Parental Sour Grapes

Sermon preached by the Rev. Lowell E. Grisham, Rector
St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Fayetteville, Arkansas
September 28, 2008; 20th Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 21, Year A
Episcopal Revised Common Lectionary

(Ezekiel 18:1-4, 25-32) – The word of the Lord came to me: What do you mean by repeating this proverb concerning the land of Israel, "The parents have eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge"? As I live, says the Lord God this proverb shall no more be used by you in Israel. Know that all lives are mine; the life of the parent as well as the life of the child is mine: it is only the person who sins that shall die...

(Matthew 21:23-32) -- When Jesus entered the temple, the chief priests and the elders of the people came to him as he was teaching, and said, "By what authority are you doing these things, and who gave you this authority?" Jesus said to them, "I will also ask you one question; if you tell me the answer, then I will also tell you by what authority I do these things. Did the baptism of John come from heaven, or was it of human origin?" And they argued with one another, "If we say, `From heaven,' he will say to us, `Why then did you not believe him?' But if we say, `Of human origin,' we are afraid of the crowd; for all regard John as a prophet." So they answered Jesus, "We do not know." And he said to them, "Neither will I tell you by what authority I am doing these things.

"What do you think? A man had two sons; he went to the first and said, `Son, go and work in the vineyard today.' He answered, `I will not'; but later he changed his mind and went. The father went to the second and said the same; and he answered, `I go, sir'; but he did not go. Which of the two did the will of his father?" They said, "The first." Jesus said to them, "Truly I tell you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are going into the kingdom of God ahead of you. For John came to you in the way of righteousness and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors and the prostitutes believed him; and even after you saw it, you did not change your minds and believe him."
_______________________________________________________

Right at the beginning of the Ten Commandments, we hear this:
I the Lord your God am a jealous God, punishing children for the iniquity of parents, to the third and fourth generation of those who reject me.

Seven hundred years later, that conviction has come down to the generation of the prophet Ezekiel in the form of a folk idiom.
The parents have eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge.

Ezekiel speaks in the name of God and says, "No longer will you repeat this proverb. From now on, you are responsible for yourselves. You are not to carry the weight of your parents' guilt." It is a freeing and liberating word. But it is a freedom that must be claimed and lived into consciously.

An important task of our spiritual journey is to heal the inheritance of our past. We have to accept the ambiguity of the blessings and curses that have come to us from our ancestors. Then we have to define ourselves as separate beings, authentic and whole, yet connected to our past. I'd like for us to consider today's Gospel story as an illustration about how to do that.

The first part of the story shows Jesus challenging the chief priests and elders who have not been able become authentic and self-defining with respect to a part of their own past. They failed to endorse the popular prophet John the Baptist whom Herod has executed. "What do you think about John the Baptist?" Jesus asks them. Instead of telling Jesus what they think, they get anxious, and equivocate. Their response is reactive, not authentic. So Jesus doesn't waste his breath on them. They are not mature enough to handle his truth.

Then Jesus tells a story of two sons. A father says to each, "Son, go and work in the vineyard today." Now I'm going to read something into the story that is not there. I'm going to assume that this is a difficult father. I'm guessing that this father is someone who is dominating, controlling, maybe even abusive, at least from the perspective of his two sons. I think their reactions have something to do with their emotions about him.

Both sons are reactive. One appears compliant, "I go, sir," but then rebels in an unhealthy, passive aggressive way; he doesn't do what he said he would do. The other son reacts rebelliously, but then reconsiders, and does the responsible thing. He chooses to do what is right, despite his feelings about his father.

I saw a documentary film last week about a father and son. The film is about Haskell Wexler, two-time Academy Award winning cinematographer, 81 years old at the time of the documentary. It is filmed by his son Mark, who has had modest success as a photojournalist for the Smithsonian and for the Federal government. Father is a life-long outspoken liberal; son is a conservative, proud of his photo with George H.W. Bush, a souvenir of his photo-story about Air Force One.

It's hard to get a handle on why Mark is making a film about his father Haskell. Is it an attempt toward reconciliation, or is he documenting for the world to see what an SOB his father really is?

