Göttinger Predigten
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Pentecost 19, 09/21/2008
Sermon on Matthew 20:1-16, by Hubert Beck
For the kingdom of heaven is like a master of a house who went out early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard. After agreeing with the laborers for a denarius a day, he sent them into his vineyard. And going out about the third hour he saw others standing idle in the marketplace, and to them he said, "You go into the vineyard too, and whatever is right I will give you." So they went. Going out again about the sixth hour and the ninth hour, he did the same. And about the eleventh hour he went out and found others standing. And he said to them, "Why do you stand here idle all day?" They said to him, "Because no one has hired us." He said to them, "You go into the vineyard too." And when evening came, the owner of the vineyard said to his foreman, "Call the laborers and pay them their wages, beginning with the last, up to the first." And when those hired about the eleventh hour came, each of them received a denarius. Now, when those hired first came, they thought they would receive more, but each of them also received a denarius. And on receiving it they grumbled at the master of the house, saying, "These last worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat." But he replied to one of them,"Friend, I am doing you no wrong. Did you not agree with me for a denarius? Take what belongs to you and go. I choose to give to this last worker as I give to you. Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or do you begrudge my generosity?" So the last will be first, and the first last." (English Standard Version)
THE DIVINE OUTRAGE
The Outrage of the Laborers
I share the outrage all of you feel upon hearing this parable. At least I assume you are outraged. If you are not, you should be! I certainly am!
I am not outraged, of course, when I receive the agreed upon day's wage for my day's work. Then I get what I deserve.
My outrage is only relatively slight, for that matter, when the person who worked only three hours less than I gets the same wage. I just shrug my shoulders and say, "Well, that's the way it goes sometimes. They are lucky to get a full day's wage when they didn't work a full day. Maybe I will show up in the marketplace a little later tomorrow than I did today and hope this same fellow will need work again."
My indignation raises a couple notches, though, when the person who only worked half-a-day gets the same wage I get. About that time my blood starts boiling.
But that is nothing compared to the rage that sets in when those who joined me in the field only in mid-afternoon receive the same wage I am given for the full day's work. I don't know whether to be more angry with the fellows who get so much for so little work or with the boss-man who gives them a wage like that.
My rage turns to a fury I seldom if ever feel, however, when those who came out late to the fields and worked only one hour still get the same wage I do! My insides churn and I determine never to work for this fellow again. He takes advantage of those who are industrious and rewards those who lazy around and only show up for an hour or two of work.
To make matters still worse, if they can become any worse, I heard those who came at the last hour say that when this manager of the vineyard who asked why they were standing around idle they told him that no one had hired them! The storm within me really became violent at that point, for I know very well that this manager had been out to that place where the day laborers gather at least three times that day since he hired me in the first shift. I saw them come in three different detachments through the day, so I am sure he had been out there time after time. And these fellows have the gall . . . the gall, mind you . . . to say that they had been there all day and nobody had hired them. They are outright liars. They hadn't been there at all or he would have seen them and hired them earlier. They just happened to be standing around at the end of the day. They weren't looking for work at all! It is hard to keep any kind of decent composure whatever in the face of injustices such as these.
To top it all off the employer pays those who came late before he pays me. He rubs salt into my wounds by making me stand around waiting for my own right and proper wage while I am forced to watch that same wage being unjustly handed out to those unworthies who spent only a small part of the day at the same labor. It drives me into an absolutely furious rage!
You can understand from all this, can you not, why there is need for labor unions, affirmative action, fair employment laws, and the like to be sure that those who give a full measure of work get a full measure of pay - and to protect those managers and laborers alike from predatory lazy-bones and unfair management practices.
You have every right to read this parable with absolute outrage, for just labor practices require just rewards. It is the rule that everybody on earth has a reason and a right to have enforced.
