That Hardly Seems Fair

Matthew 20:1-16

        In the next few weeks a movie called “The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby”, a film about a couple struggling with their marriage, will be released. Admittedly my curiosity stemmed from the title, a clear reference to one of my favorite Beatle songs. What I discovered is the movie is actually three films. Evidently Jessica Chastain, the actress approached to play the leading role, felt the original screen play was told primarily from the perspective of the husband. So the script was rewritten from the viewpoint of the wife. Then it was rewritten to try to find a fair intersection of both stories.  The last rewrite will be released this month. In October “his” version and “her” version will be released back to back in a film that will run about three hours. That’s a lot of popcorn.

        Stories are best understood from a variety of perspectives.  Perhaps that is what has made the parables of Jesus so timeless. Take the prodigal son. As a child, I understood the carefree son who wanted to experience life on his own terms. But I also had three younger sisters. As I grew older, I often envied and resented the cavalier attitude of my sister Becky.  On becoming a father I had to undertake the responsibility of distributing both grace and justice.

        This morning we have a parable that changes colors more than a lizard in October. It begins with a definitive phrase, “The kingdom of heaven is like.” What exactly does that mean? Is Jesus talking about heaven, a place prepared for us when we die? Is Jesus, a good Hebrew, referring to the possibility of heaven on earth? Or could Jesus be referring to a combination of both?

        Confused? Wait until you hear the story.  An owner of a vineyard hires laborers to help with the harvesting of his crop. He promises a fair wage for those willing to work. In the morning he picks a crew. He comes back at lunch to select a few more workers.  Later in the afternoon he picks a couple more to complete the job. At the end of the workday he paid all the workers the same amount.  The early morning workers were outraged. But the farmer replied, “Did I not pay what I promised?”

        Where do we begin? It is obvious Jesus never took the time to read Adam Smith. This is no way to run a business. Eventually workers would not show up until late in the day. So what is this the point of the story? Is it about the workers or is it about the owner of the vineyard? My experience is when folks look at the parables of Jesus, regardless of the meaning, eventually we make it about us.

A quick glance at this parable raises questions concerning its fairness. Forget the economic aspects; let’s talk in terms of salvation. I personally think my parents did a wonderful job raising me. A huge part of this task was sharing their faith and integrating me into a community of faith. When my first profession of faith was made before my eight birthday, they impressed on me the idea that my faith journey would be a lifetime journey. They were right. My faith as an eight year old holds little resemblance to my belief system today. I have grown older and matured. The idea of God is much more mysterious now than it was 55 years ago. And while my belief in the grace of God has never wavered, there is still a teeny part of me that wonders if this marvelous gift of grace is fair. How can God possibly love someone like Adrianne Peterson as much as God loves me?

We all have our stories of the guy who lived wildly for the better part of his life. He didn’t think twice about the way he treated himself or others. Then life caught up with him. Three marriages and four jobs later even his children would not give him the time of day. Alone and somewhat desperate, he discoverers God and outwardly we rejoice. On Sunday morning we praise God that another lost sheep has been found. But later that evening two thoughts enter our mind. “I wonder how long it will take before Jim returns to his old ways.”  Then we admit what is really bothering us. “Where is the justice in this? I’ve been good my whole life. How can God love the good and the not so good the same?

A second and perhaps equally dangerous interpretation of this parable assumes that it really is an economic parable. What if this story not only envisions what heaven on earth could be like, it exposes why bringing in the new kingdom will be so difficult. When I served a Church in Virginia Beach. I was privileged to work with a woman who dedicated her life to the poor and homeless in the Tidewater Area. Often I would help Alice transport folks to a job site where extra workers would be picked up as day laborers. At 6:30 a.m. all the perspective workers regarded each other as equals competing for a job. The selections were made. Some got work, most were sent away. I watched as one day as a selected laborer turned to his rejected companion and mouthed the word, “Loser”. Why should I have been surprised? Isn’t that what most working folks think as we drive by a line of unemployed men?

In our lectionary the text often paired with this parable is the story of the children of Israel receiving manna in the wilderness. Provisions were running out as a trip that should have taken days began to multiply into months. The people complained to Moses that they would starve in the wilderness. God answered with the promise of manna, a sweet sticky substance that can be retrieved throughout the desert. The first day folks rushed out into the desert to collect the food. Some were younger or stronger than others and they began to take more than their fair share. The most amazing thing happened. The manna that was not eaten spoiled. Those that had taken more than their fair share were stuck with garbage. To further prove that God’s hand was at work in this, the manna collected the day before the Sabbath magically lasted through the holy day when no manna could be found on the ground.

Despite the fact Jesus didn’t teach his disciples to pray, “Give me this day my daily bread”, it can be successfully argued that our economic system is based on competition. We faithfully cling to a social Darwinism that promotes the survival of the fittest. This creates a climate of winner and losers, intentionally making the losers feel inferior.   We even insult those without work or those forced to work remedial jobs by insisting the playing field is level and they haven’t taken advantage of the opportunities given them. Note the complaint of the workers in the parable. “You are trying to make them equal to us.” Could Jesus have possibly been suggesting that God created enough manna for everyone? Is Jesus unmasking an old order and offering a new way of doing business? Could Jesus have actually been telling this story to laborers who faced the real economic terrors of their day?

Here in lies the problem of any parable. What does it really mean?  Is this a story promoting economic justice? Is it a story of grace? Is it a story suggesting grace trumps justice? All kind of assumptions are made when we wrestle with the parables of Jesus?

Charlotte Cleghorn writes, “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if the only theological assumptions we ever made were:

   God loves me and all creation profoundly.

   I and all others are made in the image of God.

   God’s generosity is beyond our wildest imagination.

   There is nothing I can do to earn or deserve God’s grace.”

        That is a lovely thought but our life experiences filter through those assumptions and convince us these nice sounding words cannot be true. Any conversation about the generosity of God can quickly turn into an argument over what is and what is not fair. What complicates this discussion is the biblical message that offers this unnerving truth.                   GOD IS A LOUSY BOOKKEEPER.

A long time ago I viewed God as my heavenly bean counter who was closely taking notes on all my actions. The good things I did were equally weighed against my mishaps.  My God not only had a long beard, he probably wore a red robe. But then somewhere along the way I stopped believing in Santa Claus. This was probably about the time I decided since I was a pretty good guy, I wanted God to punish those who threatened to harm me and the ones I loved. My image of God turned from St. Nick to St. George.

This God, who would slay my dragons along with many other fears, served me quite well until I began to realize that much of what I feared was created either by my own nearsightedness or by trusted voices that had much to gain by expanding my list of enemies.

New saints emerged to enlighten my life long journey. St. Martin preached, “Hatred and bitterness can never cure the disease of fear. Hatred paralyzes life; love releases it. Hatred darkens life; grace illumines it.”

St. Coffin wrote, “Why do Christians look so joyless. Could it be because we regularly practice guilt while forgetting Jesus’ message was forgiveness and grace?”

Finally a voice one nowhere near sainthood prayed, “O God, grant me the courage to wrestle with my fears until I can name them, and claim them, and if necessary even befriend them. Let me face the uncertainty of today armed with nothing more than the promise of your grace.”

So here is my unsolicited and meager opinion.  Grace is a gift. It is offered in the morning, at noon and at quitting time. The recipients of grace include the good, the bad and the ugly. But there is a string attached. Grace interrupts the assumptions that hold people captive and creates the possibility of experiencing something new.              Amen.