God opts to forgive rather than punish

As a farmer laboriously cultivates his vineyard — spading it, clearing it of stones and pruning the vines — so does God labor in nurturing and caring for his people. However, in our First Reading, the Lord expresses exasperation over Israel which he has faithfully tended and protected, because instead of bearing good and abundant fruit, she has born wild grapes. 

The Lord threatens to destroy its walls and hedges and allow Israel, his vineyard, to be trampled upon.  He intends to curse Israel by commanding the clouds not to rain over her.  The Lord contemplates unleashing his wrath upon Israel and allow her to be destroyed due to her infidelity and sinfulness.

Similarly in our Gospel today, Jesus tells the story of a vineyard owner whose tenants kill his emissaries whom he sends to collect the produce.  Ultimately, the vineyard owner sends his own son, thinking that the tenants would respect him.  Instead, they kill the heir in order to acquire his inheritance.

Jesus identifies himself as the cornerstone rejected by the builders of an edifice, anticipates his rejection and death in the hands of his own people and their Roman occupiers, and forewarns Israel of the destruction that awaits them for their intransigence and corruption.  Our readings thus revolve around, on the one hand, God’s well-intentioned plans that are thwarted by our sinfulness and, on the other hand, our impending ruin. 

While our punishment due to our collective sin may be justified, the awe-inspiring and humbling paradox is that instead of meting upon us the penalty we deserve, God himself has worked out a way for us to avoid perdition, to personally amend for our sins through the perfect obedience and sacrifice of the Son on the cross, and — incredibly so — to “reward” us with eternal life despite our unworthiness and wretchedness.

Instead of punishing us, God forgives. Instead of making us pay for our sins, God the Son atones for our offenses. Instead of allowing to be annihilated, God shares with us eternity. Instead of casting us away from his sight, God draws us into intimacy with him.  What can be more absurd than God’s fidelity and goodness to us in response to our sinfulness?

Sr. Amelita Tanseco, FMM, told me this story of a South African woman whose husband was beaten up and killed by members of a rival tribe. The son who tried to defend his father was likewise brutally murdered. 

Eventually the killers of her husband and son were brought to court.  Finding them guilty, the judge asked the woman what punishment she wished for the leader of the gang that killed the two men in her life. She replied, “I want to adopt him as my own son and teach him forgiveness and compassion.”

How easy for us to pat ourselves on the back, claiming honesty in our work, fidelity to our family, non-involvement in multi-million pesos cases of corruption. We assure ourselves that the readings today about God’s wrath upon evildoers do not refer to us. They pertain to those mired in grievous sin.  And yet, the more honest we are with ourselves, the more we humbly recognize our personal sinfulness and complicity in the sin in the world.

Notwithstanding all these, the Lord bestows upon us his infinite understanding and mercy.  The Lord assures us of withholding his wrath for those who sincerely strive to be faithful to him. And despite our unworthiness, the Lord invites us to be his emissaries of compassion in his vast vineyard.

Perhaps more than the fear of a punishing God, a predominant image of God among many Christians, the personal experience of his infinite mercy is what will make us freely turn away from sin and humbly approach him who constantly draws us to him. It is not the threat of punishment that will ultimately bring about our conversion, but the graced experience of his tender love that will move our hearts and move us to follow him freely and wholeheartedly.