Not that it is, of course. There are unfair practices on every side. There are employers who gladly get by with the lowest possible wage rewards for the most possible work . . . and there are employees, in turn, who feel they have every right to give their employers the least return for their money. There is no end to our human will to get an advantage - to take advantage, in fact - of anybody and everybody around us. In all my innocent self-justification I am sure, of course, that I would never do things like that. But in my heart of hearts I know that I am by no means above doing exactly that - and that I indeed do it in subtle ways time after time, assuring myself that I am only getting what I deserve!
Ah, there's the rub! I want to - indeed insist! - that I get what I deserve. That's the rule I live by, for it pleases my ego no end to think that I am a "worthy recipient" of virtually everything I have and everything I can get. That is why I get so outraged at the fellow who gets what I get - and even more - when he hasn't done as much, is not as worthy as, is, in fact, far less worthy, than I am. The parable surely is a mirror of my heart, is it not? You realize, do you not, that if it weren't, I wouldn't really care that much one way or the other. What difference does it make if the other person gets more than I get so long as I get at least that which I deserve? What difference? Well, of course, there is a lot of difference, for by all just standards of this earth one gets what one deserves . . . not more, of course (unless by chance I am the one who happens to get more, which is really quite all right!) . . . and certainly not less.
The Outrageous Owner of the Vineyard
Well, at any rate, to get back to the parable itself - the owner proves to be as outrageous as his laborers are outraged. Of course, those who worked the whole day and received the wage for which they had bargained were not inclined to be outraged until the wages were handed out in such a manner that it became plain that they had been cheated, gypped, made fools of, for they had borne the heat and burden of the day and did not receive so much as a tip for their efforts.
It may be granted that the owner was desperate for help. After all, the grapes did need to be brought in before the rains came - and the clouds were gathering on the horizon. For all the help he had obtained through the day, any additional hands were gladly received. He worked everyone as hard as he could - and those who came fresh at the end of the day could perhaps work a bit harder than those who had already borne the heat of the day. Nobody argued about whether he needed more help or not. Nobody even cared that some came at the end of the day and worked only an hour. Nobody cared, that is, until it came time to collect the wages.
At that point, though, it became obvious that the owner's actions were outrageous. He could have found some other way to deal with this. At least one possibility could have been that of giving those who had worked all day their wages first so that they could go home. Then they may not have even known that others received the same wage they did. Then they wouldn't have been around to observe this horrible injustice they had to endure. Instead, they stood waiting, sweaty and tired, only to see themselves "cheated" by any standard they could imagine. No wonder that they "grumbled at the master of the house, saying, ‘These last worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat.'" Their outrage overflowed into a tirade against the owner.
No matter that they, themselves, would have had no job had they not found employment with this man. No matter that they had agreed to the wage they received as though it were an honest agreement. No matter, in fact, that the owner had kept his end of the bargain with them and given them their agreed-upon wage. No matter that the owner showed himself generous with those employed late. No matter that the owner had a right to do as he pleased with what he had. "Friend, I am doing you no wrong. Did you not agree with me for a denarius? Take what belongs to you and go. I choose to give to this last worker as I give to you. Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or do you begrudge my generosity?"
Who cares about generosity at a time like this? He had simply proved to the all-day workers that they should come late in the day tomorrow and save themselves a considerable amount of sweat and energy. If that is the way the owner wanted to function, let him do it. But be assured that next time they would be the ones who came late - even if they had to lie about their state of unemployment until the last minute. No matter how you explained the situation, it cut across every fiber of justice that one can find upon the face of the earth.
The Outrage in Perspective
There, though - precisely there - we find the problem and a new way to look at the situation. We have been looking at the substance of this parable very carefully - perhaps even too rigorously for our own good - to establish what "every fiber of justice to be found upon the face of the earth" looks like. We have been considering the parable as though, first of all, it was spoken into a void . . . as though Jesus, having little else of concern to do, suddenly decided, "Now is a dandy time to come up with a parable, so I'll tell one for the enjoyment of the listening audience - a real good one, in fact," and then he burst out into these words. We have also been considering the parable as though, secondly, it was begun thus: "For the kingdom of this earth is like a master . . . . "
To closely examine either or both of these premises upon which we have built the whole case of the laborers against the owner reveals a whole different way to understand it.
