"Called to More: Tenants of a Shared Vineyard" (October 4, 2026 Sermon)

Called to More: Tenants of a Shared Vineyard

Rev. Dr. Stephen M. Fearing·October 4, 2026·Guilford Park Presbyterian Church

19^th Sunday after Pentecost (Year A)

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Matthew 21:33-46

“Listen to another parable. There was a landowner who planted a vineyard, put a fence around it, dug a winepress in it, and built a watchtower. Then he leased it to tenants and went away. When the harvest time had come, he sent his slaves to the tenants to collect his produce. But the tenants seized his slaves and beat one, killed another, and stoned another. Again he sent other slaves, more than the first, and they treated them in the same way. Then he sent his son to them, saying, ‘They will respect my son.’ But when the tenants saw the son, they said to themselves, ‘This is the heir; come, let us kill him and get his inheritance.’ So they seized him, threw him out of the vineyard, and killed him. Now when the owner of the vineyard comes, what will he do to those tenants?” They said to him, “He will put those wretches to a miserable death and lease the vineyard to other tenants who will give him the produce at the harvest time.”

Jesus said to them, “Have you never read in the scriptures:

‘The stone that the builders rejected
    has become the cornerstone;
this was the Lord’s doing,
    and it is amazing in our eyes’?

“Therefore I tell you, the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that produces its fruits. The one who falls on this stone will be broken to pieces, and it will crush anyone on whom it falls.”

When the chief priests and the Pharisees heard his parables, they realized that he was speaking about them. They wanted to arrest him, but they feared the crowds, because they regarded him as a prophet.

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I am very grateful for the theological insights of the young ones among us. A young disciple here at the church asked me a few weeks ago whether God is in dinosaurs' hearts. It was a very important theological question. My response is: is a God who isn't in dinosaurs' hearts a God worthy of our worship? I don't think so. So yes, God is in fact in dinosaurs' hearts!

Another one that threw me for a loop came a week ago, when we were in the car heading home from preschool. Hazel Grace, just out of the blue, asked me a very profound theological question. She said, "Daddy, do you own the church?” I thought over it for a minute and then said, "No, no. Daddy doesn't own the church. Daddy is responsible for working with the people of our church to take care of it for this chapter in its life."

So I'm really grateful for both the dinosaur question and the question of whether pastors own the church. It reminded me that bad things happen when pastors think they own the church. You could also say that bad things happen when congregations think they own the church. And I think this story also tells us that bad things happen when tenants think they own the vineyard.

A Text Used and Misused

This is a bizarre little parable in Matthew's gospel, one we think the early church told itself to try to make sense of why Jesus was rejected by his own people. So before we go any further into this text, I want to name the ways it has been used, abused, and misused, including in very antisemitic ways. Starting way back in the fourth century with an early church leader named John Chrysostom, this text has been used in some pretty blatant antisemitic ways, such as the idea that the metaphorical vineyard once belonged to the Jews. They had their moment, right? But then they messed up, they rejected Jesus, and now it's “our turn” as Christians.

Folks, we don't peddle that sort of theology here at Guilford Park Presbyterian Church. In fact, I think it is a theological truth that this vineyard was never a “Jewish” vineyard. And you know what? It's not a “Christian” vineyard either. This vineyard belongs to God and God alone. And we are all shared stewards, or tenants, of this vineyard, Jews and Christians alike.

So I think it's important to remember that this story in the Bible is an internal conversation within the Jewish community. It's not pointing fingers at another religion. Therefore, for us as Christians to wave it around and weaponize it against our Jewish siblings is arrogant and theologically problematic, because it falls into the same trap that the tenants in today's story fell into. They thought they owned the vineyard. They didn't realize, as Hazel Grace reminded me, that we don't “own” this.

Yes, we call this our church, and for good reason. Yet we all need to be reminded - myself included - that this doesn't belong to us. This belongs to God. As I gesture here, I hope you all know I'm not talking about the building. I'm talking about us, about this community that God has blessed us with.

Shared Tenants of God’s Vineyard

And I think that's ultimately the story we have in this parable from Matthew's gospel: the idea that God, for reasons beyond my fathoming, entrusts us with this beautiful vineyard. And y'all, we have not always done the best job of it, like the tenants in today's story. But for reasons beyond my fathoming, which I'm nevertheless grateful for, God gives us a chance, over and over and over again, to produce the sort of fruit of neighborliness we are so very hungry for right now.

I hope you all enjoy our new sign from David LaMotte that you see out there, our "Let's Be Neighbors" sign, because that's ultimately what we do here in this vineyard, this little microcosm of God's vineyard that we call Guilford Park Presbyterian Church. We are all shared tenants of it. Which is why we are all being called together to give our tithes, offerings, and pledges, not because we “have” to, but because we get to.

