Thoughts on the Gospel for the 25th Sunday of Ordinary Time: The fairness of Love

 

And on receiving it they grumbled against the landowner, saying,

'These last ones worked only one hour,

and you have made them equal to us,

who bore the day's burden and the heat.'

 

--Matthew 20: 1-16

 

 

There is something quite comforting in the argument for fairness.  It asserts an equilibrium in the world that often doesn’t appear to be there, but that we think should.  The argument for fairness in any situation implies that there is a minimum to what we deserve: at least what is fair.  And what we see in this week’s parable from Matthew 20, is a story of fairness turned on its head.  It is exactly the ones who are demanding it, who have already received fairness.  They received a fair day’s wages, mutually agreed upon before they went to work. And yet, when they see that others have received the same amount for less work, they feel cheated.  They –in a sense—regret their agreement, regret the terms of their contract—so to speak-- and allow themselves to hope for more; then, in their disappointment, they complain about “fairness.”

 

Why? Because none of us truly wants what is fair.  We want something more, we want abundance, we want something like grace.  Perhaps even charity.  But we hide behind a word like “fair,” because it seems safe.  It announces that we are only asking for what we think we deserve, what we feel we have earned—what is fair.

 

But the thing is, life isn’t fair.  And—my thought is: we should be grateful.  I remember a night back in 1981-82, when I was driving home from work late at night.  I think it was when I worked backstage at the Best Little Whorehouse in Texas.  (I like writing that.  Actually, I was working backstage at the Tower Theater, but that was the show they were putting on when I worked there.) Anyway, I was driving home about midnight on a Friday night after a long day at UST, and then a long night guarding the stage door at the Best Little Whorehouse… And as I drove down Memorial Drive in my old white Honda Civic (a stick shift, no AC, and only an AM radio), I remember stopping at the light at Memorial and Westcott.  I pulled up right next to a police car with 2 policemen already waiting at the light.  I looked over and nodded to them. One of them nodded back. I sat there for a bit, and then something happened, maybe I was changing the radio. KILT used to broadcast a concert from Gilley’s on the radio and maybe I had been listening to it and when it went off I probably started to change the channel, looking for something else. Anyway, clearly I got distracted and for some reason put the car in gear, let off the clutch and slowly and brainlessly drove right through the still red light --with a police car sitting right next to me. Very quickly I realized what I had done and slowed down as I expected the police car to flip on its lights and pull up beside me. But, instead after about 20-30 yards, the cruiser pulled beside me and one of the officers rolled down his window and gave me a tsk tsk gesture and a silly grin. Then, shaking their heads and laughing they drove on. Fair?  I should have been pulled over and given a ticket.  But, out of kindness, out of compassion, out of grace, the officers simply let me off with a very gentle warning.

 

None of us really wants what is fair. We want grace, we want compassion, we want love. We want to know that we were noticed and that we mattered.  We want to be appreciated so much that someone would give their life for us, if it came to that. We want the love of God to overwhelm us, because—and I think this might secretly be true of a great many of us—we don’t feel like we deserve it.

 

And so, in our insecurity, too many of us resent it when another person receives abundance and seemingly undeserved blessings. We resent the new employee who receives kudos and honors their first month on the job when we have done our job for years and never felt praised or even particularly noticed.

 

And yet, there is another element to this parable that might too easily be overlooked.  Like many parable, it begins with these words: The kingdom of Heaven is like…

 

The Kingdom of Heaven is like this… It’s not a place of fairness.  It is a place of blessing.  It is a place wherein the first will be last and the last will be first. What we must learn to realize is this: if that is what the Kingdom of Heaven is like—then that is a good thing, and we must learn to see the world, through that lens, we must learn to see our own life through that lens.  We must learn from the parable to refocus our attention on the truth.  Grace isn’t about fairness, grace isn’t about getting what we deserve, our fair share; grace is about love and if we just look at the Cross, we will get a beautiful reminder of how much fairness matters to God. 

 

The Kingdom of Heaven is like… a place where everyone is welcome, no matter when or how they come, and all will receive the same thing, in the same amount: the Love of God, overflowing, more than we could have ever imagined, or even hoped for.  Because God isn’t fair, God is love.

The parable of the wages: envy & the generosity of God

“These last ones worked only one hour,
and you have made them equal to us
who bore the burden of the day and the heat…”
--Matthew 20: 1-16

Is Heaven a place of reward where if we have faith and if we live right we will receive our prize –our just wage?  Is that what this parable is about? Or is Christ teaching us something else? Something about the Kingdom of God that transcends our idea of “reward?”

