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?

What's in your ark?

“The waters swelled, lifting the ark
until it floated off the ground…”  -Genesis 7:17b

The ark floated off the ground.  It rose up –and then, as the waters rose, swelling, it floated away.  The ark is what survives the flood. The ark and all that is in it. So, what we put in the ark is very important.  And I am pondering now… what have I put in my ark?

Think back to the original story. What did God have Noah put in his ark? Two of every living thing, male and female.  All life. All living things. Basically, God told Noah to value life; every living thing, from the wisest owl to the dumbest ox, from the mighty elephant to the lowly mouse, predator and prey—all living things. Life itself. Put it in your ark! Protect it. Value it. And when the flood waters came and the ark floated of the ground, that was what was saved. Life itself, that was what was in Noah’s ark.  What is in your ark?  That’s what I am asking myself these days. Like that commercial—What’s in your wallet?

What’s in your ark?  I think that is a question I couldn’t have imagined before this flood. Without the surreal experience of the past few days, I wouldn’t have realized the importance of this very basic, very essential question.

Yesterday we went back to Carol’s house (my mother-in-law).  We wanted to see if the water had gone down and we could get into her house and salvage a few things. Instead we learned that the water had risen. The knee-deep water from Sunday was now perhaps waist or even chest deep in places. And, while he was checking our ID, the policeman who was there told us to be careful. An alligator had been spotted in the water on one of the streets.  So, instead of going into her house we stood around –about ½ a mile away—just staring at the vastness of the water and thinking about all the things we should have got out of the house on Sunday morning –when we still had the chance.  And astonished that this is what our world had come to –the flood waters rose, they swelled, and there was nothing we could do about it…

But standing there, we were approached by a City of Houston worker who had just been talking to another woman. He came over to us and asked us where our house was.  Lynne explained to him she was hoping to get into her mother’s house but it was too deep. He asked for the address and she told him and he handed her his phone. He said there were pictures on it of all the houses on the flooded streets.  He told her she could look through the pictures and send any that were helpful to herself. At least you’ll have that for insurance purposes, he said. He showed her how to navigate through the pictures and how to select them and send one to herself. Then he left his phone with her and walked away to check on someone else.  When she finally found a picture, it was frightening. The water looked like it was over halfway up the front wall of the house. Maybe 5 feet deep.

As we stood there, a few other neighbors were gathering nearby and staring at the water with us and another man and his small boy came over and asked if any of us wanted to borrow his canoe and go in and take pictures of our houses.  He said someone else had just borrowed it, but when that person got back we could take a turn.  His little boy, maybe 8 years old, offered to go for us if we didn’t know how to paddle a canoe.  

Think about that: all over Houston in small and great and even heroic ways people are offering help, even putting their own lives at risk to help one another.

“The flood waters swelled, lifting the ark until it floated…”

What are you you putting in your ark?

The other side of this is: as we drove up to try and check on my mother-in-law’s house, the policeman was there at the barricade checking IDs. Certainly, he might have been there to make sure no one accidentally drove into the waters; protecting us from our own foolishness. Wen he told us about the alligator we laughed.  He didn’t.  I suspect, more than anything, he was there to protect the almost abandoned neighborhood from looters.  The news keeps warning us about looters and scammers who are coming to these troubled places to take advantage of a horrible situation.

“The flood waters swelled, and the ark floated off the ground…”

When the flood waters swell, your ark will begin to float… what will be in it?

There is another ark in the Bible. The one that Moses builds. In the days of Noah and the flood, God tells Noah to place all living things in it.  In the days of the Exodus, He had Moses build another Ark as a dwelling place for His own presence among His people. Put the thing you value most in the ark. Life. God… What do you value most?

In both places God gives pretty detailed directions for the ark’s construction; He is clearly concerned with the making of the Ark. But I think that may be because He is even more concerned with what we put inside it.  And because He knows that the floodwaters are coming. They always do.  And God knows that whatever we put in that ark, that is what will survive the flood.   That is what will begin to float when the flood waters swell.  What are you putting in your ark?  Yesterday my wife gave the keys to one of our cars to a friend who had to be rescued in the middle of the night from her flooding house.   And before that she learned that a neighbor needed formula her baby and we were off to the store.  What will survive your flood? Faith, love, generosity, kindness, compassion, courage, a reassuring smile? or will it be: selfishness, greed, cunning and hate?   In Houston, mostly we have seen only the good –but in places, sadly, we have seen all of these floating in the flood waters around us.

Like the commercial asks: What’s in your ark?

