Homily from the Hill

Proper 22 — Year A
Eighteenth Sunday after Trinity
Sunday 4 October 2026

Readings

Isaiah 5:1–7
Psalm 80:7–14
Philippians 3:4b–14
Matthew 21:33–46

“The vineyard is not ours to possess, but ours to tend.”

And

“What fruit is my life producing?”

Two thoughts for today.

There is something rather lovely about the fact that our readings today are full of vineyards and harvests. Certainly, most of us enjoy a glass of wine or two. I certainly know I do.

Perhaps that is because we are at that wonderful time of year when the harvest is becoming visible all around us. The vignerons have been working overtime to ensure that the harvest is completed before the rains come. The grapes have been gathered, the presses have been working, and another year's work is being turned into wine.

A vineyard is a wonderful picture of patience.

You prepare the soil. You plant the vines. You prune them. You protect them from disease and pests. You wait through the seasons. And eventually you hope for a good harvest.

But what happens when, after all that care, the vineyard produces the wrong kind of fruit?

That is the picture Isaiah gives us today.

The beloved has prepared the vineyard with extraordinary care. The soil has been cleared. The finest vines have been planted. A watchtower has been built and a winepress prepared.

Everything has been done that could reasonably be expected.

And yet, when the harvest comes, the vineyard has produced wild grapes.

Isaiah then gives us the uncomfortable truth at the heart of the story.

God expected justice — but found injustice.

God expected righteousness — but heard cries of distress.

The vineyard is not simply about vines. It represents God's people and the world in which God has placed them.

And that brings us to the Gospel, which falls into two distinct parts. First, we are told of the unfaithful vineyard workers, and then Jesus’ words to the chief priests and Pharisees are about the rejected stone becoming the cornerstone.

Jesus asked the religious leaders, “Have you never read in the scriptures?” referring them back to our first reading from Isaiah, where it explicitly states that the vineyard is the house of Israel and the owner is God, the Lord of Hosts.

Then Jesus told almost the same story.

Again there is a vineyard. Again the owner has carefully prepared it. Again the vineyard is entrusted to others.

But when the owner sends servants to collect the harvest, they are beaten, rejected and killed.

Finally, the owner sends his son.

And we know what happens to him.

Jesus is speaking about himself, but he is also asking a much larger question:

What do we do with what God has entrusted to us?

That is a question which reaches far beyond the religious authorities of Jesus' day.

It reaches us.

Because everything we have is, in one sense, entrusted to us.

Our homes.

Our families.

Our friendships.

Our communities.

Our abilities.

Our time.

And the beautiful world in which we live.

We sometimes speak of these things as though they belong entirely to us.

But perhaps the vineyard reminds us that we are not the owners.

We are tenants.

And a good tenant does not simply ask, “What can I get out of this?”

A good tenant asks:

“How can I care for what has been entrusted to me?”

That seems especially appropriate today, as we reach the end of the Season of Creation and celebrate the feast of St Francis of Assisi.

St Francis understood this instinctively.

He saw creation not simply as something to be used, but as something through which we can recognise the goodness of God.

The sun, the moon, the earth, the animals, the water — all were part of God's wonderful household.

And perhaps that gives us another way of hearing today's vineyard stories.

The earth itself is a vineyard entrusted to us.

We didn't create it.

We didn't put the sun in the sky.

We didn't make the rain fall.

We didn't invent the soil beneath our feet.

We inherited a world that was already here, and we will eventually hand it on to others.

So the question becomes:

What fruit will we leave behind?

Not simply what will we have accumulated.

Not how successful we have appeared.

Not how important other people thought we were.

But what fruit?

Which brings us beautifully to St Paul.

Paul tells the Philippians about all the things he once regarded as important — his background, his credentials, his achievements and his religious standing.

But now, he says, he counts them as loss compared with knowing Christ.

He is not pretending that his past never happened.

Rather, he refuses to allow his past to determine his future.

“I press on,” he says.

There is something wonderfully hopeful about those words.

Paul is still on the journey.

He has not arrived.

He is still growing, still learning, still reaching forward.

And perhaps that is where these readings finally meet us.

The vineyard is not asking us whether we have produced a perfect harvest.

