Woulda-Coulda-Shoulda
O God, be with us today as we look to you as our cornerstone upon which we build our faith. May we always look to you in all that we do. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen
The imagery of a vineyard was such a familiar idea in the Bible, but for many people who live in the city, it's a totally unfamiliar process. Our culture makes wine or raisins or juice available year round, so sweat and toil become a type of codeswitching.
Codeswitching is a anthropology term. It helps describe the process of navigating through the language, the customs, and acceptable behaviors of a region or location. Baseball caps or dew-rags are preferred in different neighborhoods, and yelling 'Roll Tide' on a Saturday will not generate nearly the excitement here in Iowa as cheering for the Cyclones, Hawkeyes or Panthers.
The codeswitching language we see today talks about the spread of the Kingdom of God, but it also focuses on personal choices, woulda-shoulda-coulda thinking and safety. Let's take a closer look at this.
In both Isaiah and the Gospel today, we see detailed descriptions of the vineyard, with it's lush foliage and careful cultivation. Planting grapes takes at least three years before a good fruit yield can happen. Irrigation and pruning are labor-intensive.
To the culture at the time in the Holy Land, having a vineyard symbolized wealth, because the owner could dig out rocky ground and afford a delayed return on his investment, as well as building walls and hedges around the grapes to keep out wild animals or the neighbor’s sheep, goats, or cattle. With the tendrils and leaves of the grapevines spreading and multiplying, the image also speaks of multiplying God's Kingdom. And the watchtower built in both of these vineyards marks the space as a safe space.
When it was time to harvest the grapes, long hours of labor were required and day laborers were hired. The family helped, staying safely inside the watchtower at night, protected from predators that still roamed the countryside then. There's something really beautiful about this imagery of being protected from the inside of a productive vineyard, mirroring the way our Creator takes care of us.
However, both of these vineyards are destined to see destruction. In our own lives, the wild vines are those concerns that occupy our time but yield little fruit. Instead, we become tangled in them, leading to a dangerous trap.
It's called woulda-coulda-shoulda thinking
Woulda-coulda-shoulda thinking means that we always are second-guessing our own ability to make positive decisions.
We guilt trip or gaslight ourselves.
And we struggle with our own worthiness.
We ask questions.
Could anyone love me if I show my authentic self?
What if I would have done something else at a critical crossroads in my life?
Should I forgive someone who has broken my trust?
Its a terrible codeswitching of finding fault rather than reflection on how we can get better.
Look, we all have failures and mistakes to our name. I know I do. The hope is that we will reflect and learn from them. In Isaiah, wild vines are ruthlessly destroyed. Unfortunately, I don't find it to be that easy. Sometimes I am just glad that anything is growing in my garden at all, even if it is weeds. In the worst case, many of us replay situations endlessly and the wildness becomes unruly.
It is hard to rip those vines out of the ground. Woulda-coulda-shoulda thinking drags us down, replacing opportunities for Grace with a sense of dread. Our lives become less about working in the Kingdom and more about believing we must fix things to become worthy.
If we just do enough.
If we just work harder.
If we just hide our flaws a little bit better.
God doesn't work that way. No matter how hard we try to grow wild grapes, our yield will be unsatisfactory. It won't be enough for us, and it won't help others quench their thirst either.
Instead, God will make sure we have good plants if we take the time to ask.
In his telling of the story, Jesus is less worried about wild grapes and more critical about the laborers. Jesus had studied the Jewish holy scriptures. He knows this story from Isaiah, but his way of telling the parable and the imagery is more direct. Killing a property slave in Jewish culture required a payment of restitution; tenants killing the heir would be punished by death.
This Gospel continues from last week's reading, where tax collectors and prostitutes are ranked as more just than the Temple scribes and elders. This week's imagery is filled with violence, foreshadowing the betrayal and death of Jesus that arrives in chapter 27. The Heir of the Kingdom is under attack, and God is the Landowner.
Imagine how different this story would be if the leadership of the Temple had listened, taking time to learn about the Way of Jesus and his followers and sheltering in them love of God. The vineyard was already fruitful. The harvest was ready.
The Temple elders could have changed the ending but they made bad personal choices.
They should have built on the Cornerstone instead of rejecting the Son of God.
They would have received forgiveness, if they had only wanted it.
Jesus understood the codeswitch culture of the Temple priests. The heavy lifting was being done by others while they lived a life free from heavy burdens. They rejected the safety of the watchtower and tried to build their own.
So that's the lesson for us as well.
Are you ready to do the work?
To give up the woulda-coulda-shouldas in your life?
For the grace to run to the safety of the Cornerstone that is our God?
May we speak plainly, avoiding the flowery, churchy language that has its own codes and buzzwords. Let's gather at our own watchtower. Here at Trinity Episcopal Church, working in relationship, relaxing, and regrouping. When we leave and head out into the world, let us head into the Kingdom of God wherever we are called.
Amen.
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