is magnificent. It’s not all pessimism. You can read its pages and find yourself astonished at the denunciation of human sin, but it is also Scripture that declares us sharers in the divine image and “partakers of the divine nature.” 

The human calling is not to perish on the earth like an ant, a maggot, or a worm, nor to be crushed by higher powers. The human calling is to live with God and the angels in a life of perfect praise. The Lord knows we are fragile, “short of days,” blown like the dust before the wind or wilting “like a flower of the field.” But we are called to share in God’s eternity.

In our second lesson, John looks and sees Jesus, the Lamb, standing on Mt Zion, but not alone.

With him were one hundred forty-four thousand who had his name and his Father’s name written on their foreheads. And I heard a voice from heaven like the sound of many waters and like the sound of loud thunder; the voice I heard was like the sound of harpists playing on their harps, and they sing a new song before the throne and before the four living creatures and before the elders.

John sees Jesus surrounded by singers, musicians, a thunderous ensemble of human redemption, causing wave upon wave of song to crash upon the shores of heaven; human beings drawn out to follow the Lamb, to offer priestly praises in the celestial courts, to rest from their labors. 

Humans are not maggots or worms. They are meant to be friends with angels, and their art and skill is to be employed in the service of heaven. 

Music is not frivolous. I had a friend in Oxford, a composer, who would get a little irritated when people asked him about the purpose of music. Why should someone study music? Why should someone join a choir? Why should someone attend Evensong? 

He found this baffling – his art moved through him so constantly that he could no more imagine living without music as a fish could live without water. He would sometimes make arguments about the benefits of music when people asked him, but it wasn’t something he liked to talk about. Music was life to him. He wanted to compose, to perform, to play or conduct, to worship with his art. 

I saw him happiest when we went to Pontigny Abbey, a grand Romanesque church in Burgundy, built to hold thousands of worshippers. There, the echo of a human voice can last a full 14 seconds. Singing polyphony there is like entering the gates of heaven, to hear angelic music, the sound of many waters, the sound of thunder, the sounds we human were born to hear and to make, the sounds we have made on earth and in heaven.

We discover things in our art and in our music that we could never experience otherwise. We take up a Psalm, and find ourselves sharing the words of saints. We find ourselves standing with Mary and Simeon, as they sing their canticles. We share in the prayers of Jesus, who sang Psalms before he was betrayed, and who sings now upon his throne. We learn to sing in the Church with joy, knowing we have been redeemed and that our lives have been woven into greater realities.

This is the truth of our worship, and I hope you have experienced it tonight at Choral Evensong. 

As you go home, I hope our songs and their words re-echo in your mind. “Let every instrument be tuned for praise; let all rejoice who have a voice to raise; and may God give us faith to sing always, Alleluia!”

Sing with Mary a song of mercy, a song of the Lord who exalts the humble. Sing with Simeon a song of light and rest. Sing with the Psalmist, praising the Lord who forgiveth sins, healeth infirmities, and saveth thy life from destruction.  

Sing – and remember the high calling God has granted us. We were not made for dust and ashes. We are not maggots, worms, mere ants. We were made for heaven’s glories; we have been redeemed, that we might shine with stars.