Grapes of Wrath: Withered Love Songs
By Caroline Dean
August 18, 2013
Isaiah 5: 1-7
[ Audio
(mp3, 7.1Mb) ]
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A reading from Isaiah 5:1-7:
Let me sing a song for my
beloved my love-song concerning his vineyard:
My
beloved had a vineyard on a very fertile hill. He dug it and cleared it of stones, and
planted it with the choice vines; he built a watchtower in the midst of it,
and hewed out a wine vat in it; he expected it to yield grapes, but it
yielded wild grapes.
And
now inhabitants of Jerusalem and people of Judah, judge between me and my
vineyard. What more was there for me to
do for my vineyard that I have not done in it? When I expected it to yield grapes why did
it yield wild sour grapes?
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. I will make it a waste; it shall not be
pruned or hoed, and it shall be overgrown with briers and thorns; that they
rain no rain upon it.
For
the vineyard of the Lord of hosts is the house of Israel, and the people of
Judah are his pleasant planting; God expected justice but saw bloodshed; God
expected righteousness but heard a cry!
* * * *
Let us pray:
God of Love who aches for us
to be agents of love and justice in the world – forgive us when we are
unresponsive and fill us with power and creativity to grow and to serve we
pray – by the power of your spirit and in the name of your son we pray –
Amen.
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is story begins with a bit of false advertising. We are under the impression that this is a “love song” for a beloved about a vineyard. A love song about a vineyard – it's like a romantic-comedy fanatic's dream come true! And even for those who aren't into romantic movies - who doesn't appreciate the combination of love, natural beauty and a good glass of wine! Either way the prophet sets us up for warm fuzzy feelings and a happy ending tied up with a nice bow.
And this is the Christian message
right – the story of God's steadfast love – that God loves us no matter what? Jesus rises from the dead three days
later. The prodigal son leaves the
pigpen and returns homes and the father throws a huge party. Those who are ignored are given a second
chance at life! God's love can overcome
any boundary. Neither death nor life nor
angels nor demons nor anything else in all of creation will be able to separate
us from the love of God in Christ Jesus – Amen! And these stories are beautiful and right and good and true. But – the story of the vineyard doesn't leave
us with a very happy ending.
The vine dresser labors and toils to
prepare the vineyard – digging up big deep stones, building towers, planting
the most choice vines. His blood sweat
and tears soak into the land. And this
is a labor of love and expectation. And
here is the twist we don't get a happy ending. In the end all he ends up with is acre upon acre of sour smelly
grapes. All of that hard work wasted,
gone, just like that. And C.S. Lewis
writes, “Anger is the fluid that love bleeds when you cut it.”
Let's just say this vintner isn't
feeling very warm and fuzzy. He throws a
tantrum wrecking the vineyard that he has so carefully tended for months on end. He tears down the wall allowing the wild
animals to have at it. He leaves briers
and wild vines to take over. He is hurt
and he is angry and he gives up.
We all know what disappointment
looks like. Lost dreams, broken
relationships, even daily ordinary disappointment are difficult to negotiate
with grace. This peculiar “love song” ends
with a devastated vineyard – a portrait of the deep pain of withered hopes and
dreams.
But why does the author choose a
tragic ending? I have to admit that I want
to choose a different ending. Like those
“choose your own adventure” books when there are multiple story lines and
multiple endings and the reader can choose between two or three options. I want an ending where the vineyard gets a
second chance. And a little vine sprouts
up in the spring, green and full of new life. And the vintner celebrates and finds a little glimpse of hope for the
future. But unfortunately, we get one
ending and it's a pretty depressing one.
The ending explains that the
vineyard is a metaphor that represents the people of Judah, and Israel. The author says that the owner of the
vineyard is God. And that God plants in
us seeds of love and hope expecting fruit of justice and righteousness. And instead of finding a beautiful crop, God
finds bloodshed and God hears the cries of the most vulnerable. This is in the end a story about social
injustice and our numbness and unresponsiveness to it.
Isaiah is a prophet – and prophet
in Hebrew tradition doesn't “tell the future.” A prophet's job is to speak hard realities in the present. In the Hebrew Bible or the Old Testament, a
prophet is an intermediary for God – speaking from God to the people of Israel
and speaking on behalf of the people to God. They often speak of social justice, righteousness and judgment.
You see when you have a prophet –
you usually have a tough message and a tough audience. Think about global warming – it's such a
massive problem – what are we supposed to do about it? And it's so much more convenient just to not
think about it! We can get numb to painful
realities because they are “inconvenient truths.” And we can be numb to painful realities
because the problems can be so overwhelming and we feel like we have no power
over them – world hunger, global warming, war, oppression – the list goes on…
So Isaiah, in the midst of these
challenges, tells this story. He uses a
smart hook with the love story intro to capture our attention. And then he tells a nice little story that
actually sort of turns out to be a little uncomfortable because it taps into
our own feelings of disappointment and loss. And then the author lets this negative image hang in the air, with no
pretty bow to tie on it or happy little glimpse of hope. After I read this story I'm disturbed and I
want something more.
Oh and then I realize that this
story is actually about ME and US. And
not just about someone else. And then I
realize that it's about me and us in relation to a group of people are
neglected or oppressed. And I feel even
worse.
