Not Fair!

Jesu Juva

St. Matthew 20:1-16                                 

September 20, 2026

Proper 20A                   

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        An hour’s pay for an hour’s work.  You reap what you sow.  You get out of it what you put into it.  A day’s work equals a day’s wage.  Those are the rules.  And we expect God to operate by those same rules.  We expect God to be fair—to recognize and reward our work.

        But today we learn that God is not fair.  He’s just.  He’s gracious.  But God is not fair.  And that’s good because grace isn’t fair.  The Law is fair; but the Gospel is grace alone.  Fairness means that means the first come in first, the last come in last, survival to the fittest, and the kingdom to those who achieve it.  But if it’s grace, then the first are last, and the kingdom goes to the least of all.  But I’m getting ahead of myself.  Let’s go to the parable, shall we?

        A man had a vineyard and needed laborers to pick his grapes.  He went to the union hall at 6AM and negotiated for some laborers, promising to pay them each a denarius at day’s end—about $100—a crisp C note featuring Ben Franklin’s portrait.  So off they went.  At 9AM he noticed he was still shorthanded.  So he went to Home Depot and found some laborers looking for work.  He told them, “You go work in the vineyard too, and whatever is right I will give you.”  (Note that: Whatever is right. Not whatever is fair.)

        He did exactly the same thing at noon and at 3PM—found some idlers hanging around and hired them for some unspecified wage.  By 5PM the sun was beginning to set and there was still work to do, and he needed more help.  So he went to the local tavern where some deadbeat losers had been hanging out all day, quaffing beers, because no one would hire them.  “You go into my vineyard too,” he says, not even promising to pay them a dime.  But they’re running low on funds for booze and weed, so off they go to work for one hour.  How hard can it be?

        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 eleventh hour losers to the crack of dawn Grape Pickers.  The first girl in line (one of the deadbeats from the tavern) opens her envelope expecting maybe Alexander Hamilton.  But who’s she find instead?  Our good buddy Benjamin on a crisp C note.  And so it continues.

        Pretty soon word filters back to the end of the line—back to the guys hired first—that those who worked only one hour got $100.  So they’re doing the math: $100 per hour times 12 hours, that comes to $1,200. And so, one by one, they step up to the table, expecting the biggest payday of their grape-picking lives.

        But in all their calculations they hadn’t figured on one thing.  The payout from the vineyard owner is all based on his goodness and his promises, and not on their work.  And in his infinite goodness, this guy gives a hundred dollar bill to each and every worker, regardless of how much or how little they worked.  Here’s your denarius.  “Not fair!” declare the sweaty, dirty, exhausted guys who worked all day long.  But the owner reminds them that he didn’t promise to be fair, but only 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; and that our salvation at the world’s final Miller Time is not based on our works, our achievements and accomplishments, 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 last-second, deathbed convert to Christ.  The religious elite howl in protest.  Not fair!  But then grace wouldn’t be grace, would it?  It would be bookkeeping.  Score-keeping.  And if the world could have been saved by keeping score, it would have been saved by Moses with his commandments, and not by Jesus with His bloody cross.

        A day’s wages for a day’s work.  That’s fair.  And that’s what we expect in this world.  This world operates by the rule of law. But Isaiah reminds us that God’s thoughts are not our thoughts.  His ways are not ours.  He deals with us not according to what’s fair, but according to His grace and His goodness.  If you want God to be fair—to deal with you according to your works and your accomplishments—then you will be damned.  That’s fair.  That’s the Law.  Hell is the one place where everybody gets exactly what they deserve.

        Some of us are like the workers hired first, or at least earlier in the day.  We were baptized as babies.  We grew up in the church.  There’s never really been a conscious moment in our lives when we didn’t know Jesus as our Savior.  We’ve worked in His vineyard our entire lives.  We’re not quite sure what to make of those eleventh hour converts who benefit from everyone else’s hard work—those who “got away” with never tithing, never serving on a committee, never attending a long church meeting, never having to get up early on Sunday. 

Whatever you make of them, for the love of God, don’t be jealous of them.  But do see God’s generosity in them and praise Jesus that it really is by grace alone, through faith alone, for the sake of Jesus Christ alone that sinners are made righteous.  Praise be to Jesus, because if there’s room enough in the kingdom for eleventh hour losers and deadbeats—for hookers, and tax collectors, and all manner of notorious sinners—well, then, there is surely enough room in the kingdom for you and me.

        Then again, let’s not overstate our position in the kingdom.  We really aren’t the first workers hired, are we?  Others have believed long before us.  Others have suffered before us—and much, much more than us.  There have been workers in this vineyard for two thousand years:  St. Matthew and St. Paul, St. Mary and St. Elizabeth, St. Polycarp and St. Augustine, Luther and Bach.  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).

        And now, in these last days, at the eleventh hour with the sun 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.  We are, really, the last and the least.  We come to the scene when much of the work is already done.  Yet, you get the same denarius—not a C note, but the same forgiveness of sins, the same salvation, 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, He 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.  And even the work you’re doing now—the good you do each and every day out of love for your neighbor—it’s all really God’s doing in you and through you.  And all this is what we call the “gospel.”  Good news.  Grace, not works.  Gift given, not wages earned.

        It’s outrageous!  There’s no denying that.  Whether first or last—whether we have worked hard, or little, or barely at all—there’s a generous payday coming to all who believe.  It was won for each of us by the death and resurrection of Jesus.  He got the wages we deserve for our sins.  We get His free gift of eternal life.  That’s not fair . . . because God isn’t fair.  But He is good.  And He is gracious.  Thanks be to God. 

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