It is asking whether we are still willing to be tended by God.

Are we willing to allow God to prune away what needs pruning?

Are we willing to let go of things that once seemed important?

Are we willing to make room for something new to grow?

And are we willing to share the fruit that God helps us produce?

Because the Christian life is not about standing still and looking back at what we have achieved.

It is about pressing forward.

It is about becoming more Christ-like.

It is about producing the fruits of love, patience, kindness, generosity, justice and peace.

And perhaps, as we celebrate St Francis today, we can add one more:

CARE.

Care for one another.

Care for the vulnerable.

Care for the stranger.

Care for God's creation.

Care for the little corner of God's vineyard in which each of us has been planted.

We may sometimes wonder what difference one person can make.

But vineyards are built one vine at a time.

Communities are built one act of kindness at a time.

And God's kingdom grows through countless small acts of faithfulness.

So, as we leave the vineyard today, perhaps we can carry one simple question with us:

What fruit is my life producing?

And perhaps our prayer can be:

“Lord, tend the vineyard of my life.

Prune away what prevents love from growing.

Give me patience when the harvest seems far away.

And help me to bear fruit that brings blessing to others and glory to you.

Amen.”

Thought for the Week

A vineyard takes patience.

The vine is planted, tended, pruned and cared for long before the fruit appears.

Our lives are rather like that.

We may not always see the fruit of our kindness, our prayers or our faithfulness.

But that does not mean that nothing is growing.

This week, perhaps we can ask ourselves:

What fruit is God growing in my life — and what fruit can I share with someone else?

We don’t have to change the whole world.

One act of kindness, one word of encouragement, one moment of patience, one small act of care may be all that is asked of us.

For we are each entrusted with a little corner of God’s vineyard.

And God asks us not for perfection, but for faithfulness.

A Thought on the Parable of the Wicked Vineyard Workers

A vineyard takes patience.

The vine is planted, tended, pruned and cared for long before the fruit appears.

Our lives are rather like that.

In today's Gospel, Jesus uses the vineyard to speak not simply about growth, but about what we do with what has been entrusted to us.

The vineyard belongs to the owner. The workers are its caretakers, but they begin to behave as though it belongs to them. They reject those who are sent to collect the harvest, and ultimately they reject the owner's son, whom they kill.

Symbolically, the son represents Jesus, the owner of the vineyard is God, and the vineyard represents the House of Israel. The tenants are those who have been entrusted with its care.

Then Jesus speaks of the stone rejected by the builders becoming the cornerstone. Jesus is the cornerstone for the new covenant with God.

Perhaps that is the challenge for us.

We can become so accustomed to the way things are that we fail to recognise what God is asking of us. We can hold tightly to what has been entrusted to us, rather than asking how we can use it for God's purposes.

The cornerstone is Christ himself — the one who shows us a new way of living: a way based not on possession or power, but on love, service, forgiveness and care for others.

So the vineyard becomes a picture of our own lives.

What has God entrusted to me?

And perhaps the more searching question is:

What am I doing with it?

We may not always see the fruit of our kindness, our prayers or our faithfulness. But that does not mean that nothing is growing.

This week, perhaps we can ask ourselves:

What fruit is God growing in my life — and what fruit can I share with someone else?

We don't have to change the whole world.

One act of kindness, one word of encouragement, one moment of patience, one small act of care may be all that is asked of us.

For we are each entrusted with a little corner of God's vineyard.

And God asks us not for perfection, but for faithfulness.

Our Prayer for the Coming Week

Lord God,

You are the gardener of our lives.

Thank you for all that you have entrusted to us —

the people we love,

the world in which we live,

and the opportunities each new day brings.

Prune away from us all that prevents your love from growing.

Give us patience when we cannot yet see the harvest.

Give us courage to press forward, like Paul,

and humility to remember that all we have is a gift.

Teach us, in the spirit of St Francis,

to care for your creation,

to cherish one another,

and to recognise your presence in all that you have made.

Help us to bear fruit that brings hope to the discouraged,

kindness to the lonely,

justice to those who are overlooked,

and peace to those who are troubled.

And when our own harvest is gathered,

may we discover that the greatest fruit we have produced

is love.

Through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.