Naboth’s Vineyard
Proper 6C
1 Kings 21:1-21a
June 16, 2013
Rev. John M.
Caldwell, PhD
1st United Methodist Church
Decorah, IA
Once upon a time there was a Jezreelite who lived in
Jezreel, the story begins. That’s odd,
we think, Why does the story need to tell us that a Jezreelite lived in
Jezreel, any more that we would say that a Omahan lives in Omaha? The story-teller means to alert us right away
to an important fact: the Jezreelite, whose name is Naboth, lives in the place where
his ancestors have lived. He is where
his people have been. Was he tempted to
seek his fortune somewhere else? We
don’t know. We just know that whenever
he was faced with the decision of whether to “sit or flit”—as the Scots used to
say—he chose to sit, to stay where he was, on his ancestral land.
Once upon a time there was a Jezreelite named Naboth who
lived in Jezreel and he owned a vineyard.
Or did he? Ownership implies that
the vineyard was his to do with as he pleased.
He could produce wine, as he was doing, or he could produce something
else, or he could sell the land to whoever offered a price that pleased
him. Ownership meant that the land was
his property, like a shirt or a clay pot.
That might be the way that we think about land. If we like the place, we buy the land and we
build a house on it. If we no longer
like the place, we sell the land and go somewhere else. If the land appreciates in value we can cash
out. If it appreciates enough we will
cash out. Everything has its price. Enough money would compensate us for the loss
of a place.
Once upon a time there was a king of Israel named Ahab, who
also believed that money should be able to compensate for the loss of place. Ahab was expanding his palace at
Jezreel. He wanted Naboth’s
vineyard. Ahab planned to do a lot of
entertaining and he needed more garden space for his kitchens.
So Ahab went to Naboth with a very good offer: “Naboth, my good fellow, today is your lucky
day. I need more garden space and your
vineyard is in the perfect spot for it. You
know what they say—Location, location, location. I’ll give you a much better vineyard in
exchange for yours. Or, if you’re ready
to give up the wine-making business, I’ll buy it from you for cash money. Name your price!”
Ahab was a once upon a time king, but he had a modern
mindset. He could not imagine that
anyone in their right mind would respond the way Naboth responded: “Yahweh
forbid that I should give you my ancestral inheritance.” No deal.
Keep your money.
Where Ahab saw real estate and deeds and bills of
purchase and monetary value, Naboth saw something entirely different. Naboth saw a covenant. “Yahweh forbid,” Naboth said, because this
matter of land did not lay between buyer and seller. It had to do with Yahweh, the God of Naboth’s
ancestors who was, apparently, Naboth’s God as well.
Yahweh had promised the land to Abraham and Sarah, do you
remember? Yahweh promised the land as an
inheritance that Yahweh would give to their descendants, among which
Naboth numbered himself. It was a gift,
this land. Under the terms of this gift,
the land did not belong to Naboth. It
belonged to a line of descent that stretched from his distant ancestors in the
past to his distant descendants in the future.
He and his family were to care for the land. The land—that land in that
place—was to support him and his family—past, present and future. He and the land were in covenant with each
other and that covenant relationship between Naboth and his vineyard was in
turn part of the covenant between Yahweh and Yahweh’s people. “Yahweh forbid,” said Naboth, because Yahweh
had in fact forbidden it.
Ahab was like a lot of people today: he knew the
covenant, but he liked to forget it. He
was a king. What’s the use of being king
if you can’t get what you want now and then?
How could he be expected to make do with the land of his ancestors? The covenant was all well and good for once
upon a time, but Ahab much preferred being able to convert the value of
everything into money so that it could be bought and sold as a commodity and so
that his money could buy anything he wanted.
But in Naboth, Ahab—king or not—met someone he could not
impress or buy. In Naboth Ahab met a man
in covenant with Yahweh and with the land that Yahweh had given his
ancestors. Naboth would not budge and
Ahab knew that as soon as Naboth said, “Yahweh forbid!” So Ahab went away sulking.
Kings are accustomed to getting their own way and so
sulking is not something that he had a lot of practice doing and he wasn’t very
good at it. But he gave it his best
shot: he lay on his bed with his face to the wall and refused to eat.
Perhaps Ahab would have gotten over his snit on his own;
perhaps not. As it happened, his wife
Jezebel came to him and said, “Tell me what’s going on.” So Ahab did that and Jezebel responded, “Am I
married to the king or not? Who’s in
charge here anyway? Well, never mind
about that, dear, just leave it to me.” So
Ahab stopped pouting.
In our story Jezebel is an entire stranger to
Yahweh. She knows nothing about Yahweh
and cares even less. Her gods are gods
of production and control. They don’t
care about covenants or ancestors or stupid vineyards or anything else standing
in the way of progress. And neither did
Jezebel. So she arranged for trumped up
charges of blasphemy and treason to be brought against Naboth. She got the justice she had paid for and
Naboth was executed by stoning. Jezebel
went to Ahab and said, “Problem solved. Naboth
is dead. Go check out your new garden
plot.” “Yippy, skippy!” cried Ahab and
went down to look at the vineyard that used to be Naboth’s. End of story.
The rich and the powerful get what they want and there isn’t much that
any of us can do about it.
Or do they? There
is a character in the story who has not yet been heard from, a character whom
Naboth invoked, a character of whom Jezebel is ignorant, a character whom Ahab
preferred to forget.
Yahweh has seen this injustice and will not keep
silent. Yahweh sent Elijah the prophet
to confront Ahab—that wayward child of the covenant—with Yahweh’s
displeasure. No, let’s just say it the
way it is. Elijah goes to speak Yahweh’s
angry rejection of Ahab’s policies and even of Ahab himself.
This is hard for us.
We think of God as merciful and loving.
And that is true. But love and
mercy are notions that only make sense in the midst of justice. Without God’s passionate commitment to
justice we are left with “sloppy agape.”
A god who is not just is a god who sides with the powerful and the rich even
when they use their power and wealth to oppress the poor and the weak. God has a vision for creation that includes
doing justice. Those who do justice will
find themselves on God’s side. Those who
refuse to do justice will find that God rejects not only what they do but also
rejects them. In short, those who refuse
to pay attention to the demands of God’s justice will find themselves on
receiving end of God’s wrath.
This is what Ahab discovered when Elijah found him. “Have you killed and also taken possession?” said
Elijah in Yahweh’s name, “In the place where dogs licked up the blood of
Naboth, dogs will also lick up your blood.
Because you have sold yourself to do what is evil in the sight of
Yahweh, I will bring disaster on you; I will consume you.”
Against Ahab Elijah utters the final judgment pronounced
on a consumer society. When everything
becomes a commodity to be bought and sold, traded, exploited and, eventually,
consumed, then Ahab himself will become a commodity and he will be consumed. Ahab is the man who knows—in Oscar Wilde’s
memorable phrase—“the price of everything and the value of nothing.”
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