The subtitle of today’s gospel might be “Here endeth the pop quizzes.” We’ve heard the authorities grilling Jesus over the readings of the past few weeks with all kinds of trick question … now they dared not ask him anything else. Today the final quiz question: “Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?” Jesus’ response was both typical and not. He begins his response in a predictable way: “‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment.” He begins by quoting the Shema from Deuteronomy 6 – “Hear, O Israel: The LORD is our God, the LORD alone. You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might.” But then he says there is a second commandment – to love your neighbor as you love yourself. Here, Jesus paraphrases Leviticus 19 which in its entirety states: “You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against any of your people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself: I am the LORD.” He then tells the Pharisees everything, the law and the prophets, depends upon these two commandments.

Jesus’ juxtaposition of Leviticus 19 and the Shema is profound. The Pharisees who heard the Leviticus portion in that moment would have known the entire passage, not just the portion Jesus quoted. Our Rite 1 liturgy includes the Summary of the Law, yet most of us fail to realize what precedes “love your neighbor as you love yourself” – “You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against any of your people.” Jesus’ teaching on prayer echoes this: “forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.”

In Sister Joan Chittister’s book The Rule of Benedict: A Spirituality for the 21st Century, she offers a daily reading of the Rule of St. Benedict and her commentary on it. Benedict of Nursia lived in the late 5th century in Italy and set down a rule for living in community in the last days of the Roman Empire. We Anglicans have a close connection with St. Benedict. Benedictine monastic communities were very influential in pre-Reformation England and their influence continues even today. St. Benedict was very clear that our spiritual life was to be lived out in community – we were not to flee to the desert or hole up somewhere. We are to live in community and to worship God through communal prayer (which influenced the development of our Book of Common Prayer), scripture recitation (as most people could not read back then), and the sacramental life.

Part of Benedict’s rule was the idea that the monastery you entered would be the monastery in which you died and to always keep death before you as a solemn reminder of the importance of forgiveness and reconciliation. Benedict knew that living in community is hard – disagreements are bound to happen, other people will annoy you and you will annoy other people. Benedict, in his wisdom, knew that if you had a disagreement someone, our human tendency is to “cut and run” – to leave the community or relationship and find another one. Benedict, with no modern knowledge of family systems or psychology, knew if you left the monastery without having reconciled with your fellow monks or nuns, invariably you would go to another monastery and … lo and behold … have another disagreement with a monk or nun there … usually over similar issues which drove you from the prior monastery! History repeats itself, behavior replicates itself and there is no reconciliation or opportunity for spiritual growth when we run away. Running away does not produce spiritual depth – it keeps you spiritually stunted and immature. We can act pious and holy all we want, but unless we do the hard work of reconciliation then our faith is a sham. And reconciliation is hard work involving contrition (genuinely understanding the damage you have done and feeling sorry for your actions), confession (admitting your wrongdoing), repentance (taking action to turn away from what you have done) and amendment of life (making the changes necessary so that you don’t repeat the harm done to others). Christianity is a demanding faith! Merely acting pious isn’t what our faith is about. As Sister Joan writes: “It is so comforting to multiply the practices of the church in our life and so inconvenient to have to meet the responsibilities of the communities in which we live.”

Living in community with other people is hard. It’s easy to say we love our neighbors in the abstract – it is much harder to put it into practice. In fact, I think Jesus’ command to love our enemies is often easier. We often push enemies away and keep them out of our lives. It’s easy to love in the abstract at arm’s length. It is much harder to love up close where we hurt each other in real and tangible ways. Loving our neighbor – our next door neighbor (whose dog barks incessantly and who won’t do anything about it), or members of our congregation (who don’t see things my way or just bug me), or community leaders (who don’t listen to my concerns), or your priest (who just doesn’t get it) … it’s hard, isn’t it? In each case what makes it hard is the pride of our own small egos which seek the self rather than the good of the other. Letting go of the ego is the way of the cross.

