Jesus’ journey has at last brought him to Jerusalem. Daily he teaches in the Temple courtyard where disciples would gather around their various rabbis to hear the word of God interpreted, listen to stories, and debate. It soon becomes apparent that Jesus’ stories have an edge to them. People gather around him, some hoping for a heated debate, some to hang him up in something heretical.
“Once upon a time, . . . ” Jesus begins, and a story unfolds that, like a bad TV show, is laced with murder and mayhem, the tenants so obviously crooks, the landlord so obviously innocent that when Jesus asks his listeners what the owner should do, they are unanimous: Throw the bums out.
“Once upon a time,” the prophet Nathan had said, “a rich man stole, slaughtered, and ate a poor man’s favorite pet lamb.” “Oh,” cried King David, “that’s awful! He should pay dearly for that.” Nathan looked at the king—who had just taken Uriah’s wife as his own and arranged for Uriah to die in battle and said, “You are the man.” (See 2 Samuel 12.)
But Jesus tells his story in a more direct fashion. “You,” he says to the scribes and Pharisees, “have forgotten who owns the vineyard.”
I sometimes wonder if I am not a Pharisee. I find it hard not to think of my faith as a possession. I catch myself thinking of my church, my sanctuary, my pew, my beliefs.
What a relief to know that nobody owns God’s creation or our faith in God’s purposes. It all belongs to God alone and comes to us by God’s grace. And that means I am free to follow Jesus, even to Jerusalem, even to a cross.