Matthew 19.27-20.16
Amazing Grace: The Parable of the Workers in the Vineyard
Sermon
preached at the Church of Christ the Cornerstone Covenant Renewal
service, 18 September 2011
Amazing
Grace is a very popular hymn, the favourite in the USA. Because of
its popularity, familiarity, maybe our understanding of grace has
lost something of its cutting edge. If that’s the case there’s
nothing like the parable of the labourers in the vineyard to give us
a jolt. In a vivid and even abrasive story, the radical and
offensive nature of grace is depicted, inevitably leaving the hearer
saying, ‘But that’s just not fair’ and maybe having some
sympathy for those who’d worked all day.
The
setting would have been a familiar one. It was about a vineyard and
there were lots of vineyards in Israel. Israel herself was referred
to as a vineyard in the Old Testament, Isaiah 5.7, ‘The vineyard of
the LORD Almighty is the house of Israel’.
And
it was the harvest season. Because storms could ruin a crop there
was a race against time. Many labourers were employed on a casual
basis. They were like the migrant workers we have in our own
country, without regular jobs and dependent on others for any sort of
employment. The wage was typical if not generous for a twelve hour
day’s unskilled labour. But those looking for work were often
desperate and so they would wait even until 5 o’clock on the
off-chance that there might be some work for even an hour or so.
When
the vineyard owner arrives, he chooses some of those assembled for
work. Just for the sake of illustration, let’s say that thirty
labourers are there, and he chooses six and agrees to pay them the
going wage. As an aside, there is an injustice of sorts done here,
because out of thirty only six are hired. Yet there is no word of
protest from those who are chosen at this point. They are more than
pleased to have a whole day’s work ahead of them and the promise of
payment.
The
vineyard owner returns at nine o’clock and finds labourers still
standing there so he tells six more of them to go to his vineyard and
promises to pay them whatever is right. At twelve noon he does the
same and also at three o’clock in the afternoon. At five o’clock
with just one hour left there are still six labourers standing there,
hoping against hope to get some work so that they can put something
on the table. The vineyard owner asks, ‘Why are you standing here
idle all day?’ They reply, ‘Because no-one has hired us.’
‘You also go into the vineyard.’
I
want you to notice that at this point everyone is partially
satisfied. Everyone had received at least a portion of what he had
wanted at the start of the day. No one was going away empty-handed.
Then
at the end of the day, the owner says to his manager, ‘Call the
labourers and give them their pay, beginning with the last and then
going to the first.’ When those who have worked just one hour are
paid they discover to their astonishment that they are given the wage
for a full day. When those who came at three, at noon, at nine, and
at six are paid, they are given the same amount. And it’s at this
point that there’s trouble. ‘These last worked only one hour, and
you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day
and the scorching heat.’
The
vineyard owner doesn’t hide behind his manager and let someone else
clear up the trouble. Instead, he says, ‘Friend’, and that’s
an interesting word when used by Jesus like this. ‘Friend, I am
doing you no wrong; did you not agree with me for the usual daily
wage? Take what belongs to you and go; I choose to give this last
the same as I give to you. Am I not allowed to do what I choose with
what belongs to me? Or are you envious because I am generous?’
So
let’s have a rain-check - how do we feel? I’m tempted to ask who
thinks the owner was fair, and who thinks he wasn’t fair. It’s a
natural reaction. Surely if the world operated like this people
would sleep in, arrive late, and get paid for the whole day. The
whole ‘equal pay for equal work’ principle would come unstuck.
But it’s to miss the point, and to miss the question, which is,
‘What is the kingdom of heaven like? What is God like?’ Does he
give us what we we’re due, what we deserve, what we earn? Or does
he treat us in a manner which is of a completely different order?
Such as gift, or as we call it, grace?
Jewish Parable
At the beginning of Jesus's parable we are told that this is what the king of heaven is like. And we know from the whole of Jesus's teaching that the king of heaven is in fact a very peculiar kingdom to our way of thinking. It is an upside-down kingdom. It sets the established order on it head. It constantly challenges our assumptions. And what God’s kingdom is like is a mirror of what God is like.
And
the word that describes it is grace. But the fact is that our world
doesn’t operate on grace. Instead, we are so used to things coming
to us on the basis of merit, because we have worked hard and long and
in tough conditions, and because we deserve them. And to show how
deeply this is ingrained, if you don’t believe me just ask yourself
how easily you receive something without having to pay for it, a
gift, a favour, a compliment.
