Matthew 20:1-9

Before I became a priest, I spent a number of years as a teacher in elementary classrooms. One of the phrases that I heard with great frequency, especially after making a decision that seemed arbitrary or capricious was this:

“That’s not fair!”

My students, as most children are, were highly attuned to matters of just and fair treatment by the adults in their lives. I mention that phrase because there is another place where I have heard it with some frequency – and that is during the coffee hour after church on a Sunday when today’s Gospel has been read.

Some of the parables that Jesus told are poetic and poignant. Others can confuse us with unlikely protagonists. But then there are those like the one we heard today. If we tend to the details of this parable, then what we are hearing Jesus say is that the kingdom of heaven, the realm of God, that place and space where we have a sense of God’s will being done, is anything but fair.

“For the kingdom of heaven is like a householder who went out early in the morning to hire laborers in his vineyard. After agreeing with the laborers for the usual daily wage, he set them to work.” (Matthew 20:1)

And as the story unfolds, we discover that other laborers are recruited, some at the third hour, some at the sixth, then the ninth, and finally at the eleventh hour – this is not your average eight hour work day.

So imagine that you are one of those who came early in the morning. Isn’t there a part of us that wants to nod with agreement with those day long laborers? They line up and see the ones who only worked an hour getting a full day’s wage. Surely, if those who worked for such a short time got a denarius, we will get more. But then, those who worked a few hours get the same, those who worked six hours, and then – they, who had borne the burden of the day – they get the same, a full day’s wage. What kind of stimulus plan is this? Whatever it is, it is just not fair.

And if there is something we very much want, it is that the world be fair. One of the reasons this parable can arouse so many emotions at coffee hours is that in my experience at least, most of the folks who make it to church to hear this parable are like those laborers who went to work at the beginning of the day. We know what it means to earn a living. We know what it means to show up. We know what it means to establish a contract and to do our duty.

Indeed, churches often do a lot to encourage this way of seeing the world: if you do your work, you will be rewarded. Are there some of you out there who remember getting perfect attendance awards? When I was growing up I spent a lot of time in the little Presbyterian Church where my grandparents lived. One of the most dedicated laborers in that particular vineyard was Marjorie Goodrich. A retired school teacher, she was the longtime Superintendent of the Sunday School. And every fall on Rally Day, it was Mrs. Goodrich who was in charge of announcing the names of those who had had perfect attendance in Sunday School the year before. This particular church had a little white badge that you got for one year of perfect attendance. The second year, a little gold wreath went around the badge. And then, if you hit your stride and made it to three, four and five years, you would get little bars that hung down from the badge – one for each successive year.

At Rally Day, Mrs. Goodrich would read out our names, and we would march forward to receive our reward. But always there was a dramatic conclusion to the ceremony. After reading a few teachers’ names who might have had 10 or even 20 years of perfect attendance – as students and then as teachers – there would be a pause. And then Mrs. Goodrich would read one more name: “Marjorie Goodrich, 65 years. “ I cannot remember if that was the exact amount of years, and there were no actual bars for that many years. But what I do remember is always imagining this gracious and courtly woman walking down the aisle with a chain of attendance bars dragging behind her.

Oh, to be recognized for your work, and for what you have done! These are values that we want to instill in our children: to develop good work habits, to understand that to make your way in the world you must work hard will be rewarded by financial gain. And then Jesus comes along and upsets our lessons about economics and the reality of life. Yes, we get paid, but someone else gets the same that we did, even when they did not bear the burden of the day.

This is not capitalism. It is not even communism, because each does not get according to his or her need, but all receive the same. No, this is a different kind of economic system – this is the economics of the kingdom. And in that realm, what we receive is not a matter of mathematical calculation. It is not based on a rewards system; it is not based on what we have done or left undone, and it is not based on how long we have been in the vineyard. What we receive is based on one thing and one thing alone: the generous heart of the giver, the owner of the vineyard.

Perhaps Jesus is talking about another kind of stimulus package here: the generosity of God offered to all without regard for what we have done to earn it, or to lose it. The gift is granted to those who have been good and steadfast. The gift is offered to those who have come in the middle of the day. The gift is offered to those who have been standing idle – not because they did not want to work, but because no one had yet asked them to.

If the church is to be a place where the economics of the kingdom are evident, then it will be a place where we are constantly reminded not so much of what we may have done, but of what God is doing to pour our the goodness of life so that all may receive it. And the church can do that.

Indeed, I know I learned that from Mrs. Goodrich. Because she was not only the superintendent, but the kindergarten teacher as well. And in her classroom, each child was the beneficiary of her love and guidance. If you had been on the cradle roll at that church, she loved you and welcomed you. And if you were there for the very first time on a Sunday morning, she loved you and welcomed you.

This is, then, a stimulus plan of sorts. It is a plan in which there is a God who desires us, who through Christ invites us to live in the realm where our status has nothing to do with our work history. It is a plan in which God is stimulating in our hearts a desire to respond and to live into the fullness of the kingdom of heaven, whether we have been faithful all of our lives, or whether we are just sensing that someone is calling to us. It is a plan in which ultimately, everyone must receive the fullness of what is offered, because the Good News, the kingdom of heaven, is not something that can be parceled out piece by piece. One cannot only receive part of it. It is there – all of it – for all of us, and given in its fullness.

And so, whoever you are, whether you identify with those workers who have been at it all day, or you have come at the last hour, know this: the invitation to enter into the full life that God offers us is made to all, and the line forms here.

Amen.

A Sermon for St. John’s Episcopal Church
Charlestown, Massachusetts
Preached on the Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost

September 18, 2011
by the Rev. Thomas N. Mousin