Matthew 20:1-16

Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost | September 24, 2023 | Matthew 20:1-16 | David H. Brooks |

I may be the only one, but when I read this parable Jesus tells, I catch a whiff of dear old Tevye rubbing his hand together in glee, humming under his breath “if I were a rich man…” (Or maybe it’s Louchie Lou I’m thinking of…). The day is done, the workers are standing in the vineyard as the day finally turns toward shadow, and the weariness doesn’t stop the spring in the step and the straightening of the back as the early birds see those who arrived last and late receive a denarius in their palm.

You see, my boys? Hard work and good fortune have kissed! First round is on me!

But then those who arrived mid-afternoon receive a denarius.

And then those who arrived at lunch receive a denarius.

And those who arrived at the morning break receive a denarius.

The First-on-the-Scene Gang begin to grumble when they also find a single denarius pressed into their outstretched hands. “We have worked all day! How can you make those latecomers equal to us?!”

The reply is sure to infuriate everyone who believes in fairness: “You and I agreed to a good wage, and you have received what you are owed. I am free to be generous—who are you to tell me what to do with what belongs to me?”

So, let’s be honest in this moment: this story bothers us. Maybe even infuriates us. For some, this story could be thrown on the bonfire that burns against God, another example of how God is not fair, doesn’t do right. “God has made many, many poor people,” Tevye muses, and we would gladly join his chorus. Would it hurt the divine plan if you made me rich? Made me healthy? Made me popular? Made me what I want?

One of the things that makes it hard to talk about Christianity in our world, and living like a Christian in our world is that we have an expectation that Christianity will “work.” That it will provide some moral instruction, a source of peace and renewal, or be an aid to make us “happy.” Parents are particularly up front about this; they bring their children to church so that life will better for them. We want faith that will keep our fears at bay and accomplish what we want, help us be better people, make sense of the world… but the need is always out there. No one wants to admit that the problem is in here, in my heart, your heart. Inside here, each of us wants God to be what we want: the God of my ethnicity, my sex, my identity, my nation, my socioeconomic class, my choices. Each of us insisting that we have the ability and the right to tell God what he should do with what belongs to him. You crazy God! I chose to be here at the start, and you have made me the same as those worthless ones who were standing around at the end of the day!

Coming on the heels of Jesus’ encounter with the rich young man, this story is nothing more than a revealing of each of our hearts, of what we think we have earned, accumulated, possessed.  Do you gravitate toward those who began the day and are dumbfounded at the “good fortune” of those who arrived late? We want to think of ourselves as being in the know, as pulling our weight, as contributing, being valuable—as earning our position. But consider those who arrive at the end. Is it possible that they have wanted to be in the know, to have a chance to pull their weight, to contribute—to be valued? How hard it is to sit with that growing unease, watching the day goes by, seeing the shadows begin to lengthen, and realizing that today is not your day. You wonder if you missed out on an opportunity, on something important, but have no idea what to do about it. So, you stand there until someone finds you and invites you to come, be a part of something that matters.

And at the end of it all your hand is filled. Are you disappointed, or jubilant?

—

Rev. David H. Brooks

Raleigh, NC USA

Pr.Dave.Brooks@zoho.com