Readings: Is 55:6-9; Psalm 145; Phil 1:20c-24, 27a; Mt 20: 1-16a
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Have you ever been treated
unfairly? I guess most of us have, especially when we were kids, even if it weren’t true.
I was the younger of two sons. My brother, Jeff, was four years older, the smarter, better-looking son. He got a lot of attention, far more than I. But I’m not complaining, because for me the benefits far outweighed the disadvantages. You see, because everyone focused so much on Jeff, they kind of left me alone. The poor boy was constantly measured and examined, under the family microscope, while I had a lot of freedom, probably too much.
For me, though, it was a good life. But one day, when I was 17, a high school senior, I totaled my father’s car. It was a nice car, a very nice car, a French car. Approaching an uncontrolled intersection, I had assumed the cross street had a stop sign. It didn’t; and I plowed into the side of a taxicab.
As you might imagine, when Dad got home from work, he was upset. “Your brother would never have done that! You’re grounded for a month, and that’s just the start.”
I was tempted to reveal some of Jeff’s secrets, but instead appealed to my father’s higher instincts. Every Saturday morning Dad, an Army Reserve colonel, led a family “staff meeting”, that included reading and discussing the Sunday Gospel. Recalling the Gospel of the previous week, I said, “You never would have grounded Jeff. You told us to treat everyone alike, to be merciful like that landowner in the Gospel.” Big mistake. He just said, “Two months,” and left.
Now don’t get me wrong. My folks loved us both and were wonderful parents. And I deserved a lot more punishment than I was given. But that little episode also convinced me that, indeed, our ways are not God’s ways.
We hear it first from Isaiah, who assumes
the role of opening act for Jesus, sharing God’s message, and foreshadowing
Jesus’ words:
“…my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways.”
Jesus takes this a new level in His Sermon on the Mount when He commands us: “be perfect, just as your heavenly Father is perfect.” Imperfect as I am. I turned to Jesus in a kind of prayer and told Him: “Look, Jesus, you’re the Son of God, I’m just the son of John McCarthy, who got mad because I wrecked his neat car. Aren’t you asking way too much of me, of all of us?” And His response? "My Father sent me to redeem you, but I became one of you so you could see first-hand how you should live the gift of your life."
I would think all of us here hope to enter God’s Kingdom, right? After all, we're here, so that should mean something. But Jesus seems to be telling us to become more like Him, more God-like, to think, see, and live as He does. Even though perfection is beyond us, at least in this life, God wants us to strive, to be open to His Word, His gifts of grace, trying to see and treat each other as God does.
Today’s Gospel parable shows us the difference between God and us about as clearly as any. It’s all about mercy; about striving for the holiness God wants for us; about entering a relationship with our Lord Jesus.
First, it’s a parable; it’s not a mini-seminar on labor-management relations. Any employer today who did as the landowner did would go bankrupt because of his high labor costs. He’d also be accused of unfair labor practices and likely face a shutdown strike. Of course, this just highlights the point that Jesus makes: God is different. God is so very different. So different that if we acted as He acts, the people around us wouldn’t know what to make of us.
That’s what saints do. They go against the grain of the world and upset a lot of people. Yes, they’re always scraping their fingernails on the world’s blackboard driving people crazy. Yes, saints and martyrs follow Jesus. It’s because they’re so different they make a difference. Because God continually raises them up among us and places them in our midst, we’ll never be at a loss for saints and martyrs.
But let’s get back to
our parable...
For all of us who spent a lifetime working hard preparing for our retirement, it’s easy to get caught up with the literal, human side of the parable. It’s easy to sympathize with the workers who’d spent a long, hard day in the vineyard. Even though they were paid the wages they agreed to…well, it just doesn’t seem fair, does it? For the others, though, who waited all day to be hired, the landowner’s a savior, a most kind and generous man. It all depends on our point of view, doesn’t it?
But we can put all that aside because this parable isn’t about agriculture or farm workers. It’s about the Kingdom of Heaven, offering us just a tiny glimpse into what it’s like, and what God’s like. You see, God -- Father, Son, and Holy Spirit -- is out there looking for us, calling to us, and He’ll does it early and late and in-between. We need only respond in faith: “Yes, I’ll be your disciple, tell me what to do.” The reward, the wages, are the same: salvation and eternal happiness.