As Episcopalians, we inherit this Anglican/Benedictine way of being in community. Being in community means loving God and neighbor – which by extension means letting go of the need for right fighting, vengeance and holding grudges. It is a way of spiritual transformation which calls us into becoming more Christ-like – into becoming spiritual adults. As Sr. Joan states, “Adulthood is not a matter of becoming completely independent of the people who lay claim to our lives. Adulthood is a matter of being completely open to the insights that come to us from our superiors and our spouses, our children and our friends, so that we can become more than we can even begin to imagine for ourselves.” This is the transforming power of God – and it comes to us through our neighbors who are up close and in our face.

But are there neighbors with whom being in a relationship is not possible? What about those who threaten or abuse us? What about those who threaten the community? Well, neither Jesus nor Benedict would have condoned any behavior for the sake of loving your neighbor. Loving your neighbor is not the same as indulging your neighbor’s abuse. There are behaviors people inflict on us as individuals and the community which go beyond annoyances and simple grievances. Abuse, violence and threats are behaviors which cannot be tolerated for the sake of maintaining relationship. While we can reject specific behaviors and call those who threaten and abuse to repentance, they may not respond to that call. This does not mean we cannot love them – but we may need to do so from a safe distance unless and until they can do the hard work of amending their lives and actively seeking reconciliation with us.

“You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against any of your people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself …” Holding and bearing grudges prevents us from being the loving people God has shaped us to be. We cannot love God and harbor hatred for the people God loves. We cannot presume that our dislike or even hatred of another person is how God feels about them. Loving God with all our heart, soul, mind and strength only comes with the spiritual gift of humility to love the very people God loves too. Remember, while there are people you know who seem very unlovable … there are people who feel the same way about you. None of us is lovable all the time.

It is into this reality where grace enters. As St. Paul reminds us in Romans 5:8: “God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us.” When we are at our worst and most unlovable, God comes to us. That radical, undeserved, unmerited love has the power to move our hearts to love our neighbors … even the ones hardest to love. This isn’t easy work – Jesus knew that, Benedict knew that and you know it too. But we undertake it, quite imperfectly to be sure, because in doing so we experience grace, mercy and healing in action not abstraction. Laying down our egos, our long nurtured grudges, self-righteous anger and resentments, and seeking the way of love is the way of the cross through which we find fullness of life in Christ.

The plot thickens! Matthew’s gospel opens today with ominous words: “The Pharisees went and plotted to entrap Jesus in what he said.” Can’t you just feel the hostility? And don’t you just love the flattery that opens this up: “Teacher, we know that you are sincere, and teach the way of God in accordance with truth, and show deference to no one; for you do not regard people with partiality.” Last week, our vestry had a mutual ministry survey with Dan Webster and we watched a video of Rabbi Edwin Friedman. He was talking about self-differentiated leadership and having a non-anxious presence. In that context, he spoke about sabotage. He said it comes in two forms: passive-aggressive attacks or seduction. Seems the Pharisees and Herodians are taking the second approach here.

What we often lose in the translation of time and culture is that the Pharisees and the Herodians really hated each other. The Herodians were the extended members of King Herod’s family whom the Pharisees and observant Jews likened to traitors. They were Jewish converts and were skilled at playing both sides of the field – loyalty to Rome when it suited them and loyalty to the Torah when necessary. The Pharisees, in their quest for purity, preferred to avoid the Herodians at all costs. But … politics and religion have always made strange bedfellows!

