It's not Fair!

 

Jesu Juva

St. Matt. 20:1-16                                                          

September 20, 2020

Proper 20A                                                               

 Dear saints of our Savior~

          We often hear it said of Jesus that He had no earthly possessions.  No house or home.  No money.  No personal property to speak of.  “Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests,” Jesus once said, “but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.”

          But frankly, after hearing the parable of the laborers in the vineyard, it’s a little more apparent why Jesus wasn’t wealthy.  Any small business owner who tried to adopt the business practices in this parable—well, he wouldn’t be in business for long.  Nor would Jesus fit in with today’s corporate world.  His accounting method of equal pay for unequal work sounds more like socialism than capitalism.

          After all, it doesn’t take an MBA degree to figure out what will happen when those who come to work at sunset are paid exactly the same amount as those who show up at sunrise.  Nobody would be so foolish as to come to work at dawn if he could get the same fat paycheck for showing up at dusk.  Who wouldn’t prefer to work for just a little while at the end of the day?  Nobody’s going to do ten times the work for the same amount of money.  It’s just not fair.

          But today we learn that God is not fair.  He’s just.  He’s gracious.  But God is not fair.  Then again, grace isn’t fair.  What’s fair is the Law.  If it’s fair, that means the first come in first and the last come in last, and the kingdom goes to those who earn it.  But if it’s grace we’re talking about, then the first are last, and the kingdom goes to the least of all.  But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.  Let’s go to the parable, shall we?

          A man had a vineyard and needed laborers to pick his grapes.  At about 6 AM he went out and negotiated with some laborers to work that day for a denarius—about $120.  And off they went.  By mid-morning they were still shorthanded.  So the vineyard owner went and found more laborers looking for work.  “You go and work in the vineyard too,” he told them, “and whatever is right I will give you.”  Note that he says, “whatever is right,” not “whatever is fair.”  The same thing happened at noon and 3PM.  At 5PM he still needed more help, so he went to the local tavern where some deadbeats had apparently spent the entire day.  “You go into my vineyard too,” he says, making no promises about the wages he would pay.

          Finally, at 6PM it’s Miller Time as they say in Milwaukee.  The vineyard workers all head to the foreman to receive their wages.  The owner has them line up in reverse order, from last-hired to first-hired—from the 11^th hour losers to the crack-of-dawn early birds.  The first girl in line (one of the deadbeats from the tavern) gets her envelope, expecting maybe ten dollars.  But what’s she find instead?  Six crisp twenties!  And so it continues.

          Pretty soon word filters to the back of the line—to those who began working at dawn—that those who worked only one hour got $120.  So they’re thinking, $120 per hour, for 12 hours—the biggest payday of their grape-picking lives.  But they hadn’t figured on one thing:  The payout from the owner is all based upon his goodness and his promises, and not on their work.  And in his infinite goodness, this guy gives six crisp twenties to every single worker, regardless of how much or how little they worked.  Each worker gets a denarius.  “It’s not fair,” shout the sweaty, exhausted, sun-burnt guys who worked all day.  But the owner reminds them that he didn’t promise to be fair, but to pay them a denarius.  Promise made; promise kept.  End of parable.

          One of the toughest pills for religious superstars to swallow is the idea that God justifies the ungodly.  God adopts deadbeats as His own dear children.  And when that final whistle blows on that final day of labor, our salvation will not be based upon our works, or upon how early we clocked in, but on the sheer grace of God in Jesus Christ who doles out a denarius  of salvation to all who believe, whether a lifelong Lutheran or a deathbed convert.  There’s nothing fair about it.

          Now, a day’s wages for a day’s work—that’s fair.  That’s what we expect in this world, and that’s well and good.  This world operates according to the law, and that’s good.  But in the kingdom of God things are different.  God’s thoughts are not our thoughts.  His ways are not our ways.  He deals with us not according to what’s fair, but according to His grace and mercy. 

          But if you want God to be fair—to deal with you according to your works and your time-card—well then, you will be damned.  You can look forward to an eternity of weeping and gnashing your teeth.  That’s fair.  Hell is the place where everyone gets treated fairly—where everyone gets exactly what they deserve according to the Law.

          Where do we fit into this parable?  Are we like those hired first or hired last?  Hard to say.  Most of us were baptized as babies; we grew up in the church.  We’ve been working in the vineyard a long time with not even a conscious moment when we didn’t know Jesus as our Savior.  We “clocked in” early and we’ve never clocked-out.

          Then again, we’re hardly the first to go to work in our Lord’s vineyard.  Countless others have believed before us.  Other saints have suffered before us—and much, much more than us.  There have been workers in this vineyard for two thousand years, including St. Matthew and St. Paul, St. Mary and St. Elizabeth, St. Polycarp and St. Augustine.  There were countless, nameless believers who bore the heat of persecution, who defended the faith, who suffered and died trusting in Jesus, who have now departed this life to be with Christ (which is far better).

          But now, in these last days, at the eleventh hour, as the sun is setting, with the fields still ripe and waiting for harvest, the Lord of the vineyard has been so kind and gracious to call YOU to work in this same vineyard.  And today, on this Confirmation Sunday, we welcome and pray for our three newest vineyard workers:  Katie, Rilan, and Delaney.  You three are really the last and the least.  You’re just setting foot in the vineyard when so much of the work is already done.  And yet—mysteriously and unfairly—you get the same denarius as everybody else—not 120 bucks, but the same forgiveness of sins, the same salvation, the same love and mercy, the same resurrection life in Jesus.  It’s not fair at all; but it’s oh, so gracious.

          While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.  While we were still ungodly deadbeats, Jesus justified us.  Before you so much as lifted a finger to work in His vineyard, He prepared an envelope with your name on it, containing your “denarius.”  You’re not saving up pay stubs to present at the pearly gates upon your arrival.  But as you go about everyday doing the work God has called you to do, you’re simply serving the Lord who has already served you.  You are loving Him who loved you first.

          Saint Paul expressed it this way in today’s epistle:  For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.  And for you too:  “To live is Christ.”  To go on living and laboring and working in this world is a good and wonderful thing—a privilege grounded in grace.  “To live is Christ.” To receive His gifts, to forgive as you have been forgiven, to speak the truth in love, to rejoice in your sufferings, to love your neighbor as yourself.  It’s not easy work, to be sure.  But the day is almost over; and you have a generous Master who is full of wonderful surprises.  To live is Christ, and to die is gain.  All of our labor is done in that sure and certain confidence—to die is gain.  To die is to depart and be with Christ—and there is nothing better than that.

          It’s not fair.  There’s no denying that.  For whether first or last, whether we’ve worked hard or hardly worked—God’s grace and generosity  are awaiting each of His children at the end of the day.  Jesus has seen to that.  He got the wages we deserve for our sins.  And we get God’s free gift of eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.

          In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.