Haskell is bossy, intimidating, controlling – continually telling his son Mark how to place the camera, what scenes to choose, when to cut. These are orders. Most of the time Mark silently resists, staying behind the camera to exercise artistic control over the film he is making about his father. Over and over the son stands there, non-reactive, camera rolling, while the father goes off. "Maybe I would have been a better father if I knew what I know now when you were growing up so you wouldn't turn out to be such a mess," Haskell cackles with a scornful laugh. It's all recorded.

Mark is researching – exploring what makes his father the person he is. Mark goes back into their history. Mark's grandfather, Haskell's dad, was a successful electronics manufacturer. Haskell grew up in wealth and privilege during the depression. When Haskell wanted to become a film-maker, his father invested a million dollars into a failed startup. He told friends that Haskell's real work was turning money into excrement. Haskell managed to organize the workers at his father's plant into a union and led them in a strike.

Mark is researching – he visits his father's friends and colleages who have worked with him. They bring new perspectives, more views and angles. Many of them remark on Haskell's difficult personality, but they communicate respect, and sometimes even affection. It seems to help when Mark interviews Jane Fonda and Michael Douglas, the children of other famous, powerful fathers.

Still the battle of wills continues. Haskell wants to tell Mark something important, and calls him to his room. Mark suggests they film outside where the afternoon light overlooking San Francisco is perfect. "No," his father says, "We'll stay right here." "Dad, come outside for just a minute. It's a beautiful backdrop." The fight for control is excruciating. It seems to last forever. Both lose. Mark doesn't get his shot; Haskell doesn't tell his important message.

In a poignant moment, the crust breaks for just a bit. They visit Mark's mother, Haskell's second of four wives. They divorced after thirty-three years, punctuated by Haskell's many affairs. She is now living in the Alzheimer unit of a nursing home. Mark backs away, the camera still in range, as Haskell speaks softly to the silent woman. "We have secrets," he whispers to her. "Things no one else knows." "Yes," she says. Her only words during the encounter.

A learning moment seems to happen when Mark is trying to get a shot of his father swimming in the pool. His father instructs him how to frame the shot – to meet him half way, which Mark does, and it works. The sequence beautifully frames Haskell emerging from the water with a joyful smile.

The movie becomes a frank and courageous exploration of the most significant relationship in Mark Wexler's life. It is a tribute to his father; it is also brutally honest. But there's more. An additional trailer, not part of the film, records Haskell's watching the nearly finished first cut of the documentary. We see him laughing at his own arrogant hubris. We see him touched by the scene with his wife. When the video is over, Haskell is moved. He can't speak for a while. Then he says, in colorful language I won't use here, It's a great film; you are a fine film maker. Mark dissolves into weeping as their tears unite them in ties as deep as blood.

William Faulkner famously wrote, "The past is never dead. It's not even past." Part of our spiritual journey into wholeness and maturity is to make peace with our past. Part of that work is digging into our history and knowing our story and our ancestors' stories. We need to recognize how our lives have been profoundly shaped by our parents, and the sour grapes that are inevitably part of our inheritance. Then we need to stand alertly, courageously behind the camera, learning what we can learn. From a place of knowing, we can authentically choose who we will be. We can define ourselves consciously, rather than to continue living unconsciously in reaction to our past. We can shed the insecurities of childhood, and be authentic and whole adults.

Maybe that's one of the reasons why there is so much parental language in religious imagery. None of us had perfect fathers or perfect mothers. We all need more perfect love than we can possibly receive from the finite human beings who make up our family. So we speak of God the Father who comes to us with unconditional love and vitality. We speak of God the Son who comes to be with us to encourage and heal. We speak of Mother Church, Mother Earth, Mother Mary as the embracing love that nurtures us into the fullness of our being.

Our spiritual journey involves our liberation from the bondage of our past in order to be mature, freely responsible and whole in the present. Each of us is a child of God; unique and beloved. Each of us has been given a singular story and unique gifts that we may do our part to help Christ create a new future, redeeming in our time on the earth the little square inch we are given to tend, until creation is healed and reconciled, we are whole and real; and the Garden of Eden blooms anew.
_______________________________________________________

The Mission of St. Paul's Episcopal Church is to explore and celebrate
God's infinite grace, acceptance and love.

For information about St. Paul's Episcopal Church and it's life and mission, please contact us at
P.O. Box 1190, Fayetteville, AR 72702, or call 479/442-7373
More sermons are posted on our web site: www.stpaulsfay.org
Visit our web partners at www.explorefaith.org