So these two camps, generally representing Rome and the Jewish people, are now out to ensnare Jesus in one of the most controversial issues of the day: is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor or not? Again, in our current culture and context we just cannot wrap our heads around why this is such a big deal. Nobody likes paying their taxes … but you do it right? Well, of course you do; however, in ancient Rome paying taxes was more than just paying for the roads and the aqueducts. It had a deep religious significance that we don’t normally associate with taxes. The Roman emperor was thought to be an incarnate god and so was to be worshipped among the pantheon of gods. In the eyes of a Jew, to pay taxes to Rome was to support a false religion in violation of the first commandment to have no other gods before the God of Israel. Having coins with Caesar’s image on them was a violation of the second commandment prohibiting graven images. Framing this question as to whether it is “lawful” brings the forces of Torah law to bear. Answer “yes” and you’ve violated Torah so the Pharisees have you on blasphemy. Answer “no” and the Herodians have you on treason. This is the ultimate loaded question!

Jesus, with the crowd around him, sees this sabotage by seduction ploy for what it is! He calls them out as hypocrites and asks for a coin. You can imagine just a bit of irony here when he gets the denarius and examines it closely. “So, whose face is this?” “The emperor’s.” “OK … give it back to him … and give to God what is God’s.” I can imagine the crowd snickering at the elites and religious guys getting their comeuppance.

When we hear the phrase, “render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s and to God the things which are God’s” it is tempting to start parsing out what belongs to Caesar versus God. The problem with that is we miss that Jesus is actually using a false dichotomy to flip the question of the Pharisees and the Herodians on its head. He’s really addressing their hypocrisy in this response, not making a statement on where our money should be directed … and here’s why. As a Jew, Jesus believes in the sovereignty of the God of Israel and that there is no distinction between what is of this world and what is of God. After all, God created the world and all that is in it, right? And God, the God of Israel, even created the emperor … right? So what exactly belongs to Caesar and not to God? That’s right … nothing! Absolutely nothing!! It all belongs to God no exceptions.

With this in mind, there are implications for our own stewardship. What if we really lived like absolutely everything belonged to God? Not just our money or possessions, but our bodies, our thoughts, our creative energies and impulses – absolutely everything belonging to God and what has been given is on loan to us temporarily. How would that concept change you? Let me give you a practical example. From time to time, we have to buy a car. Not my favorite activity, I confess, and there are a myriad of options out there. While I can go into debt and purchase a fancy car with all kinds of “bells and whistles.” If I forget that all things belong to God first, I could get caught up in the idea that I can purchase whatever I want just because I want to. This is the mentality of a consumer rather than one centered on God. But when I acknowledge that everything, absolutely everything, comes from God and is only on loan to me, then my duty is to make as light a footprint on the planet and on my finances as I can. No question this will influence my purchase decision.

Stewardship also has implications on our own bodies. If they are on loan from God, how should we take care of them? If my intellect is on loan from God, how do I use it to build up the Body of Christ? If I am engaging in habits that hurt my body or mind, how does this grieve God and how can I commit to change? How do I use my time and where am I giving it to God’s mission – both in the Church and in the world?

Keeping our focus on the reality that God is the source and author of all that we have and all that we are reminds us to place our commitment to God first. This doesn’t mean we don’t “render unto Caesar” … but it does call us to question all the “Caesars” which try to claim our time, energy, and money. If we think about it, we live in a society where there are a myriad of activities and causes which can fill our schedules and cause us to forget our commitment to God. Busyness is a temptation which will present many “Caesars” which will try to claim us. But when we keep our eye on God first and commit to that relationship before all others, it puts us in a position to evaluate all other commitments and prioritize them so they don’t become tyrants which enslave us.

In baptism, we are claimed as Christ’s own forever. Our gratitude for this new life can transform us into people who put God first and, in so doing, find the joy of a life centered in God. Render unto God … first and foremost … and Caesar will take care of itself.

