He’s lost his patience. The temple tables have been turned over — and the crash still rings in the ears of his adversaries as they question his authority. The young rabbi has cleaned out what he could with the time he had left. Only a couple of stories left to tell. The subtle ones are gone.
He describes creation of a vineyard.* From this place, new wine would come. Whose working hands were ready and free? The first tenants, not knowing what a good day’s work looks like, violently rejected those who had been sent to harvest. Bad actors in a fertile place, fruit heavy on the vine. He quotes a Psalm he knew by heart: about how a cornerstone holds a house together. That was his job. Not to build the house, but to square and frame it. Trusting in good workers to finish what he started. It was to them that he was speaking.
Around the hot edges of this discussion, his followers gather. Though he’s not looking at them as he speaks, he’s addressing them. He describes what’s happening and what will happen. He is speaking about his adversaries, not to them. His friends recognize this.
He re-members them…reminding them that within the soil of their connected bodies, their sacred purpose rests. They know that he’s talking about the “vineyard” they’ve all been working in. A divine co-op shared by all who wish to be family. It’s theirs now. They’ve held every seed, known every branch, and felt the weight of their good fruit shining on the vine.