On the one hand, the parable follows a particularly intense exchange between Jesus and a rich young man who was devoted to buying his way into the kingdom. "Teacher, what good deed must I do to have eternal life?" he had asked. (Matthew 19:16) Jesus pointed him to all the good deeds that the Law prescribes, never arguing with him about his basic premise that he could buy his way into the life he sought, thus, as it were, leaving him to, as we say, "stew in his own juice." But the fellow pressed the issue by assuring Jesus that he had done all that to the "t" without achieving any certainty about his place in eternity. Wasn't there something still more that he could / should do to attain the conviction he sought so earnestly? So Jesus pushed on the young man: "If you would be perfect, go, sell what you possess and give to the poor . . . and come, follow me." That didn't, as you surely recall, sit well with the young man who "went away sorrowful, for he had great possessions." (Matthew 19:20-22)
But Jesus didn't let go of the issue once the young man left. He turned to those following him, assuring the disciples that all insistent claims to earthly possessions as such would surely be a detour for any who wanted to have eternal rest. The disciples took the bait, anxiously asking, "Who then can be saved?" (Matthew 19:25) Jesus strongly asserted that salvation rests with God's gracious actions in their behalf alone . . . not in the least on their own activity. He pressed the matter very hard. "With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible." (Matthew 19:26) The parable we are considering was something of a climactic statement bringing all this to a head.
The second thing vital for our understanding of this text is that, keeping in mind all that has preceded it (and, for that matter, that which follows it when Jesus told his disciples they were going to Jerusalem where "the Son of Man will be delivered over to the chief priests and scribes, and they will condemn him to death and deliver him over to the Gentiles . . . and he will be raised on the third day." [Matthew 20:18, 19]), Jesus begins this parable by saying, "For the kingdom of heaven is like . . ."
The Divine Outrage
The parable, then, is about the kingdom of heaven and not about the kingdom of this earth. So what is the kingdom of heaven like? Certainly not like the kingdom of this world! If it were we would all be in as sad a shape as that rich young man whose story immediately preceded this text. We would all, of necessity, "go away sad," for it would require more to obtain it than we are able to produce!
The two kingdoms do have some common ground, it is true. Without God we would neither be in the labor force nor have any employment whatever. In that employ we are not asked to do more than . . . or less than . . . that which justice in its sternest form demands of us, to be sure. But we cannot fudge on that word "justice," for it is a hard word, an exacting word. If we insist on justice, then we must settle for justice and not stand for anything less than justice. Justice is to be paid a denarius a day. It will, of course, also press for paying a lesser wage for those who worked less time. That would be just. Justice is good and honorable in itself.
At just this point, however, the kingdom of God turns everything in the kingdom of this world upside down and inside out. When justice becomes so hard-nosed that it leaves no room for merciful generosity one has lost one's heart for the recipient of the justice, preferring instead the cold-heartedly proper maintenance of legal standards by which justice is established.
Therein we see the very heart of "what the kingdom of heaven is like." "Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or do you begrudge my generosity?" God deals justly with those who demand justice, but yet his generosity is beyond all human bounds . . . precisely because it takes justice fully into account at the same time that it exercises his gracious care for us needy people.
The parable admittedly should not be made over into an allegory, but we still can ask if the denarius paid to all is not a picture of our Lord's suffering and death, the just payment for human sinfulness? Inasmuch as the very next verses after this parable clearly point to that suffering, death and resurrection, the idea is surely not far removed from the parable. Does the denarius of God's Son dying in our behalf speak less meaningfully to the thief dying on the cross next to Jesus asking in his last hour to be received into the kingdom of our Lord than it does to a Peter or John or those who traveled the entire course of Jesus' ministry with him - or to those of us who, having been baptized in infancy, have lived our entire lives in his employ? Should anyone begrudge that word of mercy to anybody who longs for it and asks for it?