I have a confession on behalf of my clergy colleagues to make. Most of us really don’t like doing weddings very much. Now there are exceptions, and I’m really looking forward to Nancy Smith & Dale Hughes’ upcoming wedding in November … and I’m not saying that to suck up either. The reason I’m looking forward to that one while many others invoke dread, is because Nancy and Dale are both grounded in what it means to be married in an Episcopal Church where Christ is the central focus of the nuptial liturgy. The same was true for the solemnization service I presided over for Mike & Michael last year in their home. When people who have a strong root in the Christian faith come to the Church seeking its blessing for their marriage, there is a totally different dynamic from those who have no faith grounding and who for mostly sentimental reasons feel they have to get married in a church. The latter often do not understand that getting married in a church is not about living out the “prince and princess of the day” fantasy … which often comes into conflict with the church’s theology of marriage as an incarnation of Christ’s love made known in the world. These brides and grooms (and often their parents) want to do things their way and really have no intention of having God play much, if any, role in the matter whatsoever. So this presents a particular challenge for me as a priest because while we are warm, welcoming and hospitable, that doesn’t mean “anything goes” in the Church.

Today’s gospel reading is set within the context of a wedding banquet and admittedly is a difficult reading full of judgment – and some annihilation, death and burning of a city. But I will submit to you that it is a story full of grace – even though it doesn’t sound like one. It is a story about a king who wants to throw an awesome party … and it is an illustration of how grace is offered and also what it demands of us. This parable follows on last week’s and is still directed at the Pharisees during Holy Week. Its parallel is in the Gospel of Luke, but unlike Luke whose telling of this has a much more grace filled tone, Matthew’s rendering has ominous warnings of judgment and violence along with the grace. There is again a temptation to allegorize this as a story of Israel being the invited guests who blow off the king’s invitation and the Gentiles as the “great unwashed masses” who are brought into the party and accept the invitation. But that is a narrow view which limits the parable’s meaning to some kind of Gentile/Jewish conflict which robs it of its power for our day and time.

In his book Kingdom, Grace and Judgment, the late Robert Farrar Capon, Episcopal priest and author, invites us to see this parable as a reflection of the final marriage supper of the Lamb which John writes about in Revelation and in so doing it begins with the premise that all are invited to the banquet. That’s right … all are invited to the party. The question is whether or not we will say “yes” to the gracious host. The first group invited are the “A listers” – the beautiful people who can essentially take it or leave it … and who, well, choose the latter. Not only do they completely rebuff the king’s invitation to an awesome party, they have really lame excuses for rejecting the king’s hospitality. And notice they get more than one chance to accept the invitation – there are two rounds of slaves come as messengers. With the second round of invites, those invited become violent – beating and killing the slaves. Admittedly, this is a pretty harsh reaction to a party invitation, but this is a story and it is a continuation of the “kill the messenger” motif we saw in last week’s story.

As I reflected on the reaction of these “A-lister” invited to the party, I recalled meeting Pastor Mike Albro in Frederick a few years ago when I was a member at All Saints. Last I heard, he is still running the Second & Hope Celebrate Recovery group at Centennial United Methodist Church. When I met him, he was with the Rescue Mission working with those suffering from drug and alcohol addiction. But I knew of Mike Albro many years before that. I knew of Mike back in 1986 when I was involved in the Race Across America bicycle race. Back then, Mike was the executive director of ABC’s Wide World of Sports who was covering the race. Mike was one of those “A-listers” – a guy with a Hollywood job and a seven figure salary. But one night, in a hotel room in Nashville, he had a conversion and call to serve Christ – like St. Paul being knocked off his horse on the Damascus road. He left that very lucrative position to follow God’s call to ministry … and of all ministries, to those suffering from addiction. In his own addiction to wealth, fame and power, he saw his connection to those who suffered under the addictions of drugs and alcohol. When he spoke at All Saints, he said something that really got my attention. He said, “You all have a much harder job of sharing the good news of Jesus Christ than I do. You see, I work with people who have nothing left but Jesus. They have lost everything – family, home, jobs, health … they’ve lost it all and all they have left is Jesus. They know they need Jesus in order to life a sober life. They have no illusions that they are sober because of anything they did – they know they can’t do it without God. But you have a much harder job sharing the gospel in your lives with your neighbors. You have to try and share the good news with people who live in big houses, with two or three cars in the garage, big screen TVs and all the comforts of life, and good paying jobs. Those people think all those blessings only came from their own personal efforts – what do they need Jesus for? Your job is much harder than mine.” And he’s right … our job is much harder. Many of us bear a strong resemblance to those “A-listers” … those who think they really don’t need the king’s invitation to grace. Under the hashtag of #firstworldproblems, we can fall under the presumption that all that we are and all that we have comes from us and not from God. We fail to see that all of what we are and have, including our intellect and talents, are gracious gifts from God who is the king and ultimate party thrower. So we too can be like the A-listers who just don’t see any real reason to accept the king’s invitation into relationship and a great party. We are tempted to blow the whole thing off too.