Sunday at mass, the priest spoke of Heaven as the just wages of those who have faith, and then he kind of wandered off on a tangent about John Wayne (yes –that John Wayne) having a death-bed conversion.  And there was a brief interlude in his homily about death-bed conversions and how that is all it takes to earn your reward, like those laborers who came only at the last hour and yet received a full wage.   This insight, troubles me.  Not that it isn’t true, but that it feels like the wrong approach to the lesson at hand. For instance, if a death-bed conversion is all it takes to earn an eternal reward in Heaven –why on earth should I bother with morality and devotion and self-sacrifice –especially in my adolescences, and then there’s my twenties and thirties –when I’m trying to explore and experience life (and maybe forties and fifties, when it’s time to savor some of… oh dear…)? Anyway, shouldn’t I just wait for my death-bed and offer myself to Christ then?  To paraphrase Jesus, there’d be a lot more celebrating in heaven with the conversion of such a sinner (cf. Luke 15:7)!  So, it seems like a win-win!  And yet, I know that this isn’t the right approach.

Do you see why this parable has always troubled me?

There is something valid in the complaints of the workers who have worked in the heat of the day.  They have borne the brunt of the work, and the owner will earn the better part of his profit due to their effort. And yet, of course, the owner is right: they have no reason to complain. They received the wages they agreed to.  Still… something else seems to be happening here. Which, of course, is why I am still writing.

If we come at this parable from a different point of view, we might learn something not only about the question of laborers, vineyards and rewards, but also –and more importantly—about the Kingdom of Heaven. 

For the kingdom of heaven is like unto a man
that was a householder, who went out early
in the morning to hire laborers into his vineyard. –Matthew 20:1

This is a story not about just wages, or generosity or envious workers; it is about the Kingdom of Heaven.  To me this is key. We are getting a glimpse of Heaven through the words of Jesus. Heaven is a place of generosity, and envy has no place in Heaven, that is another of the key lessons I think we can all agree on.  But, for me, that envy is still an important part of this story.  And why is that envy so important? Because through the laborer’s envy we catch a glimpse of where the Kingdom of Heaven isn’t found.  Clearly, it isn’t in the wages.  And so, we must ask ourselves what image of the Kingdom of Heaven is Jesus offering us here?  I propose that it has something to do not with the wages, and not with the number of hours the laborers work in the vineyard, but instead with our acceptance of the call. 

I think Jesus is showing us that the Kingdom of Heaven isn’t about a reward we receive either for a life lived well or for a death-bed conversion.  If the Kingdom of Heaven is a reward that we receive at the end of our life, then we are back to the question of: why bother with morality or justice or sacrifice during the 4 score years allotted us? Why not wait and claim your golden ticket during your last hours? Life will be easier, and you get the same wage as those who fasted and prayed every day for 75 years –so, why not?  Why not? Because the reward isn’t paid at the end, perhaps it isn’t paid at all.  What if our focus on the laborers and the wages was all wrong to begin with?  What if the Kingdom of heaven was like a man who went out and called people to work in his vineyard?  What if the Kingdom of Heaven isn’t symbolized by the wages but by the call?  And what if the laborers who are being envious are not simply a portrait of people who missed the point, but a portrait of Christians who missed their call?

Why should we take up our cross and follow Christ?  Because if we do, if we endure this suffering now, we will receive a great reward at the end?  Maybe… But what if it’s because that is the reward? What if the reward is the Cross?  

“Blessed are you when they revile and persecute you,

and say all kinds of evil against you falsely for My sake.

Rejoice and be exceedingly glad, for great is your

reward in heaven…” –Matthew 5: 11-13

What if our reward for a faithful life lived well isn’t eternal streets of gold, harp music and an all-you-can-eat buffet that always has fresh crab-cakes and plenty of shrimp?  What if our reward is found in living that life?  What if the real lesson of this parable isn’t that we shouldn’t question the generosity of God, but that we need to learn to recognize it?  Whether you are waiting for a death-bed conversion or going to mass every morning, I’m saying: don’t wait around in hopes of some future reward?  The reward is at hand. Seize it. Live it.  If you look closely at the model of Jesus, I think you will see: the reward isn’t in the wages –it is in the life; it is in the laboring; just as the glory of God was revealed not on a throne, but on the cross.  The workers who were envious were wrong, not because they wanted more than the workers hired at the end of the day, but because they were too blind with envy to see what they had already received. They had been given a full day in the vineyard. A whole day working for God. If you had the choice, where would you rather be? Standing around on a street corner waiting to be called? Or working in the vineyard of the Lord?  What if the generosity the landowner speaks of isn’t just revealed by the denarius he pays to the late workers; what if it also found in the call he gives the first?