We are doing pretty well: Houston, Harvey & the great flood of 2017

“The waters swelled, lifting the ark until it floated

off the ground…The waters rose, swelling higher

above the ground, and the ark drifted away

over the waters.”        --Genesis 7:17b-18

     
We are doing pretty well. House is dry so far and we still have power and potato chips. We are doing pretty well. So many people were hit so much worse. My mother-in-law, for instance, has lost her house. She’s staying with us now. And her two cats. That makes five here, plus the 20 or more turtles that came inside to avoid being drowned by the flood. But, all in all, we are doing pretty well. You hear so many people say that these past few days. Ask how they are doing and you hear: Pretty good. Could’a been worse. Had to evacuate the house, but everybody got out. Including the pets. Neighbors helped us. Or: Some guy with a boat –never seen him before-- just pulled up and offered to give us a hand. We’re doing well. Blessed. How about you?

My confession: I didn’t take all of this very seriously. My daughter and I were shaking our heads with knowing smirks at all the TV meteorologists and their continuous panic mongering. So, my prep for the storm was to buy bottles of water, a fresh can of coffee, some ice-cream, a few bags of chips, and some extra peanut butter. My plan was to be ready for a few hours without electricity when we might have to survive on pb&j and chips, and be forced to eat ice cream that was about to melt!! That was Friday on our way home from school.

Then, Saturday morning I started to get a little worried. What if we didn’t have enough chips? So, I got up early and rushed to HEB and was a little stunned to discover a huge line of people (back to the dairy section) waiting to check out and not a cart to be had. Apparently, a good number of other people were taking this thing much more seriously than I was: almost every cart in line had at least a 12 pack of beer and a stack of frozen pizzas. I forced my way through the line –a man on a mission-- and came to one of the most horrifying sights a man can ever see: an almost empty chip aisle. Standing there, looking over the remaining 4 or 5 bags of chips –an assortment of low-fat flavor-free puffs and crispy things that resembled an actual chip about as much as a bat resembles a cow. I made a choice. Got in line --back by the yogurt and cream cheese-- and suddenly realized I might need some dip and some beer to go with my gluten-free salted veggie puffs. FEMA! Where were you?

Thinking about it, I was a lot like one of those people who were busy eating, drinking, and marrying right up to the moment Noah went into the ark (Luke 17:27). And then came Sunday morning. I was planning to get up and drive to church (despite the rain) but there was a call shortly before 7. My wife answered. It was her mother, who never calls early. She was calling from the second floor of a neighbor’s house. The storm was real. And it was worse than we could have ever expected. She had 18 inches of water in her house –and it was still rising. My wife got me out of bed and told me what was happening. She needed me to get dressed and go rescue her mom and her 2 cats. As I was dressing we got another call, from a friend/neighbor who was checking on us. She offered her husband and his SUV to get us through the high water. I can’t tell you how glad I was to have his help. I wanted to be brave, but I wasn’t sure I could do it on my own; I needed help.

God bless the outstretched hand in an hour of need. I have to say that Xander (the friend’s husband) was exactly what I needed that Sunday morning. Like an angel sent from God he arrived with his big car and his big heart and his eagerness to do whatever he could to help. It wasn’t until we got to Memorial Bend that we realized how truly bad things were. There were traffic barrels on the Sam Houston feeder blocking our way into the neighborhood . Where I might have hesitated and turned around, my guardian angel simply went around them and kept going.

He was able to get his car about 1/3 of a mile from her house before the water got too deep. Luckily, someone from the neighborhood (another guardian angel) had come out and blocked the street with garbage cans to warn drivers about the high water. Without hesitation Xander got out of the car and we started into the water which just covered our shoes at first, then our ankles and then up to our calves. Ahead of us were a couple of early morning sight seers wading through knee deep water, as they crossed the street. They smiled and shook their heads: You guys okay? You need help? Thanks, we’re okay. Shaking their heads and laughing, Doing pretty well, considering.

We kept going, walking on the lawns close to the houses, and high in the driveways where the water was shallower. When we got to my mother-in-law’s house the water in her front yard was almost knee deep. We had come bearing a pet carrier, a couple of tote bags and a pair of rainboots. As she opened the door, I had the instinctual notion that she should be careful opening the door. She didn’t want to let the water in the house. But, in fact she was standing there in almost knee deep water on the inside of her house, slides from a photo box floating in the water around her. That was when it finally hit me. This wasn’t just a wild adventure. This was a nightmare in real life.

Inside the house, the carpet billowed up and down with each step. Furniture was overturned where the rising water had lifted it and tipped it over. Following her toward the cats I walked through the living room and out of the corner of my eye caught a glimpse of something strange. I was anxious about snakes, so I was watching for anything that might move. But it wasn't a snake. It was a cucumber. A long thin cucumber wrapped in cellophane. It bobbed in the water beside the TV set, near the beautiful floor to ceiling windows that used to look out upon her beautiful deck and all the trees and the hill sloping down to Rummel Creek, but now looked out upon nothing but water it seemed.