Sometimes we blow off the invitation by killing the messengers (which happens in today’s parable). I don’t want to be bothered, leave me alone, get out of my face. Whether we physically kill them or do it emotionally through our words and actions matters not. In the parable, this is an outrage the king will not bear – so he sends in the SWAT team to wipe the A-listers off the map (think Chuck Norris meets Dirty Harry meets napalm … and a small nuclear strike thrown in for good measure). Seems a pretty harsh reaction, doesn’t it? Again, let’s see this as a metaphor of cutting off relationship completely with those who blow off the invitation and go so far as to kill the messengers. The king is severing ties with them, not because he is a ruthless punishing king, but as a reaction and consequence to the abusive actions already taken against him. You know this reaction … it’s the “You’re dead to me!” one. And in essence, the “A-listers” do kill themselves by their own choice to say “no” to grace.

So now the king has a problem. There’s a lot of food and drink, a party waiting to happen, and nobody’s coming! The king orders his slaves to go out and invite everyone they can and fill the banquet hall. So the slaves do this … and they invite both the good and the bad. Wait! Hold on! They invited both the “good and the bad?” Absolutely! The slaves as messengers were not tasked with asking for the pedigree of anyone they invited, they aren’t checking id’s at the door, they aren’t running background checks. Their job is to fill the banquet hall. Just as in other parables like the wheat and the weeds, Jesus makes it clear that good and bad will be living together and walking side by side for some time. It isn’t up to us to do the sorting – that’s God’s job. We just have to say “yes” to the invitation to the party.

But this is where our “yes” response to grace meets with an obligation … the obligation to accept the grace on the king’s terms and not our own. The story takes an ominous twist: the king notices a man without a wedding garment. Now in this short story, we might begin to argue with Jesus about the necessity of a wedding garment and 1,001 reasons why this poor fellow doesn’t have one. Let’s suffice it to say that this guy stuck out … and all the guests were in the same position. Everyone else, presumably, had their wedding garments, on … except this one guy. Somehow I picture him as the guy who shows up with a bunch of piercings, Goth make up, grommets in the ears, Doc Martens boots … among those in their “Sunday best.” Of course … it could be the other way around too! Let’s just say he sticks out like a sore thumb. Essentially, he said “yes” to showing up but the king asks for more than just showing up. I submit to you that the man without the appropriate attire lacked the humility to submit to the terms of the king’s party – show up, but show up on my terms not yours.

When we say “yes” to God’s invitation for relationship, one thing which must die for an authentic faith is our pride. Part of our pride is demanding that we live life on our terms and our terms alone. Doing that leads to selfish, destructive behavior which doesn’t make room for authentic relationships – with God or with any other human being. Grace is always offered, but a “yes” response doesn’t mean we get to continue to live life on our terms – we are called to more than that. We are called into a transforming, life giving, love relationship. God loves us where we are (that’s the grace), but God will not be satisfied to leave us there. Christ loves us enough to want more from us than to just stand still … and demands the relinquishment of our pride and demand for having our way instead of God’s way. The fact this person without a wedding garment was silent in the face of the king’s question says much – he didn’t want a relationship with the king. He gives the king the “silent treatment.” And so our parable ends with the king ordering him to be bound “hand and foot” and cast into the darkness with wailing and gnashing of teeth. While this sounds like a punishment from the king, I suggest this is merely the king allowing this person, who wants life on his own terms, to go back to the life they came from. It is a consequence of refusing to let go of pride.

