Besides olives and grapes, the master of the vineyard also grew raspberries.  He established a fine raspberry plantation, and then went on a church mission to Vanuatu.

And it came to pass that a long time passed away.  When the master of the vineyard returned, he was grieved to find that his raspberry plantation had become corrupted.  The main part had grown so exceedingly that it was impossible to get down the rows.  The Taylor variety had overgrown the trellises and had broken them down making an impassible tangle.

The Lauren variety on the west of the patch was in two spindly rows.  Half of the plants had died, and the remaining canes were weak and broken.

Worst of all were the Heritage raspberries at the north end of the plantation.  They were choked and nearly overcome by tansy, a pestiferous weed.  The master of the vineyard loved his Heritage raspberries because they bore large fruit for many weeks after the other varieties had ceased to bear.

“It grieves me that I should lose this plantation and the fruit thereof,” he said unto his family.  “Let us go down into the patch and prune it.”

His grandchildren came, and together they pruned the main part of the plantation.  The dead and unruly canes were lopped off and thrown into huge piles which were burned.  The only canes that were left were those that were upright and that obediently grew in their narrow rows.  These were properly trellised between two wires to insure that they stayed upright and obedient.

The master of the vineyard and his servants, the grandchildren, were exceedingly pleased with the results.  Where they had before been unable to penetrate the jungle, they were now able to stroll down the neat aisles between the rows.  In a short time the servants would be able to return, to harvest fruit, and to earn much money from the sale thereof.

But the master of the vineyard said unto his wife, “It still grieves me that I should lose the Lauren and the Heritage varieties.  I will tell you what I will do.  I will take the good canes of Lauren from the west row, and will transplant them into the bare spaces of the second row.  I will trellis the second row, and then I will have one good row of Laurens.

“I will spray Roundup in the first row, and will turn it into a good seedbed into which I will transplant the Heritage plants.  Then I will spray the tansy weed and eliminate it from the place.”

So the master of the vineyard worked long, and implemented his plan.  To excise each Heritage cane from among the tansy, he dug around each plant with his shovel.  He seemed to hear the plants crying out in pain, “You’re severing me from my roots.  You’re taking me from my kindred.  You will kill me.”

But the master of the vineyard replied, “I am severing you from your roots to take you away from the traditions of your fathers which are not correct.  I am taking you to a promised land where there is no tansy.  You will be able to grow freely, and to bring forth much fruit.”

It was an affliction for the Heritage canes to be severed from their roots, and to be transported far away.  But when planted in their promised land, they were well-watered and weed-free.  They grew exceedingly, and were a credit to the rest of the well-ordered raspberry plantation.  They extended the season of fruit by a full month.

The master of the vineyard was well-pleased with the results of his labors, and harvested much fruit for a long time.

The remainder of the vineyard from which the Heritage canes had been cast out was left without their protective influence, and was sprayed and killed.