Without too much trouble we got the cats into the carrier and Xander volunteered to carry them to the car. He figured I would need to focus on helping my mother-in-law through the water. So, he took off, and she got the rain boots on (which almost immediately were filled with water) and we grabbed a couple of things (medicine, an extra pair of paints and a shirt), and followed. It was strange how calm she was. Standing in that flooded house, she glanced around to see if there was any final thing she needed to do. As if we were just leaving for a little trip and she wanted to make sure she hadn’t left the coffee maker on; something like that.

When we got back to the car, we found Xander desolate and clearly anxious. The rain was coming down harder now and he needed to get back to his family before his own street flooded, but he was desperately upset that one of the cats had broken the door off the carrier and gotten away. And he couldn’t do anything to catch it because he had to hold onto the other one. He couldn’t even find the broken door of the carrier which sank in the water. Now the broken carrier and the remaining cat were in the car (somewhere) and it was clear that we needed to just go.

Oddly, the cat who stayed in the carrier was George (the one who bites) and the one who escaped was Gracie –the sweeter one. It was just one more devastation on a dreadful and desperate morning. But, we all assured Xander that it wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t do anything to stop the cat from running away and he was still our hero. We owed him only thanks and blamed him for nothing. He was truly an angel for us –a hand outstretched in our hour of need.

             “The waters rose and that ark lifted off the ground…”

Later that morning, the rain slowing down, one of my daughters (Lucia) asked me if we could go look for Gracie. I put back on my rain soaked shoes, and my wet jeans –we grabbed a Sterlite container to hold the cat and we headed back out. Thanks to Xander, I didn’t hesitate when I came to those barrels. I drove around and right back into the neighborhood. Stopping at the garbage cans again, there were more people out, just staring dumbfounded at what had been their quiet, well-manicured neighborhood. We asked them if they had seen a grayish cat. No one had. They asked how we were doing? We told them we were doing pretty well. No flood in our neighborhood –but we’d lost one of Grammy’s cats.

Someone asked if we had seen the sinkhole. We didn’t know what they meant. But as it turned out, the tollway feeder was closed because part of the wall down to the tollway below had broken off and the water was rushing down turning the tollway into a vast lake.

We were doing pretty well, but we were missing a cat and my wife’s childhood home.  Her mother had lived there for over 50 years, her father had died there, and now her memories billowed and bobbed in the waters of the flood. We had no idea what might come next. Only prayers, and the need to find that cat.

As we waded back into the waters, I told Lucia to stay up on the lawns closer to the houses, the water wasn’t as deep there (most of the time). But she was still walking the sidewalk in water up to her shins when she called out: I found the door to the cat carrier! This must be the place were Gracie got away. We looked around. No sign of a cat. I walked up to the house and peered in the window. There was a child’s play tent set up and some toys near it floating in about 6 inches of water. I knocked on the door. Tried the doorbell. No one answered. There was no sign of anyone coming. No waves of water as someone walked toward the door… Just the darkness and stillness and the floating toys of an empty house. Turning around, I started calling: Gracie. Gracie. And I heard something. Lucia started calling. And there was the sound again. A frightened cry. There was a low line of hedges under a front plate glass window. We called out again. And I saw something stir –something wadded up in the shrubs like a crumpled flag. It stirred again and I called Lucia: It’s Gracie. We found her.

I have to say here: I called out to Lucia because –she is the pet whisperer. Critters, animals and small children all seem to love that girl. They don’t seem to have any natural fear of her. Me, they seem to instinctively know, I am a goofus who –given the opportunity-- will mishandle any situation (including a cat rescue). Lucia reached into the shrubs and scooped Gracie up and we headed back to the car.

As we headed back to the car, Lucia holding Gracie in her arms –no need for a Sterlite container, (though I still relish the idea of carrying a cat in an air-tight plastic box) we were telling everyone we saw: We found our Grammy’s cat. We found the cat. See! We found her. She was hiding in some bushes. Look! People waved. They laughed. They shook their heads. It was pretty obvious, we were doing pretty well. Of course there was much more to this terrible day, then the next, and the next and even Wednesday. But there are a few things I think I will always remember. First is Xander and his willingness to help. I want to be more like him. Second is that feeling of finding Gracie. We were so despondent; especially for my mother-in-law. She seemed to be in shock. Everything was crashing down around her. She lost her house, maybe everything in it, but we found her cat. And last, I keep seeing that zucchini wrapped in cellophane floating in her living room. That image of that little piece of safety wrapped produce bobbing around near her TV haunts me. It says something to me about the precariousness of our condition. The precariousness of our lives. Despite all our precautions, safety wrapped lives, all our material wealth and efforts to secure ourselves from any dangers or disasters, we can suddenly find ourselves on a Sunday morning waking up amidst the rising waters, a cucumber floating in the living room, our toys floating above the billowing carpet beneath our feet as the waters rise and the ark begins to float off the ground.