Tag Archives: Philippians

“Are you envious because I am generous?” (September 20, AD2026; Proper 20)

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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).

The Damascus Road was the easy part

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A Sermon on the 6th Sunday of Easter (5/5/AD2013)

Acts 16:6-15; Psalm 67; Revelation 21:9-12, 21-22:5; John 14:23-29

We don’t often think of it in these terms, but the Book of Revelation may be the most important book in the Bible for understanding Christian worship. It offers a set of images to describe this world’s future: a future better than we deserve, a future we certainly can’t achieve. It is a future so glorious that it’s only right that we start celebrating, giving thanks for that future now. And so one of the most frequently used words for our worship is eucharist, a transliteration of the Greek word for celebration. Further, the same book describes the worship revealed to the seer: angels and archangels and all the company of heaven singing out “Worthy is the Lamb…” So in our Eucharistic prayers when we say “with Angels and Archangels and with all the company of heaven” we’re acknowledging that our worship is joining with something bigger.

That future is a given. “After this I looked, —writes John—and there was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, robed in white, with palm branches in their hands. They cried out in a loud voice, saying, ‘Salvation belongs to our God who is seated on the throne, and to the Lamb!’” (Rev 7:9-10 NRSV) In the midst of a world bleeding from more divisions than most of us can keep track of, it sounds wonderful. And we have the privilege of witnessing to this future now in our actions.

Wonderful. Piece of cake. Or—in light of the first reading—maybe not. Because if we pull out a map to make sense of those first verses it’s clear that Paul’s trying to go anywhere except Macedonia. And why would that be?

Well, although the Jews had been oppressed by many nations (Egypt, Assyria, Babylonia, etc.), it was only the Macedonians, Alexander the Great and the leaders who followed him, that had seriously tried to abolish Jewish faith and practice. Less than two hundred years earlier Antiochus Epiphanes, paragon of enlightenment, had offered countless Jews a simple choice: eat pork or be tortured to death. (Read about it in the books of Maccabees!) Which nation had shown itself to be the deadliest enemy of the Jews? Macedonia. And Paul was supposed to go there?

“Those who love me—Jesus had said—will keep my word.” Paul, loving Jesus in the only way that mattered—kept his word. It took the Holy Spirit vetoing his travel plans twice and a vision in the night, but Paul kept Jesus’ word, went to Macedonia.

That was good news for Macedonia: for Lydia and her household, for others whose story we’ll hear next week. It was good news for our ancestors, for Macedonia represented the beginning of Paul’s mission to Europe, to our people. It would be nice if Acts had reported that Paul was eager to evangelize our people. Kicking and screaming would be closer to the truth—but we’ll take it.

And it turned out to be good news for Paul as well. Years later he writes a letter that readers refer to as the joyous letter. There’s so much joy in the letter, joy over what’s happening in that city, the joy that the Christians there give Paul, the ways they nurture his spirit. And that’s the letter to the Philippians.

We come together each week to celebrate the future that God is preparing for this planet. People “from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages” will participate. Some days we find it easy to witness to that future; other days—like Paul—we find it not so easy. Some days we deal with folk we hope are part of that future; other days… “Those who love me—Jesus had said—will keep my word.” May God grant us grace to continue loving Jesus, to continue witnessing to his vision of our planet’s future each of our days.