Grace, peace and mercy are yours in the one God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

It’s a day for stories, so I’d like to tell you a story – a story about a preacher…I’m not going to name names.

At the end of the Sunday service, after a particularly long and (could I even say) boring sermon, the parishioners filed out of the church saying nothing to the preacher. Towards the end of the line was a thoughtful person who always commented on the sermons. “Pastor,” they said carefully, “today your sermon reminded me of the peace and love of God.”

The pastor was thrilled. “Nobody has ever said anything like that about my preaching before. Tell me why.”

“Because it endured forever.”

Bad joke, I know…While I hope that my sermon will remind you of the peace and love of God, I certainly hope it’s not because it will feel like it’s enduring forever.

It’s a day for stories – When I was a kid, I loved to read. Every month mum would drive us down to the local library, to browse the collection and to pick up our next load of books to devour in the coming weeks. I loved library Friday.

And what a collection I’d get – my eclectic tastes meant I ended up with all sorts of stories. Looking back, there are many that were quickly read and maybe quickly forgotten, but then there were many that introduced me to authors that I loved and who would travel with me for life as I bought up their whole collections to own for myself. For me, my library at home is my happy place – surrounded by stories – stories that have spoken to me, stories that enriched my understanding of people, stories that have carried meaning. I see nods and smile – I suspect many of you can relate.

One author I discovered in my younger years, through her book “A Wrinkle in Time” is Madeleine L’Engle. What a storyteller she was…and while I could wax lyrical about the Christian theology in her stories, you might find this sermon would indeed endure forever just like in the joke. So I shall refrain from that and just mention that L’Engle once insightfully wrote:

Jesus was not a theologian, he was a God who told stories.

Madeleine L’Engel

And what’s not to love about that – Jesus didn’t come down and write great tomes about how we should live and believe…he related to us in stories.

The parables Jesus told – these innocuous little stories about something seemingly simple and every day, at first seem pretty ordinary…but then in the ordinary-ness we come to see how the nature of God is revealed in surprising and even unexpected ways. As you read and start to work with them, parables tend to be both engaging and really frustrating all at the same time. They may not have a humorous punchline, but they do often pack a punch. There often seems to be a moral that comes out of the story – a guideline for us and how we should live…but I often find that if we try to explain the moral of the story, it will often seem to suck the very life out of the story. Because you see, at their heart parables aren’t about morals…they’re about truth… a deeper truth that goes far beyond a simple moral.

Parables invite us to engage with them, to live them and relate with them…not just explain them. And I have to confess that that’s left me in a bit of a quandary as I’ve come to work on this sermon for today. I mean, how do I talk about this parable without being that preacher that leaves you feeling that this sermon has indeed endured forever? What could I say to you all that would speak to a year 2 student as much as it would to their parent, or to a teenager or to someone who’s attended church for the last 70 years?

So I tried to work on it, and what I came up with was…nothing! Like the fig tree in the story today, there was literally no fruit on these branches. I felt like I’d worked so hard studying the text and reading up on insightful commentaries… so where was my sermon? Where was that amazing message that would make you all laugh and cry, make you want to rend your cloak and repent, make you go out as better people and make you want to give lots and lots of money to the church? (only kidding about that last one)

So I can relate to that poor fig tree in the story, a tree that for whatever reason can’t produce. And I guess, looking back, I tend to feel like that on a regular basis…and perhaps you do too – I mean, not about me, but maybe you feel that way about yourselves. Are there times when you feel unable to produce…to do the excellent work that seem to be expected of you, to produce the amazing fruit of hard work that you think you should produce. Maybe in some way we’re all a bit like that fig tree – unable to be those amazing fruitful being that we think we should be, unable to live up to all that is expected of us.

So, as I start thinking about the characters in this parable, if I’m the fig tree…then…is God the vineyard owner? I mean, we often think of God in the role as the powerful one, the wealthy owner, the king…it’s almost instinctive to see God in that role. And it’s not necessarily wrong to assign that role to him…but the reality is that that kingly character is only one part of who he is. You see, the thing with parables is that there aren’t strictly designated roles…these stories are more like poetry or great artwork…sometimes it’s worth looking at things with one eye close and tilting your head and looking at things is another way.

Because when you start to examine him, the vineyard owner in this story sounds fickle and impatient, capricious and demanding, ready to tear us down for what we fail to do. But the vineyard owner in this story doesn’t sound like the God I know – the God revealed in Jesus Christ – the God who comes to dwell with us with grace and truth, the God whose steadfast love endures forever. In fact, the vineyard owner doesn’t sound so much like God…it sounds more like…well…me. If I’m honest, I’m the one who judges myself and others harshly, wondering why I can’t pull off what I want to do. I’m the one who sets limits, who gets impatient, who holds high expectations and is disappointed and angry at myself (and others) when those expectations aren’t met. I’m the one who ends up tearing myself down, or tearing others down.

As I read this parable again, I start to feel like I’m both the vineyard owner and the fig tree at one and the same time. And it’s kind of heart-breaking when we come to realise this in ourselves, when we hear an internal monologue that is more accusatory and hurtful than anything else anyone else says to us, an internal voice that is constantly tearing us down. But it’s in this very realisation that makes the next discovery ground-breaking. Because after that accusing voice, we hear the answering voice of the one who cares for the vineyard, the one who promises to care for the tree, to feed it and nurture it.

It’s in the words of the gardener of the story that we discover God’s true nature, revealed to us in Christ Jesus. In him, we hear tolerance and patience. In him we discover a God who understands us and our failings. In him we discover a God of second chances, a God who is prepared to give us another go…and especially a God who doesn’t leave us to try again without assistance. Just as the gardener of the story waters his tree, so does God pour out his Spirit to us in the waters of baptism. And as the gardener tends to and feeds his trees, so are we nurtured and fed in the bread and wine.

In joining into this story, we are joined with a God who continually tell us “One more year”, “one more day”, “one more chance”. He continually offers us one more day to discover his love working in our lives…one more year to forgive someone, or to forgive yourself. One more year to be fed and nurtured by his Spirit, one more chance to try again.

So, today and always, the God who shows you his tender love that truly endures forever says to each and every one of you, “You have yet one more year, one more day, one more chance.”

And the peace and love of God which surpasses all human understanding will guard your heart and mind in Christ Jesus. Amen.