Common Earth

Among the vineyards of Kenwood, California, there are mustard flowers growing in the spring, even ahead of the bud-break on the vines. Ancient watchtowers, made of wood, clamber over head. And in the fall the wine presses are at work. The whole valley richly smells of the crush of grapes. Wine is being made. Hoppers full of blue heavy juiced grapes fill and empty into vats. Trucks bring more. And that is how it is, at this time in a normal year. Not so anymore. Three years ago the valley was threatened by fire, that came quickly over the ridges from the valley to the east, blown along by dry hot winds through brush, trees, grass, and houses. Vineyards smoked. And the grapes were tainted. That was then, that is now. For the same areas are once again threatened, or consumed, by wildfire. Spreading quickly. Homes are lost. And the people suffer. And the grapes are tainted, and once again fall to the ground, unharvested.

This brings home to me the Biblical images of the vineyard, the press, the tower, and the owner and the tenants. We are the tenants. In those stories, we have an image of our common earth, our common task, and hence our common prayer. 

We believers, in more than face value, in knowing there is more to the story than what we read in the news or hear through the air, know that God is good, creation is valuable, and we have to do something about this. It is our heritage and our stewardship. 

You may have notice the prayer for the original stewards of this land that we say at the beginning of our gatherings. We remember those who came before us and their continuing traditions of care for the earth, and we join them in its care. We are planted in the garden, alongside other creatures, but we have a call to care for the earth. Knowingly, not just instinctively, we can act together for the common good of earth.

Today is the 18th Sunday after Pentecost; it is also the feast day of Saint Francis of Assisi. The birdbath saint. The one who seems to know and care for all creatures, and to talk to them more unselfconsciously than Doctor Doolittle. Among the creatures he cared about and looked after the most were his fellow human beings. His vocation as steward and teacher took early expression in his embrace of a beggar on the road with skin disease. Then young and impetuous and rich, he leapt down from his steed and gave the man a kiss. Breaking the taboos, breaking the rules, making his home then on with the poor. With us. 

For we are the poor and we are the wealthy. We live under glorious skies, and transcendent gloom. We have and we have not. We share and we do not. We care and we do not. It is our choice; and it is not.

We can do what is within our power, collectively, as the people of God, and individually as people of prayer, of power through our intentional stewardship of what has been given us.

Or we can be like those guys in Jesus' story.

Pretty much the whole thing had been handed to them. The vineyard they rented had already been developed, fenced and provided with watchtower and winepress. All they had to do was take care of it. And the harvest would come. And when it did, the landlord would be back. Were they ready? No. 

Are we?

That is the challenge before us, to be good stewards of what has been provided for us. And to 'bear fruit' as Jesus puts it, the fruit of the kingdom, the fruit that is more than produce but is the fruit of the spirit. And that means justice. For climate change is racial injustice. And to bend the arc of natural and human history back toward justice is going to take the work of all of us, each of us, in our individual and common work.

Most high, omnipotent good Lord, grant your people grace to renounce gladly the vanities of this world; that, following the way of blessed Francis, we may for love of you delight in your whole creation with perfectness of joy. O God, you have made us and all living things. You are even more wonderful than what you have made. We thank you for giving us joy in your creation and the creatures with whom we share it. As you take care of us, so also we ask your help that we might take care of what you have entrusted to us. By doing this, we share in your own love for all creation. We ask this in Jesus' name. Amen.