Nineteenth Pentecost, Proper 21, 2005:

A recently married young man came home from the office to find his young wife in a flood of tears.  “What could have happened?  Who died?" he thinks to himself.

“Darling, whatever is the matter?” he asks his sobbing bride.

“Sweetheart,” she sobs, “the most terrible thing happened!  I cooked my very first beef stroganoff for you, and I got it out of the oven to season it, and the phone rang.  Mother asked what I was doing and I told her and she said how proud she was of me.  When I got back from answering the phone,” her tears flowing more freely again, “I found that the cat had eaten it!”

“Don’t worry, darling,” said her husband.  “Don’t cry.  I’ll get you a new cat in the morning…” 

I attended the diocesan anti-racism training last weekend.  If you tell that story beyond the walls of St. John’s, I’ll be asked to attend a session to help me refrain from telling sexist jokes. 

I really only wanted to point out that the new husband had good intentions.  He was trying to be helpful and solve a problem.  People with good intentions generally want to be helpful. 

If the old Irish saying, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions,” is true, then I will arrive on a smooth four-lane highway.  I mean well, but I either run out of time or energy or both.  I plan to join Procrastinator’s Anonymous, but I can’t seem to get around to filling out the application form.

Shirley keeps a small magnet on the refrigerator at home that says, “The smallest deed is bigger than the greatest intention.”  I look at it almost every morning when I make the coffee.  It may well be true that the best definition of heaven is that place where words and deeds are in perfect agreement.

The Parable of the Father and His Two Sons, the Gospel for this Sunday, is about words and deeds and the danger of being of person of words only.  One of the purposes of this spiritual pilgrimage is to get our deeds to better match our words. 

As is always the case, the crucial questions are, 1) What is Jesus saying in this parable, and, 2) What does he wish us to learn from it? 

First, I think Jesus the Christ wants us to remember that we have our credentials for what we are asked to do.  Anytime someone does something at the bidding of another the question of authority comes up.  We have all the credentials we need in our baptism in his death and resurrection.  Our authority for going in his behalf as a minister of the Gospel comes not from education or ordination but from the authority we are given in baptism.  Our credentials are established by what we do and not from saying “Yes” and then not doing anything to strike a blow for the Kingdom of God.  Intentions alone mask and distort the cost of discipleship.  An occasional tip of the hat on Sunday or the flippant “Yes, sir,” knowing full well we have no intention of following through, denies the credentials we have been given.  Being sealed by the Holy Spirit in baptism and marked as Christ’s own forever calls us to live life on our tiptoes, ready to serve as directed.

We also have our companion for the journey.  We have a wonderful evening prayer that says, “Lord Jesus, stay with us, for evening is at hand and the day is past; be our companion in the way…”  We could also mention that in the morning, invite the Lord Jesus to lead the way, and find the journey a lot less stressful.  When the Heavenly Father asked that the Son go into the vineyard, he replied, “I will go, sir.”  And he went in obedience to the will of the Father.  His promise to those who also go in obedience to the Father’s call is that he will walk every step of the way.  What did his obedience mean?  Three years on he road, no fixed address, the religiously righteous as his throat, followers who did not always understand, betrayal by a close friend, denial by others, and death on trumped-up charges.  His obedience meant touching the broken, embracing enemies, feeding the hungry in body and soul, spending hours with just one person in need, confronting the powers that dehumanize and destroy the creatures of God.  His obedience meant living a life shaped, ruled, and given by the deepest love anyone could ever know.  Our obedience in following where he leads might also mean we touch the broken, embrace enemies, reach out to the least, the last, and the lost, provide shelter for the homeless, and stand over against the powers and principalities that destroy and corrupt the creatures and the creation of God.  I really don’t find much in the Gospels that says if we follow we will be popular and well-liked and socially idolized.  It is a perversion of the message of God in Christ to claim some inherent superiority simply because we follow an itinerant preacher. 

Finally, we also have been given our commission.  Our credibility in this skeptical world rests squarely on our throwing ourselves into his cause.  Our lives are to be immersed in healing, giving, loving, and freeing those whom he came to save.  Going into the vineyard these days involves far more than a flippant “Yes, sir” and a pledge to the church.  Being in the vineyard involves sustaining, nourishing, supporting, and building bridges in order for relationships to be restored, in order for reconciliation to take place, and in order for peacemakers to again take their place among the blessed.

The Father urges us to go into the vineyard and work.  He invites us to invest all that we are, all that we have, and all that we may become in wiping tears, standing for convictions that free people from whatever bondage they are experiencing, laying ourselves on the line for others.

Hear the words of the Father, “Go into my vineyard and work.”  If we will remember that we have our credentials, our constant companion, and our commission, we may indeed answer, “I go, sir.”  By the grace, power, mercy, guidance, and sustaining love of the Father, we may go and work.  We need not worry about success.  We aren’t called to be successful.  We are called to be faithful.

Our deeds will then match our intentions and the world will be changed.  Amen.