Grace is really quite a remarkable thing, is it not? It levels everything out in a most extraordinary way. Many have puzzled through the years over the closing words of this text, "So the last will be first, and the first last." One cannot forget, however, that the discourse with the disciples after the rich young man had gone his own way immediately preceding this parable ended with the very inverse way of saying that with which this passage concludes: "But many who are first will be last, and the last first." Whether you say it one way or the other, does the phrase not have the effect, in the end, of that "leveling out" effect of grace? There is no first or last in the divine economy - no outsider or insider - no more rightfully deserving or less rightfully deserving - no better or worse in the kingdom of heaven. Whenever one stands in the kingdom of heaven one thing alone is clear . . . it is God's kingdom, it is God who has made citizenship in the kingdom possible, it is God who has called its citizens into the kingdom, it is God who is ultimately at bottom the one by whom and through whom all who are there have inherited (notice the word . . . not "earned," but "inherited"!) the kingdom!
This divine economy is a divine outrage to anyone devoted to purely human dimensions of justice. In that human dimension of justice we are all evenly, each and every one of us, opposed to God in our sinfulness - and all of us fall evenly under the hammer of his justice. In the divine dimension of justice we are all invited into the kingdom through the justice satisfied on the cross of God's Son entirely apart from that which we have done. The denarius is handed out as the generous outpouring of the Owner's heart. It is far more than a wage. It is pure gift given from the generous heart of the Giver. It is the Master's denarius to give, not ours to demand. And that denarius is the sole "price of admission" into the kingdom of heaven.
This is a most difficult thing to comprehend when we try to understand it solely from our human point of view. I confess that when I think about these things it occurs to me from time to time that purely as a human I would be outraged - the word is intentionally used, strange though it may seem in this context - outraged, mind you - to find who else is there when I am admitted into the divine palace! "What are you doing here?" I would undoubtedly ask as I quietly note in what was once my darker and deeper innards that said person had hardly worked in hardly a small part of a whole day in God's vineyard. And then I would hear the reply, "Why, the owner himself gave me a denarius. That is the price of admission here!" Then I would have to put down the denarius that was given to me and sit down beside that person. (This, of course, is a mocking way of speaking about how I, with my worldly sense of justice, recognize my first reaction would be. You can speak for yourself!)
But who, finally and ultimately, does belong there? Nobody "belongs there" in the sense we talk about "belonging there" in earthly terms. It is for God to say, not us. His Son has opened the gate; his Spirit has invited us in through our baptism; has fed us on the Son's body and blood; has guided us by his word to the heavenly gates. Gladly we will enter there - and undoubtedly find people alongside us who we never thought could possibly be there. In that place of perfection, I am quite sure, there will be no anxious grumbling about who has worked all the day through and who worked only one hour in spite of my earlier conjectures about what we may think in earthly terms upon our arrival there. It will be enough if we are there. Gladly would we have others there also!
It is really not for us to worry so much on this side of heaven about who will be there. For us it is enough to announce the marvelously outrageous grace of God that made itself known in bodily form through him who told this parable. It is enough for us to point to the wounded hand that holds the denarius out for us to seize hold of. It is enough for us to be passageways of the grace that has embraced us so that it can flow through us to all those around us. Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem when he told this story in order to make that grace of God available by enduring human injustice and offering his blood for the world. He unflinchingly went that way, though, for he knew the owner of the vineyard and he knew that his Father was both just and generous all at the same time. He knew that justice was joined to that generosity in him who turned his face to the cross.
Martin Luther wrote, "Even when [faith] is taught in the best possible way, it is difficult enough to learn it well. . . . We cannot . . . think anything except that, if I have lived a holy life and done many great works, God will be gracious to me. . . . The heart is always ready to boast of itself before God and say, ‘After all, I have preached so long and lived so well and done so much, surely God will take this into account. . . .' When you come before God, leave all that boasting at home and remember to appeal from justice to grace." *
Listen to brother Martin well. If you do, you will find yourself in this parable of "The Generous Owner of the Vineyard." Or, even better, you will find a remarkably generous Owner!
In the name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit.