Rev. Eugene N. Nelson, Jr.
The Community Church of Sebastopol
February 22, 2004
Matthew 20: 1-16
I was waiting to check bags at the Southwest check-in line, only to have those who arrived later than me be allowed to go ahead of me.
And then waiting at Fenton’s while those who came later than us get served first.
Yes, I think I know something of what those who had labored all day were thinking and feeling. They had suffered a double injustice: 1) They had been obliged to toil for twelve hours while the others only worked one hour. 2) They had worked under the heat of the midday sun, while the others, for their one hour, worked in the cool of the evening. I got up at the crack of dawn to wait in that line to check my bags. Those other losers probably slept through their alarm, got here late and yet they were allowed to go ahead of me! I know what those all-day workers were thinking. Who could blame them, after seeing the one-hour workers paid a full day’s wage, for thinking that they would certainly get a bonus. And who could blame them for being angry when they were paid the same as everyone else! “And they grumbled against the landowner…. ” I would have grumbled too.
I could spend a lot of time with these parables. The trouble is…this isn’t a parable about the workers who feel they have been dealt with unfairly; it isn’t a parable about me and all the times I have grumbled when someone has gotten something which I knew they didn’t deserve; it isn’t about all the times life has been unfair to me and anyone else. The focus of the parable is the landowner and his extravagant, reckless, uncalculating generosity and goodness. And in the behavior of that landowner, I believe we are invited to see something of the behavior of God – a God whose surprising, amazing grace just might subvert our notions of justice and what is fair. As one colleague has said, “Curious how my grace doesn’t exactly feel gracious when it’s your grace. Curious how the more amazing God’s grace becomes, the more grumbling it evokes.”
This is another one of those subversive, upside down, topsy-turvy teachings of Jesus. People are always saying that we ought to read the Bible more, that churches like ours need more Bible study, that it would be a good thing if we and our children were more familiar with the Bible. You get the feeling that if we would just spend a little more time with the Bible, we would all feel a lot better. And I am certainly not going to stand here and tell you we should spend less time with the Bible. Churches like ours really do need to get serious about being more biblically literate. But I am also going to say that our Bibles should probably come with warning labels. Because sometimes, when you’re reading the Bible, today for instance, you come across a story so strange, so unexpected, that it challenges and calls into question many of your cherished suppositions.
A bunch of guys work faithfully in the field all day; another group who have been hanging out in the town square all day show up and work an hour, again in the cool of the evening. And everyone gets paid the same. This is justice? Could it be that our ways are not God’s ways. In the words of Willimon: “Here sits a ticking bomb in the middle the Gospel of Matthew. This little parable is not a story about how God helps those who help themselves. It is not a call to do good so that good might be done to us. It is not (and I heard Jerry Falwell preach it this way not long ago) a story of how employers ought not to be limited by governmental regulations regarding fair treatment of employees. There is no lesson for us to learn or put into practice to make the world a better place to live…Here is a story about God – a story of how God’s grace is so surprising, so beyond our comprehension or appropriation as to be downright exasperating. Any lesson of the story, if you are looking for a lesson, is that God’s ways often make the world a surprising, sometimes confusing place in which to live. And if we don’t like hearing such stories, we best not bother with Jesus.”
Politicians do it, preachers do it, I suspect we all do it…. We all want the Bible, our faith, Jesus himself, to bless and affirm our values, our assumptions about life and the world. Depending on our social and political views, we want Jesus to bless free market capitalism, we want Jesus to bless environmental activism, I want Jesus to bless efforts for affordable housing in Sebastopol. Trouble is, as this parable makes clear, Jesus really isn’t inclined to bend to our agendas. He would much rather bend us to his.
And so in this parable we meet a landowner who is monumentally impractical. It’s not a practical guide for how to manage a vineyard or a business. It’s an effort to fracture so thoroughly our expectations, our customary patterns of practicality, that we are forced to think new thoughts – new thoughts about ourselves, about other people, and about God. And that makes it a tough parable for me and, I suspect, many of us in this congregation. We are not here because we are shirkers. We are here because, on the whole, we are conscientious, dependable, hardworking, high achievers who have been laboring in the vineyard since early morning. We didn’t get where we are by relying on grace. We did it the old fashioned way…we earned it. We all know – and no doubt have told our kids – that if you fool around the whole semester and wait until the night before the exam to open your books, then you’re going to pay for it. And that’s as it should be. Don’t come whining to me. But then we run into this parable. It is what the reformers called the verbum externum – the external word, the alien, unexpected word, that cuts into us from without, presenting us with a vision of grace which is utterly beyond our human powers of comprehension or acceptance.
United Church of Christ minister, Anthony Robinson, writes, “When I was discussing this parable with a group in my congregation one person observed, ‘What is so powerful about this text is its challenge to the incredibly thick soup of meritocratic assumptions we all live in.’ He went on to observe that there is value in fair play. But when the focus is single-mindedly on a ‘you get what you deserve’ calculus, some truth about ourselves and some element of humanity seems at risk.” Concludes Robinson, “When our only measure is fairness, when our preoccupation is our just desserts, we lose touch with a sense of grace and graciousness. We forget about the people who love us more than we deserve, and the God who has extended generosity and forgiveness to us. Many have commented in recent years about the hard edge of anger building up in our society. Could it be that when life is reduced to ‘you-get-what-you-deserve’ and to economic values alone, hearts contract and compassion and kindness dry up? Perhaps knowing ourselves as receivers of astonishing mercy is what opens our hearts and our hands to others.”
It might be that the story of this recklessly generous landowner is so difficult for me because finally it forces me to look at myself and my life. Yes, I like to think of myself as one of those full-day workers, responsible and hard working. I deserve what I get! I earned it! Or could it be that in fact I have been blessed and forgiven far beyond what I have any right or reason to expect? Could it be that I, and all of us, are much more like those last-hour workers than we would ever care to acknowledge or admit? Could it be that if God really gave us what we deserve, it might not be so pleasant?
I read this parable and my first reaction is to grumble about such undeserved grace. Not fair! I read it again and begin to realize my own need for God’s “undeserved” grace – my own need for transformation and renewal, a transformation and renewal I may not be able to pull off on my own. Says N.T professor, Thomas Long, “Suddenly we see plainly the true poverty of the first-hour workers. Everybody in the parable is tendered with the wealth of the kingdom; the deep river of providence flows through everybody’s life. God gives everyone a daily wage so extravagant that no one could ever spend it all. A deluge of grace descends on all; torrents of joy and blessing fall everywhere. And there these first-hour workers stand, drenched in God’s mercy, clutching their little contracts and grumbling that they deserve more rain.”
What time do you think it is… really? I’m thinking that it is about 5:00 in the afternoon. I’ve been kind of standing around, not clear where I should go or what I should do, just kind of getting by. Suddenly I realize I am not alone. I am in the presence of another - one who seems to know me, all about me. And an invitation is issued: “Why are you standing here by yourself? Come along. You are included too.” And everything depends on how I choose to respond.