Readings (Track 2)

Today’s parable starts with a familiar scene, a landowner hiring workers early in the morning. But then the landowner keeps going out to hire, even as late as five in the afternoon. In the evening the workers are paid, starting with those last hired. They receive the usual daily wage (surprise!) and those hired first receive the same wage (big, unpleasant surprise!). There’s a conversation about that, and then Jesus closes the parable with “So the last will be first, and the first will be last.”

“So the last will be first, and the first will be last.” That only partially matches the parable; what’s it doing there? It turns out that it links this parable with two conversations that Matthew’s recently narrated. At the beginning of Matthew 18, the disciples ask Jesus “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” Jesus puts a child in their midst: “Whoever becomes humble like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.” I suspect that Jesus’ response went in one ear and out the other, because in the next chapter, after the encounter with the rich young man, who asks what to do to have eternal life but balks at Jesus’ answer (“sell your possessions and follow me”), Peter says “Look, we have left everything and followed you. What then will we have?” That sounds like another version of “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” Jesus responds with breathtaking promises—which end with “But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first” (Mt 19:30). So today’s vineyard parable looks like a continuation of Jesus’ response to Peter.

Peter’s question (implicitly) and the parable (explicitly) focus the question of God’s justice. In the parable justice is affirmed: “did you not agree with me for the usual daily wage?” But justice is not the only value in play: “Or are you envious because I am generous?” And that question is pretty much the backbone of this sermon. On the one hand, the landowner (God!) values generosity over justice. As James puts it: “mercy triumphs over judgment” (2:13). On the other hand, demands for justice can sometimes—not always—be expressions of envy, part of the “Who is the greatest?” competition.

Our lectionary chose—appropriately—Psalm 145 and the ending of Jonah to accompany today’s Gospel. Recall in particular the last verse of the psalm that we read: “The Lord is gracious and full of compassion, / slow to anger and of great kindness.” That’s good news—until applied to those guys who only worked one hour in the vineyard or our competitors or enemies.

Our enemies—which brings us to the Book of Jonah. God had called Jonah to prophesy against Nineveh, capital of the Assyrian Empire, the chief threat to Jonah’s nation’s survival. Jonah had fled that call, and there was that business with the large fish. So Jonah finally arrived, prophesied, Nineveh repented, and the Lord repented of the threatened calamity, bringing us to today’s reading. Jonah explains why he fled: “[F]or I knew that you are a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love” (Jon 4:2). (Parenthetically, both Jonah and the psalm are quoting from the Lord’s self-description in the wake of the Golden Calf incident, easily the most important self-description in the First Testament, which description was the reason why there was an Israel after the Golden Calf incident.) Jonah saw—rightly—that “gracious” and “merciful” threatened the justice he quite understandably wanted visited on Nineveh.

The lesson here is not that it’s a bad idea to argue with the Lord about justice. The First Testament in fact records two strikingly similar arguments over the fate of cities: this one, and the argument with Abraham about Sodom. That one is explicitly about justice: “Shall not the Judge of all the earth do what is just?” (Gen 18:25) And by the end of the conversation the Lord has agreed that ten righteous will spare the city. Both Abraham and Jonah are arguing for justice, but Abraham is the one leaning into the Lord’s gracious mercy. There are different ways one can argue for justice; “be more like Abraham” might not be a bad take-away.

As I noticed earlier, “So the last will be first, and the first will be last” links back to the disciples’ question “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” Among other things, it’s Jesus’ warning that in most circumstances that’s a really unhelpful question. But it keeps appearing. We humans find it really difficult to drop out of that game. Even the Philippians.

Paul’s letter to the Philippians, which we’ll be hearing also the next three Sundays, is a study in Middle Eastern indirection. He doesn’t get around to what looks like one of his chief concerns until last chapter: “I urge Euodia and I urge Syntyche to be of the same mind in the Lord. Yes, and I ask you also, my loyal companion, help these women, for they have struggled beside me in the work of the gospel” (4:2-3a). And already in the first chapter (in the part the lectionary omits) he’s preparing the ground. Speaking of his imprisonment: “Some proclaim Christ from envy and rivalry, but others from goodwill. These proclaim Christ out of love, knowing that I have been put here for the defense of the gospel; the others proclaim Christ out of selfish ambition, not sincerely but intending to increase my suffering in my imprisonment” (1:15-17). Paul’s not ready to talk about envy and rivalry in Philippi, but he wants to get the subject on the table. Envy and rivalry can power a lot of very good work. But envy and rivalry are fatal to what Paul considers most important: “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus” (2:5). So in today’s reading: “live your life in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ… standing firm in one spirit, striving side by side with one mind for the faith of the gospel” (italics mine).

Two bottom lines for this sermon suggest themselves. First, since there are various ways of calling for justice, better to be like Abraham than Jonah. We really want to avoid Jesus asking us “Or are you envious because I am generous?”

Second, ironically, our failure to disengage from the “Who is the greatest?” game can drive much good work, creating its own sort of blindness. We really want to avoid participating in that scene described by Jesus toward the end of the Sermon on the Mount: “On that day many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many deeds of power in your name?’ Then I will declare to them, ‘I never knew you; go away from me, you evildoers’” (Mat 7:22-23).

As I mentioned, Jonah and our psalm draw from the Lord’s self-description in Exodus. Let’s close with that:

“The LORD passed before him, and proclaimed, ‘The LORD, the LORD, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness, keeping steadfast love for the thousandth generation, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin, yet by no means clearing the guilty, but visiting the iniquity of the parents upon the children and the children’s children, to the third and the fourth generation.’ And Moses quickly bowed his head toward the earth, and worshiped” (34:6-8).