In a world where we are taught to be at each other's throats, we stand up and say, "No, there is a better way for us to come together," at this Table that is not ours. This beautiful vineyard, where hope and healing come, does not belong to us. You and I are shared stewards of it. Though we may come together from different places, political backgrounds, geographic areas, and generations, we all gather around a shared story at this table. And that is a beautiful, beautiful thing.

And so we guard this good treasure. A few weeks ago, I sent out a letter that mentioned one of my favorite passages from 2 Timothy, where Paul tells the young Timothy, "Guard the good treasure entrusted to you." You and I have been given a good treasure here at Guilford Park. We are called to guard it, not to hoard it as those wicked tenants did in today's story. We guard it to share it with our neighbors.

Come as Individuals, Leave as Neighbors

So I want us to remember that today. As a beautiful act of remembrance, I want us all to go ahead and turn to our next hymn, which we're going to sing in just a second. It's number 515 in your purple hymnals. Go ahead and open that up right now, if you would. I want to thank Dr. Bill for selecting this text, which I had forgotten about. It's been some time since I sang it. One of the things I love about this hymn, which we're going to close out this sermon with, is the clever theological turn it makes.

Look at the first two verses. What word do they start with? "I." [“I come with joy, a child of God…”] The second verse does something similar. [“I come with Christians far and near…”] So the first two verses begin with "I," right? This idea that we come together as individuals.

But notice, as we sing this hymn, there's a pivot that happens in the middle. Look at verse 4. [“alive among us here…”] And then the last verse. [“Together met, together bound by all that God has done…”]

I love the pivot in this hymn because whenever we come to this table, whenever we come to this vineyard, so to speak, we come as individuals but leave as neighbors. And that's what we're about here at Guilford Park Presbyterian Church. And that is why we give: not because we “have” to, but because we get to. Because we are tenants of a shared vineyard.

So, friends, I cannot close this sermon by myself. I need your help. So let all of us rise, in body or in spirit as you are able, singing our next hymn, “I Come With Joy.”

[sing hymn]

In the name of God the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer, may all of us, God’s beloved children, say: Amen.

"Disciples Take Their Faith Home" (October 5, 2025 Sermon)

Text: 2 Timothy 1:1-14

Let me start by saying that today’s passage from 2 Timothy contains one of your pastor’s favorite passages in the entire New Testament. “Guard the good treasure entrusted to you, with the help of the Holy Spirit living in us.” I’ve always loved that passage because I believe “guarding the good treasure entrusted to us” is at the heart of discipleship. When cruelty rears its ugly head, we guard the good treasure of compassion. When selfishness and greed dominate, we guard the good treasure of generosity. When fear is weaponized to turn neighbor against neighbor, we guard the good treasure of inclusion. When death cosplays as the final word, we guard the good treasure of the Resurrection. That is our work as disciples. And we don’t guard these things to hoard them. No, it’s quite the opposite. We guard these treasures to share them generously.

And here’s the thing. You and I guard these life-giving gifts from God because we stand on the shoulders of those who raised us in the faith and taught us to follow God with all our heart, soul, and might. Today’s passage specifically references two women who have served in that capacity for the recipient of this letter.

But let’s back up a bit. 1st and 2nd Timothy were both written by Paul, or more precisely, by a follower of Paul who wrote in his style and in his honor. One reason this is a popular passage is because of its enthusiastic encouragement and positivity, despite the 'suffering' the author mentions. We believe that the letters of 1st and 2nd Timothy were composed by an elder leader of the early church for a much younger leader. Think of it as a letter of encouragement from a retiring pastor to a new seminary graduate about to take her first call.

I believe the tone of this letter resonates with us because we all need encouragement right now. I’ve had some truly uplifting conversations with many of you over the past few weeks—conversations with congregants on the left, right, and middle. And there’s a common thread among all of them: everyone is exhausted and anxious. No matter where we stand on the political or theological spectrum, we are all disheartened by the division and hostility of our current body politic. We need each other. We need each other’s listening ears. We need each other’s curiosity. We need each other’s compassion. We need each other’s compromise. And the tone of this letter may seem a little naive or foreign in this time of scorched-earth rhetoric. So, my prayer is that we may each find a way for the encouraging message of this passage to soften our hearts. And another prayer is that we could each find a way to share that encouraging message with our neighbors.

My guess is that the author of this letter knew Timothy was about to start his early ministry because those around him expressed words of faithfulness and encouragement as he grew in the early church. The names of these voices are given to us: Lois and Eunice. The verse reads: “I am reminded of your sincere faith, a faith that first lived in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice; now, I am sure, it lives in you.” I especially appreciate this mention of two women who clearly played a vital role in Timothy’s faith development because 1 Timothy is infamous for its statement that women “should learn in quietness and full submission.” This passage has, of course, been used over the centuries as a blanket argument to keep women out of the pulpit and other leadership roles in the church. I trust you know that I do not subscribe to that patriarchal theology. One of the many reasons I don’t is because this verse from 2 Timothy names Lois, Timothy’s grandmother, and Eunice, his mother, as key parts of his faith journey. The author describes faith as a living thing, something that first lived in Eunice and Lois and now lives in him, largely due to their influence on his ministry.

