Reflection on the readings for the 4 October, the 18th Sunday after Trinity
Readings: Isaiah 5:1-7; Matthew 21:33-end
Today’s reflection is by the Vicar, the Revd Canon Jonathan Cain. This was preached on the occasion of the baptism of Bryony Boardman, aged 9.
Where did it all go wrong?
Where did it all go wrong?
This question arises whenever people try to make sense of the world. In the UK just now we see this question arising in conversations about housing, about the cost of living, about the way public things became private things. We hear it in the frustration of people who feel the world has slipped out of shape. Where did it all go wrong?
Matthew’s first hearers asked the same question. Their Temple—God’s house, the centre of their life—had been destroyed. Their whole world had cracked. And into that cracked world Jesus speaks a story about a vineyard, a landowner, and some tenants who have forgotten who they are.
Jesus answers the question not with a lecture but with a story.
It is a story told with extreme language, almost exaggerated on purpose. Jesus wants us to feel the shock of it. He wants us to see something about God, something about ourselves, and something about the world we are trying to live in.
He begins with the story care. The landowner plants a vineyard with attention and love. He digs the soil, removes the stones, plants good vines, builds a watchtower, and sets up everything needed for the vineyard to flourish. Nothing is missing. Nothing is half‑done. The vineyard is ready for fruit.
This is Jesus’ way of saying: God has already given us everything we need. The world is not empty of God’s gifts. Our lives are not empty of God’s gifts. The vineyard is ready. The soil is rich. The vines are good.
Then comes the shock. When harvest time arrives, the tenants refuse to give the landowner what belongs to him. They beat the servants. They kill some of them. They act as if the vineyard is theirs, as if the landowner has no claim on them at all.
And yet—this is the astonishing part—the landowner keeps sending more servants. He keeps giving them another chance. He does not storm in with soldiers. He does not tear the vineyard down or reclaim it by force. He perseveres.
Finally, he sends his son. And the tenants take the son outside the vineyard and kill him too. It is meant to make us gasp in horror.
Traditionally, this parable is read in the following way: the landowner is God, the vineyard is Israel, the tenants are the chief priests and Pharisees, the servants are the prophets, like Isaiah, who offered warnings, and the son is Jesus. And this all tracks with the grain of scripture. But Jesus is doing more than pointing fingers at religious leaders from 2000 years ago.
He is inviting us to read ourselves into the story.
The conflict arises because the tenants are confused about ownership. They take for themselves what rightly belongs to the landowner. They act as if the vineyard is theirs, as if the fruit is theirs, as if the future is theirs.
And we know this confusion when we hear the voice inside us that says:
“It’s my life to live. I make my own decisions. I’ll choose the obligations I wish to fulfil.”
We know the temptation to treat our lives, our gifts, our time, our relationships, our world as if they belong only to us. As if God has no claim on them. As if we are the owners rather than the tenants.
But Jesus tells this story to remind us: everything is gift. Life is gift. Faith is gift. Hope is gift. The chance to begin again is gift. The chance to love others is gift. The chance to be loved is gift.
And when we reject Jesus—when we turn away, when we forget, when we try to own what is not ours—God does not give up on the relationship. This is the humbling truth at the heart of the cross and resurrection: Jesus stands in the vineyard still, offering mercy, offering new beginnings, offering himself.
This truth is articulated when Jesus’ hearers anticipate judgement, and Jesus says: “The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.”
It may seem out of place for Jesus to switch metaphor and to talk about building in the middle of a vineyard, but it is not. Here is the promise of new life erupting in the middle of brutal rejection. Here is the exceeding greatness of God overcoming all refusal. Here is the redemptive chance for wicked tenants to become faithful builders.
And today, as we baptise Bryony, this story becomes more than ancient history—it becomes a living invitation.
Baptism is a turning away from all that would lead us astray and a turning toward Jesus who leads us into life. In baptism we say: “I will not live as if everything belongs to me.” “I will not pretend I am the owner of the vineyard.” “I will trust the God who gives gifts.” “I will follow Jesus, who is alive and present.”
In her baptism this morning, Bryony begins a life shaped by the generosity of God. And baptism calls Bryony—and all who are baptised—to respond to that generosity by being a tenant who remembers the vineyard is God’s; a builder who knows the cornerstone is Christ; a disciple who understands that love is meant to be received and given away.
So we return to the question: where did it all go wrong?
It all goes wrong whenever people forget that the vineyard is God’s. It all goes wrong whenever people take what is not theirs. It all goes wrong whenever any of us forget that life is gift.
But Jesus does not end the story with despair. He ends it with hope: rejected stones become cornerstones. Broken people become builders. Lost tenants become faithful stewards.
And that is why Bryony’s baptism matters. It is a sign that God is still planting vineyards. God is still giving gifts. God is still building a world where mercy is stronger than rejection. God is still raising up people who will live for others.
And so the final word is not duty. It is praise. It is wonder. It is joy.
Blessed be God, the giver of every good gift, whose mercy never ends, whose patience never fails, and whose Son Jesus is the cornerstone of a world made new.
Amen.