So this parable is about the offering of grace and how we accept it … or not. Here at Grace Church, we welcome all people to come to the feast every Sunday: to be with God’s people and receive the Body and Blood of Christ at this altar which is a foretaste of the heavenly banquet in this parable. But although we welcome people into this community, it does not mean we do not set appropriate boundaries with respect to behaviors. The offer of grace comes with the expectation that those who come will not stay where they are, but say “yes” to both the grace and the ongoing conversion of heart which draws us to become more loving and Christ-like. When those who come want only the grace but refuse the transformation God expects, they are seeking cheap grace. And, when behaviors which threaten the peace of Christ in this community happen, those people who want cheap grace without transformation will be choosing by their refusal of the call to conversion of heart to walk apart from this community. German theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer reminds us that grace is never cheap – it is always costly. The cost of grace is the relinquishment of pride and ego so that we may enjoy the party … now and forever.

“Therefore I tell you, the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that produces the fruits of the kingdom.” Hardly sounds like good news, does it? Harsh words today in today’s Gospel reading – a troubling text which has a very dark history in Christianity. It follows on the reading from last week where the Pharisees are questioning Jesus’ authority and it is a continuation of his dialog with them. It’s a story that has sadly often been spun as an anti-Jewish polemic over the centuries – one where the temptation is to allegorize the wicked tenants as the Jewish people and the Christians as those to whom the landowner will give the vineyard where the vineyard is the inheritance of Israel. Nice neat package … good guys and bad guys, right? Well … not so fast.

It’s been an interesting week to ponder this story in light of what has been unfolding at the Episcopal Church’s oldest seminary – General Theological Seminary in New York City. For those of you who don’t monitor the Episcopal Church’s “insider baseball,” eight of the ten faculty walked off the job this week in protest against the current dean and president, The Very Rev. Kurt Dunkle. They have leveled allegations of his being overbearing and authoritarian in his leadership, bullying students and faculty who disagree with him and making racist, sexist and homophobic statements. In fairness to Dean Dunkle, many of the things which the faculty demanded of him and the Board of Directors were unprecedented and an overstepping of their roles as professors but which came after many months of requesting mediation and being rebuffed. In the end, Bishop Sisk of New York and the Board of General Seminary chose to interpret the actions of the professors as a mass resignation of the faculty. Now it’s all up to the lawyers…

I confess I really don’t have a dog in this fight. I went to the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Gettysburg and frankly it would be easier for me to blow off this kerfuffle and wait for the dust to settle and move on. You know, “Not my circus. Not my monkeys.” But the truth is that the scuffle at General is only bringing to light deeper problems and the shadow of what we hate to admit – that at various times, we ourselves are the wicked tenants in the vineyard!

One of the issues underlying this conflict at General is what authority looks like in a Christian context. This question of authority featured prominently in last week’s Gospel and raised the question of to whom do we give authority and why. Clearly, the dean and president of the seminary has authority conferred from the Bishop and Board to accept this position; however, it appears on the surface at least that Dean Dunkle forgot the other source of authority – that of the faculty and students. If the allegations of his unprofessional conduct regarding racist, sexist and homophobic statements are true, he could be tried in Ecclesiastical Court under Title IV of the Constitution and Canons for misconduct – for conduct unbecoming a cleric. If the allegations are true this could be why he has not earned the trust of the faculty and students. Without trust, there is no basis for authority. The alleged statements are not only unacceptable, but they fly in the face of the Baptismal Covenant where we promise to “seek and serve Christ is all persons” and “respect the dignity of every human being.”

