This week’s Gospel (Matthew 21:33-end) has, sadly, a shadow side in church history of anti-semitism. Whilst this may not be a suitable central Sunday morning theme, grasping uncomfortable nettles is sometimes necessary if we are to avoid repeating past mistakes. So in tandem with my talk on what an amazing gift that the Kingdom is to the church, I just wanted to touch on what else might the passage may say to us.

During my military service I saw at first hand how a sacred symbol (the cross with its four Cyrillic letters that look like C’s) could be taken up in the cause of nationalism and associated with violence that culminated in genocide. I do not raise this in an accusatory fashion, least of all the faithful of the Orthodox Church with whom I have much love and respect, but to be honest about how easily faith and national identity can become dangerously entangled if we allow them to, and the tragedies that can follow when they reach the extremities of position. I also experienced this closer to home across sectarian divides, and this week, as familiar troubles sadly re-emerge, I have been prayerfully reflecting upon this portion of Matthew’s Gospel in the light of these formative experiences as a young adult.

In Matthew 21, Jesus tells a story about a group of tenants that have been given a beautifully prepared vineyard; planted, fenced, equipped, and entrusted to them to look after for their master. But then we read that somehow, from this place of fortune, trust and abundance, something goes terribly wrong, leading them to behave as if the vineyard were something that they had the right to seize for themselves. What began as joyful entrustment became reduced to bitter self entitlement. Hands that had at one time gratefully received, now gripped tightly, choking the very gift that had been intended to bring life for the whole community.

I keep wondering what the tenants were afraid of, and ask myself whether I have ever held on to something so tightly, that I had forgotten that it was a merely a gift to steward for the sake of others?

Many Christians are increasingly asking how faith and national identity can belong together. Loving your country is no sin; I love my country. Gratitude for home, landscape, history, tradition and for the people who have shaped it is both natural and good. Christians have always had a place in public life, serving, speaking up for the vulnerable and working for the common good. So where might the tension between our faith and our national identity lie?

Part of the answer is perhaps to notice to whom the kingdom is given to in the parable: “a people” producing its fruits. Not one nation, but a people drawn from every tribe and tongue, held together by a cornerstone rather than a border. When Jesus was offered all the kingdoms of the world, he declined them. What does that refusal tell us about the kind of kingdom he came to bring? If the kingdom is a gift, then perhaps it needs no defending by force. Perhaps it only asks for open hands, a welcome for the stranger and fruit that tastes of God’s goodness?

But what do we then do with passages like 1 Timothy 1:18 & 6:12 where Paul encourages Timothy to “wage the good warfare” and “fight the good fight of faith”. For some, this suggests that crusader flags have a contemporary relevance, and yet thinking back to my early adult life, where much wisdom was found in the work of Sun Tzu, I’m not so sure.

“If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.”

― Sun Tzu, The Art of War

For if we know ourselves to be the beloved of God, stewards of an everlasting Kingdom, the fruits of the one victory that can never be undone. And if we know our enemy (sin) to be defeated, as we work for the fulness of that victory to become apparent in our own lives, and the effect of that to become apparent in the lives of those we serve, we can rest assured that the banner that is flown about our heads, one of love, is truly enough.