It’s interesting, isn’t it? The early workers suggest the landowner is unjust, not because he’s broken their agreement, but because he’s gone beyond it and been overly generous to all who come to him. By saying “Yes” all the workers agreed to His terms, and by saying, “Yes” to God, we do the same.
You see, God’s terms are very straightforward. He likes to keep things simple; we’re the ones who complicate everything, making our lives far more difficult than they need be.
Not long after this, after Jesus entered
Jerusalem, Matthew tells us how our Lord summed it all up, going back to
Deuteronomy and Leviticus, and repeating what God had revealed to Moses:
You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength. And you shall love your neighbor as yourself.
Sounds simple, doesn’t it? If everyone did that, just imagine what our world would be like. And yet it’s not like that because we’re all sinners. But for a pack of sinners, we should be overjoyed that the rules of divine grace are not the same as human rules, that God’s justice is so far beyond our human justice. You see, God’s capacity for forgiveness gloriously exceeds any human potential.
We hear the early workers’ complaint: You have made them equal to us! Satan tries to convince us that God plays a zero-sum game, that it’s impossible for all to win, that God simply doesn’t have enough grace, enough love for everyone. As always, the father of lies is wrong. Jesus’ teaching on discipleship reflects the loving equality within the Kingdom, and the freedom of its King to shed His grace as He sees fit, beyond our understanding. Of course, given our competitiveness and the calculating nature of our self-driven sense of justice, too often we respond to God's goodness with resentment.
Brothers and sisters, God loves outrageously and asks us to do the same. Doing so, He scandalizes many who seem to be just, good, and worthy. We see this in so many of Jesus' parables…
Recall the merciful father when the repentant prodigal returns seeking forgiveness. Who’s scandalized by this? The elder son, the one who had done everything well but failed to understand both the mercy and joy of his father.
Yes, our God flaunts His love and mercy, and dares us to be as generous, as selfless, as merciful. Like the Good Shepherd who celebrates when he finds the lost sheep, Jesus turns our attention to the sheer delight that should accompany conversion, the joyful fruit of selfless love.
Conversion isn’t just some one-time experience as some Christians believe. No, conversion’s a life-long process. I think St. Paul said it best when he told the Philippians to “work out your salvation with fear and trembling.” (Phil 2:12) Yeah, it ain’t easy, and we have to work it out with God's help.
God knows we struggle and He doesn’t forget faithfulness, whether it’s early or late. After all, if we’re truly faithful, we’re out in the vineyard doing His work; bringing others to Him. That’s right. You do know that we are all called to evangelize, that evangelization is the primary mission, the work of the Church. Where do we evangelize? In our families, our friendships, our neighborhoods, in our own little slice of God’s world sharing His unconditional love with the others He places in our lives. God never forgets the faithful. But He also rejoices and celebrates the arrival of those who might have been a little late in joining them.
God, you see, is the ultimate landowner. It’s good to remember that. You and I own nothing; all of creation, every speck of it is His. Our little temporary share is pure gift. It’s certainly nothing we earn. Once we let that really sink in and abandon ourselves to God’s love and mercy, once we allow our lives to be motivated by thanksgiving for God’s generosity, we can get over our fussy little comparisons between ourselves and others.
We can avoid the individual, even
the international hatreds, the nasty and foolish rivalries that lead only to
envious resentment and sin.
We can forgive fathers and
brothers, mothers and sisters, and daughters and sons. Yes, we can forgive all,
forgive as God forgives.
What do you and I pray every day, using the words Jesus gave us? “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” Failing to forgive is no way to enter the Kingdom of Heaven.
I’m the only one left in that
family that raised me. I forgave them long ago of those little slights, and pray that
they forgave me for much greater ones.
As a recent birthday reminded me, a lot of us here on in God’s vestibule. But one of my favorites, St. John of the Cross, said it best: “In the evening of life, we shall be judged by love.”
Yes, indeed, judged both by a God
who is love and by ourselves by how much we have loved.
God love you.