From the words flying around social media, it seems that Dean Dunkle has perceived the resistance to his leadership in a very different way than the students and faculty have. It appears he interprets this resistance as a sign of his decisive leadership. After all, decisive leaders are going to be on the receiving end of push back and sabotage – so resistance is a sign he is doing something right … right? Well … maybe … and maybe not. It may just be a sign you are a jerk too. The line between jerk and decisive leader can, admittedly, get kind of cloudy and it’s easy to end up being a decisive jerk. The difference is whether you possess the spiritual gift of humility which will allow you to listen to the dissenting voices and the prophets God may be sending your way to help you see your own functioning more clearly than you can all by yourself.

What has been born out of all this conflict is the raising of old and deep wounds the Church itself has inflicted on its members – in this case, its own leadership. We can sit around and gloat when a megachurch pastor like Mark Driscoll gets taken down over his sexist and homophobic statements … but now that one of our own has now had some pretty damning allegations leveled at him for the same behavior, what are we to make of that?

Laurie Brock, a priest in Louisville KY who blogs at Dirty Sexy Ministry wrote a post entitled “I am not the exception” regarding the longstanding toleration of abusive racist, homophobic and misogynistic behaviors in the Church:

“When I wrote of my experience of institutional abuse in the church, I hoped, likely foolishly, that my experience was rare.

From the hundreds of emails, stories told in hallways with tears, and letters received from women and men in the church who have experienced degrading behavior and harassment, often by superiors, I can tell you I am not the exception.

I am not the exception to being offended when a male superior discussed my breasts or my vagina and, when expressing my offense, being told I was ‘too sensitive.’

I am not the exception to being encapsulated in an atmosphere where sexual orientation, ethnicity, income level, or any other differentiating facet was fodder for jokes, and any conversation as to why those words or phrases may be offensive was disregarded.

I am not the exception for expressing my discomfort and distress to those in authority, only to have my concerns be ignored, dismissed, excused, or turned back on me.

I am not the exception to feeling so weary, so exhausted, so emotionally beaten that when I finally said, ‘Enough,’ I realized I was the one who would slip out the back door with my scars, and the ones whose actions caused the wounds would never be held accountable.”

So what happens when we become the wicked tenants ourselves?

Don’t get me wrong … I love the Episcopal Church and in it I see the promise of refuge for many who have been beaten down in other places. But if we deny and ignore our own darkness and tendency to want to control and dominate, just like the wicked tenants in the parable who want to dominate and control the vineyard and its fruit, then we are culpable of perpetuating a cycle of violence and degradation which flies in the face of Christ’s call to humble service and generosity of spirit.

At varying times, we have all taken the path of protecting our egos and, rather than listening to those who may tell us things we don’t want to hear we kill the messenger. But what if the ones who challenge us, the ones who get under our skin, are being Christ to us? Remember, Jesus often encountered resistance when he put his finger on the spiritual and emotional diseases of others. Who in your life has touched a place of brokenness in you – not as an enemy who is trying to hurt you, but as a friend trying to offer you feedback? Are you open to hearing what they say? Or is killing the messenger to protect your ego, your false self, what happens?

The parable ends with the Pharisees condemning themselves by saying the landowner will put the “miserable wretches to death” and find more worthy tenants. While I don’t subscribe to a God who metes out punishment as is the human tendency, I do see consequences for the wicked tenants … even when they are us. When we fall into the trap of killing the messengers who may very well be bearing Christ’s presence and light to us when we don’t want to hear them, we die. We die at least spiritually and emotionally, if not physically. God doesn’t have to put us to death … instead we kill ourselves and in so doing, we deny the inheritance of the fullness of life offered in Christ in favor of our small, puny egos that demand control.

So what if we give up … give up the need to control and defend these small selves we carry? What if we stop killing the messengers God is sending to us and let them in to help us grow? Yes, it will be hard and yes it will feel like death … it always does when the ego gets stripped down to nothing. But maybe, just maybe, Christ is calling us to risk becoming something more than who we think we are … because underneath every wicked tenant is a beloved child of God aching to be born anew.