But
God doesn’t operate like this. In his kingdom he gives us not
what we deserve. This is called mercy. And on the contrary God
gives us what we don’t deserve, forgiveness, acceptance, a
relationship with him. This is called grace. And he gives us his
grace in abundance. Ephesians 2.1-10. CS Lewis, ‘extravagant
generosity’.
This
means that we’re all on the same level. All are equally
undeserving. There are no rankings. There is no first and last. No
one can claim privileged status or special membership of the kingdom
of heaven. In relation to God it does us no good to say, ‘My
parents were Christians’, ‘I lead a good life’, ‘I’ve
always gone to church’, ‘I’ve been a Church Officer for more
years than I can remember’, ‘I’m a Baptist Minister’, ‘I’m
a Regional Minister’.
Our
personal connections don’t do it. And our worthy achievements, all
that we do for God, doesn’t do it. God isn’t overly impressed,
it doesn’t win his approval. The king of heaven, knowing God,
begins with him, and his generosity to everyone.
God’s
grace isn’t the sort of thing you bargain with, or try to store up.
It isn’t the sort of thing that one person has a lot of and
someone else only a small amount. And actually the point of the
story is that what people get from serving God and his kingdom, isn’t
a ‘wage’ at all. It’s not a reward for work done. God doesn’t
enter into contracts with us, as if we could negotiate a better deal.
God makes covenants, in which he promises us everything and asks of
us everything in return. When he keeps his promises - which is what
he does - he isn’t so much rewarding us, as doing what comes
naturally from his extravagantly generous nature. And this is what
you celebrate today on your Covenant Sunday. You make covenant with
each other but only because God out of grace has made covenant with
you.
This
story wouldn’t have gone down a bundle with the Pharisees who were
contemptuous of the common people. It wouldn’t have gone down
brilliantly with the Jews in general. They’d spent two millennia
punctiliously trying to keep the law and the thought of despised
Gentiles welcomed on equal terms to them – not on your life.
But
then maybe this parable wasn’t so much for them, as for the
disciples themselves, and disciples in subsequent generations, you
and me.
If
you go back to the end of the previous chapter Jesus says to the
disciples, Matthew 19.30. It may have seemed that ‘the first’
were the rich and powerful, whereas ‘the last’ meant the
disciples themselves. However, that saying was part of the answer to
Peter after his self-centred question in v. 27. It’s possible that
Jesus is intending this saying about first and last, to be a warning
to the disciples themselves. ‘Don’t think that because you’ve
been close to me so far, you are now the favoured few for all time.’
In
this parable Jesus warns them, and us, that they may have set out
with him from the beginning, but others may come in much later and
end up getting paid just the same, the regular daily wage.
In
both Jesus's parable and the other one, some individuals had nothing,
were undeserving, knew themselves to be powerless, and then grace
erupted in their lives. As long as they focused on what had been
given to them, they were filled with joy. However, as soon as they
made comparisons with someone else, their joy was turned to
bitterness. They didn’t have a problem with grace, they had a
problem with grace shown to others.
It’s
been said, ‘If you want to be miserable, compare what you have to
someone else.’ Invariably there will be someone who has done
better than you for some reason or the other.
For
some people, the very notion of grace is a scandal, an offence. But
for other people, the fact that grace is shown to others makes it ten
times worse.
We
can all too easily assume that we are the special ones, God’s inner
circle. The fact is that God is out there in the marketplace,
looking for the people nobody wants, and who everybody else tries
not to hire, welcoming them on the very same terms and surprising
them with his extravagant generosity. Who are they? – the very
people who maybe you would rather not see in Christ the Cornerstone.
And sometimes it’s hard to stomach. ‘Look we have left
everything and followed you. What then will we have.’ Matthew
19.27.
This
parable is a challenge to us because although we speak and sing
frequently of grace, we lose sight of just how radical, how
scandalous it is. Instead we domesticate it, we make it manageable,
and yet there is a wildness about God’s grace to us his people, and
God’s grace to those not yet his people. ‘Radical grace has most
often been too radical for most Christians. We most often put
conditions on God’s grace: God accepts you if … And
whenever an “if” clause is added, grace becomes conditional and
ceases to be grace.’
On
this Covenant Sunday, let’s celebrate the grace of God for
ourselves, and especially as we covenant together in our vision of
unity. But let’s make sure that the vision of unity doesn’t
become such a preoccupation that we fail to give ourselves to the
wider vision and to have eyes to see where God’s grace is breaking
out in unlikely places, among unlikely people.
