Why isn’t God a smart businessman?
The landowner in our Gospel today (Matthew 21:33-43) is not the smartest of businessmen. He had planted vines and hedged the perimeter for security. He had already dug a wine press to process the grapes on-site, saving the hassle of hauling raw fruit through the Palestinian heat and paying usage fees at another facility. He had even constructed a tower to watch the fields, provide storage for the wine, and lodge the crew.
With all the high-capital investments completed, why not just hire a capable and commanding foreman to oversee daily laborers? Wouldn’t that guarantee a far higher return on investment? So why take the risk of leasing the vineyard—only to end up without a basket of grapes, a jar of wine, or a single denarius of profit?
But our Gospel today is not a lesson in economics, and our God does not merely desire to be a smart businessman. What looks like bad business logic in human terms is actually the astounding, vulnerable—even scandalous—wisdom of the Divine. This is a wisdom that prioritizes relationship over profit, trust over control, and freedom over forced compliance.
Why not just hire workers? Why lease the vineyard? Ask yourself: Would you rather be a paid hand or a lessee? A daily laborer simply does as he is told. He works for his wage and nothing more. If you held the lease, you would have a stake in the land. A lessee is invited to take initiative, dream bigger, and care for the harvest as if it were his own. God doesn’t want to be surrounded by mindless servants; he wants to enter into relationship with empowered stewards. God knows that a lessee is more.
Why did the landowner leave and go on a journey? Why not stay in the vineyard and keep a watchful eye on operations—so that the moment a tenant overstepped his bounds or showed a hint of rebellion, it could be nipped in the bud? Ask yourself: Would you want a micromanager for your God? Would you grow if divine wrath were constantly breathing down your neck? The landowner’s departure isn’t an act of abandonment; it is an expression of trust. God gives us space, the breathing room to flourish, the opportunities to grow, even if we sometimes grow by making mistakes.
When it was time to collect his share of the produce, the landowner sent messengers, but they were beaten, stoned, or killed. He sent even more messengers, only for them to suffer the exact same fate. So why on earth send his own son next? Why not dispatch a battalion of armed soldiers to seize what was rightfully his? This is because the Master’s desire is not to force people to pay their dues. From heaven, God sends his Son so that our eyes may be opened, and looking upon his generosity, we may freely choose righteousness.
In the Gospel according to Matthew, when the audience is presented with what seems like an ultimatum, “The kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that will produce its fruit,” it is not a threat. It is a desperate and loving plea. Jesus is trying to win people back by laying bare the ultimate consequences of their choices.
Two weeks ago, we heard the prophet Isaiah urge us, “Seek the Lord while he may be found; call him while he is near.” Will there ever come a time when God will be so far away that he can no longer be found? Yes. But this won’t be because the Lord will finally grow tired of us. It will be because our repeated rejections of God will callous our hearts to such a degree that we will become spiritually blind and deaf, unable to sense him even when he is closer than our next breath.
Your prayer assignment this week:
The tenants in our parable today were given all that they needed to have a bountiful harvest. The problem is they allowed the fruit of the field to consume them. It was never about the harvest. All they ever needed was to choose the Master of the vineyard.
Jack Wagner captured this tragic human predicament in his 80s hit:
All I need
Is just a little more time
To be sure what I feel
Is it all in my mind?
’Cause it seems so hard to believe
That you’re all I need
They had been equipped with everything, yet what were they asking for? More time to sort out their feelings? Or was it simply that they couldn’t bring themselves to believe that having the Master was enough?
In our Opening Prayer at Mass this week, we ask:
Almighty ever-living God, who in the abundance of your kindness surpass the merits and the desires of those who entreat you, pour out your mercy upon us to pardon what conscience dreads and to give what prayer does not dare to ask.
What is it that prayer does not dare to ask? Too often, we only mention our practical needs in prayer. But we miss out on our most important need. Reflect on Jack Wagner’s refrain and ask for the grace to need God most of all.