And so, whenever I come to this verse, I’m inspired to name in gratitude the women in my family who have inspired, and continue to inspire, me as a disciple. I think about my grandmother, Gaye, who is celebrating her 90th birthday this month. She taught me so much about the importance of being a decent and generous person who isn’t afraid to take a risk to do the right thing. I think about my mother, Catherine, who taught me that creativity is a gift to be shared, and that having deep feelings can be a powerful way to connect with those who feel alone or hurting. I think, too, of my younger sister, Sarah Kate, who has a deep, deep capacity for joy, silliness, and compassion that make me a better brother, pastor, husband, and dad. And I would also add my daughters, Hazel Grace and Winnie, to that list. They have taught me resiliency, kindness, courage, and patience.

This passage can remind us that our nuclear families are powerful places for faith formation. To this day, I can still recite how my parents would end our prayers before meals: “Gracious God, we ask that this food might nourish our bodies that we may do the work of thy Son." I remember the pride I felt when my grandparents stood up to a pastor in their home congregation in Huntington, West Virginia, when he tried to expel all the gay people from that congregation. I remember having conversations about faith and the Bible around the dinner table, such as the ones at my grandparents' home, where they often hosted a Jewish family, the Weisbergs, who had been very close with our family over the years. That was where I learned the importance of respecting other faith traditions and practicing our own without forcing it upon others. Indeed, I stand before you as a pastor because of my family's dedication to the church of Jesus Christ.

And here, I want to acknowledge and honor a particularly painful subject for many among us. I am deeply aware that many of us mourn the fact that our children or grandchildren do not practice the faith they were raised in, or at least do not practice that faith in the same way. I’ve sat with more of you than I can count who lament that families are now divided not just over political differences, but also over theological and spiritual ones. I don’t have any simple answers for that—at least none I can explain succinctly in this sermon. But I want to say, as your pastor, that I honor that pain in you.

That's why I believe it’s important that, when we affirm that “disciples take their faith home,” we’re not just talking about our blood relatives. I think it’s crucial to remind ourselves that when we commit to discipleship, we expand our definition of family. That's why, when I think about those who have raised me in the faith, I don’t just think of my parents, grandparents, and sibling. I also think of Peter Hobbie, my religion professor in college who taught me to fall in love with the Bible all over again. I think of Anna Carter Florence, my preaching professor who lovingly pushed me to become a better preacher. I think of Michael Morgan, my friend who taught me the art of writing hymns. I think of Lynn Franklin, a former congregant of mine who showed me the importance of interfaith relationships and how diversity makes us stronger, not weaker. I think of Carolyn Sherrick, whose generosity still inspires me today. I think of Jane Lawrence, whom we said goodbye to about a year ago, whose kindness was a treasured presence at this church.

I was not biologically related to any of those folks I just mentioned, but they influenced my faith just as much as those blood relatives I also named. And that’s the beauty of our faith. Disciples carry their faith home while giving thanks that home is where you make it. Family is both inherited and chosen. Just as Christ made his home wherever he wandered, we are called to take our faith wherever we see the world’s needs.

Last week, many of us gathered in this very room—either in person or online—to sing happy birthday to Marie Franklin on her 100th birthday and Landon Bryant on his twelfth. I was moved when we started singing, and Marie reached out to hold Landon’s hand. It was a touching scene—one of our oldest members and one of our youngest connected by a faith we’ve inherited. As Marie and Landon held hands during the song, I was reminded that this is part of the precious treasure entrusted to us: an intergenerational church.

Later that same day, Landon and I gathered in the baptismal pool at First Baptist Church to celebrate his baptism. If you’ve never been in First Baptist’s sanctuary, the baptismal pool is somewhat high up above the choir at the front. As such, Landon and I were literally looking down on those gathered to celebrate his baptism and to make the public promise to nurture him in the faith, just as Lois and Eunice did for young Timothy. The picture you see on the TV is exactly what Landon and I saw as he was baptized. Before Landon submerged in the waters of his baptism, I invited him to take a moment and appreciate this view. I said, “Landon, I want you to look down and take a look at your faith family. These people are here because they love you. These people are here because God loves you. These people are here because they are making a promise this day to raise you in the faith—to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God.”

And so, friends, I hope that you and I can give thanks today for the way God calls us to take our faith home in diverse ways. I hope you can take some time this week to thank the Loises and the Eunices who have helped bring you to where you are today. Mr. Rogers once said, “In fact, from the time you were very little, you've had people who have smiled you into smiling, people who have talked you into talking, sung you into singing, loved you into loving.” May we give thanks today for those people and to the God who has lovingly placed them in our lives.

In the name of God the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer, may all of us, God’s children, say: Amen.