But here we have a pregnant moment
that has great potential. One option is
to shut down and numb ourselves from the pain or uncomfortable feelings – vegging out on our phone or hiding in busyness.
But the other option is to let this
story bother us. You see the problem
with the vineyard is that it is unresponsive to God's love. It is numb to the reality of the care and
attention it has received. And we too
are numb. Brene'
Brown a social scientist and a current obsession of mine talks about how we are
the most “addicted, prescribed, obese, busy, disconnected adult cohort in human
history.” And I think that she is
right. We use these unhealthy strategies
to cope with negative emotions, with lost dreams, and brokenness in our lives.
But when we feel pain it usually
means that we should pay attention. Let's
say you step on a shell in Nicaragua in the ocean and injure your foot, and the
pain doesn't register for some reason and so you continue frolicking in the
ocean. You can easily injure it further
or cause an infection if you don't attend to the pain. This is what it is like to turn off our souls
to the cries and bloodshed in ourselves, our own communities and around the
world. We numb ourselves and ignore a
huge opportunity for healing, growth and connection.
Sometimes we need shocking stories
to wake us up from our numb state. Sometimes we need pain to lead us to growth. Because when we see our own pain then we can
“sit in the dark with the pain of others” (Pema Chodron's definition of compassion). And in the dark we
realize that we are all interconnected.
And this sacred and mysterious
process of dealing with gut-wrenching realities most certainly comes to the
forefront of my heart and mind because we have just returned from Nicaragua
with six high school students and five adults.
And my instinct is initially to
compare the wasted vineyard and the sour grapes to the extreme poverty in
Nicaragua. A part of me wants to call us
to acknowledge how our consumerism and insulated wealth is connected to the
pain and suffering of the Nicaraguan people. And I want to say – what can we do to stop this cycle of suffering! We have to do something!
But another part of me wants to
switch the parable around again and say that during our time there – our
Nicaraguan friends and partners – who deal with the harsh painful realities of
extreme poverty – planted seeds of an abundant harvest in us. We also planted seeds of hope and we did
listen to their cries of pain but in my experience learning from the faith and
hope of our friends and partners in Nicaragua is the most overwhelming part of
the trip.
When we work with Inhijambia – a
community who reaches out to kids who live on the streets in extreme
poverty. We witnessed their unconditional
and persistent love for children who are often addicted to glue, consumed by cycles
violence, and fighting for every meal. I
realized that two beautiful siblings, Rosita and her brother Miguel – they are
like the fertile soil that the vineyard is planted on. They have an innate spark of life – they live
next to the dump in the market in extreme poverty – their parents struggle with
addiction. And yet, they are brilliant,
they take initiative and they have found life saving resources. Mirna – the director and founder of
Inhijambia calls them “flowers in the desert.” Rosita and Miguel planted seeds of hope in our team – hope that can
overcome great odds.
Inhijambia's promotors and promotoras – the
adult staff – many whom have been through the program themselves - do the hard
grueling work of digging up the stones and boulders in the lives of street kids
to help them move forward. They show up
on the streets and learn about them and their families. They earn trust and respect. And one day they invite them to join the Ihijambia community leaving the violence, addiction, and
sometimes a bad relationship or two behind. And this work is utterly miraculous – it is the unconditional and
relentless love of God. Because for
every kid they gather under their wing there are two or three who cannot make
it, and one who wavers back and forth and back and forth and still back again. And yet they show up every day. These mentors and heroes planted seeds of courage
and steadfast love in us – the kind of love that doesn't give up despite the
odds.
And then it is a joy to see how Ihijambia plants choice vines and talents and dreams in their
students. You should see them sing, in
harmony, in Russian, in French, in English, with spirit and pride. To see their art, their
dance, their passions. To see their hopes and dreams and joys and friendships. These beautiful smiling faces planted joy and
gratitude in each of us – gratitude for the moments we share and gratitude for
our own passions and dreams.
And the watchtower of Inhijambia is
Mirna, a modern day ordinary saint. We
heard three girls' testimonies while we were there and Mirna explained that
this is part of the healing process for them to tell their story and for us to
respond in empathy. And one of the girls
who gave her testimony is Carla. She is
new to the program and has had trouble opening up, but she does confide in
Mirna. Mirna has provided a strong and
safe space for Carla to tell her story. Carla cried on Mirna's shoulder as she told us
of the pain of knowing her siblings are still struggling in abusive
situations. And we also heard from Karen
who was forced into washing car windows on the street and selling her mom's
tortillas. She would get beaten up if
she didn't sell enough tortillas in a day and so Mirna explained that they
decided to buy her tortillas for the Inhijambia kitchen and invite Karen into
the program. Mirna and her leadership team
planted seeds of commitment and radical love in us.
The painful and the gut-wrenching
moments on our trip are utterly important because they wake us up! They make us pay attention! And when we are paying attention you cannot
help but noticed how connected we all are.
So when you face harsh truths that
are overwhelming and tempt you to shut down – find a way to connect, find a way
to let the pain teach you and mold you. Because if we ignore the sour grapes, the cries and bloodshed, we will
never know the joy of a beautiful harvest – the joy of God's love, of justice
and righteousness, of hope. So if your
guts are wrenched – pay attention! What
is that pain connecting you to? And what
can you do about it?
