Are you satisfied?
Commentary
Object:
When my wife was younger, her father typically ended meal times by declaring loudly that he was "sufficiently suffonsified!" It was his way of asserting complete satisfaction.
"Satisfaction Guaranteed" is the testimony hung behind customer service counters and repair shop bill stations. Generally we know what that means because we tie it to returns and restorations. If something doesn't suit us, we return it and recover the money we spent in purchasing it. If something is broken and needs repair, the restoration specialists will make it run again for no payment.
So our satisfactions are connected to desires that we expect someone else to meet. But what if our desires are unrealistic? What if we do things for a crabby child who does not seek, in fact, to be placated? "Are you satisfied now?!" we may yell but there is likely no amount of kindness that will fill this demanding black hole of untempered greed.
Social classes in hierarchy tend to press satisfaction into unrealistic shapes as well. Those with wealth expect that others will respond to their desires within certain time frames, or with certain products, or ahead of others in lines and queues simply because they can offer more money. "I have a right to be satisfied!" they might proclaim forcefully. "I'm paying you and you had better make sure I'm satisfied!"
So we equate justice and satisfaction in our daily parlance. We seek justice and we will have satisfaction. If justice is not done then satisfaction cannot be applied to the equation.
For that reason, today's lectionary readings are upsetting. The Israelites demand from Moses and Yahweh that they receive food enough to satisfy their gluttony. When it is provided, however, no one is truly satisfied. In the New Testament, Paul would like to die and meet his Maker and find rest from the grueling demands of his God-ordained and people-intensive ministry. Yet he knows he will not likely have his desire satisfied because the needs of others trump his own wishes. Jesus explores wishes, wants, desires, and satisfaction in his terribly unjust parable of the workers in the vineyard. God is compared to the most unjust employer of all times. Isn't it right for those who look to God and hear the divine query "Are you satisfied?" to stomp their feet and resoundingly shout back to heaven, "No, we're not!"?
Exodus 16:2-15
One morning when we lived in another city, our neighbor jumped up on the high wooden fence that he built to protect his private world and yelled at me for mowing the lawn while he was trying to sleep. It was the middle of the day but he had stayed out late the night before and was trying to make up for lost time. He complained about a lot of things and I thought his request more than a little unreasonable. Even so, I turned off the mower and gave him another hour-and-a-half.
We don't like complainers. "Nagging isn't horse sense!" says one proverb. "When you feel dog-tired at night," accuses another, "it may be because you growled all day!"
As our Old Testament reading today indicates, complaining seems to be an essential element of the human condition. In 1770 Edmund Burke published a little treatise called Thoughts on the Cause of the Present Discontents. His perception sounds quite contemporary as well as reflective on ancient Israel: "To complain of the age we live in, to murmur at the present possessors of power, to lament the past, to conceive extravagant hopes of the future, are the common dispositions of the greatest part of humankind."
Like those of the Israelites, our complaints often seem excessive. British poet Matthew Arnold was neither kind nor gracious. He was known for his overly critical eye. One time he stayed at the home of an American family while on a speaking tour. His hostess offered him pancakes for breakfast. Arnold took one, tasted it, and then passed the plate to his wife. "Do try one, my dear," he said. "They're not as nasty as they look!"
When he died, one of his neighbors said of him, "Poor Matthew; he won't like God." We are tempted to say that about the Israelites when reading today's lectionary passage: the Israelites don't seem to like God either. After all, they open their conversations by telling Moses and God that they have a right to complain. Isn't that a bit sacrilegious?
Probably much of our mean-spirited whining is. However consider this: Our excessive complaining is actually a reflection of the excessive evil that surrounds us and even spills out from our own hearts. Perhaps if we ever stop complaining about that we won't have a prayer left.
Philippians 1:21-30
Four of Paul's letters mention that he is a prisoner at the time of their writing: Ephesians (3:1; 4:1; 6:20), Philippians (1:13-17), Colossians (4:10; 4:18), and Philemon (1; 23). According to the book of Acts (and a brief reference in 2 Corinthians 12:23), Paul was imprisoned a number of times. On most of these occasions, however, his incarceration was very brief (e.g., in Philippi; Acts 16:16-40). Two imprisonments, though, were of significant duration: his two-year stint in Caesarean confinement (Acts 24) and the doublet of years he spent in Rome while waiting for Caesar to hear his appeal (Acts 28:30). Paul's prison letters could have been written from either of these, though there are good reasons to opt for Roman origins.
Paul's reference to the "whole palace" in 1:13 could possibly indicate a provenance of Caesarea as well as Rome (though not as likely) but the specific note about fellow Christians "who belong to Caesar's household" (4:22) can hardly be taken as anything other than the royal courts of the empire capital. Because of such clues it is very reasonable to understand that Paul's prison letters were written while he was in Rome between 57 and 59 AD.
There are also some hints that Philippians was written earlier in this stay and the other three near the end of it. Paul appears to be somewhat settled into prison life as he writes to the Philippians, while it is clear in his note to Philemon that Paul expects to be released soon and free again to travel.
A reasonable chronology of these letters and the events surrounding them might begin with these notes about Philippians:
• Sometime in the spring of 57 AD Paul arrived in Rome. While he was clearly a prisoner awaiting adjudication before Caesar himself, Paul was also a Roman citizen with rights and freedoms. Since the charges against him were sectarian (related to Jewish religious practices) rather than capital crimes, Paul was able to establish his own living circumstances within the larger palace precincts while remaining under a type of house arrest.
• Probably late in 57 AD or early in 58, Epaphroditus, who had been serving as pastor or congregational leader in Philippi, brought Paul a rather significant gift from that church (Philippians 2:25; 4:10). It may have included both money and supplies, in any case, it greatly enhanced Paul's comfort in his limited circumstances.
• Epaphroditus stayed on with Paul for some time, assisting him as a servant. Unfortunately, Epaphroditus became ill and nearly died (Philippians 2:25-30) and only very recently had returned to full health.
• Paul believed that homesickness for Philippi and the congregation there might have contributed to Epaphroditus' grave malady and vowed to send him back home as soon as he was able to travel. Of course, a letter of appreciation and encouragement was a necessary part of all these things so Paul penned Philippians probably sometime in early 58 AD.
Paul's letter to the Philippians is the most joyful and uplifting note of the entire New Testament. Even in Paul's confinement, he is filled with delight in his relationships and amazed at what God is doing (Philippians 1), particularly, as he notes in our reading for today, because of the triangle of God's relationship with him, his relationship with the Philippians, and the Philippians' relationship with God. Together these form a cord of three strands where "gain" is to be found whenever the weave is the tightest. So, for Paul to remain available to the Philippians is wonderful even though it tugs him a bit away from eternal ecstasy in the presence of God.
Although other letters of Paul are more intentionally "theological," this small epistle has a particularly wonderful poetic reflection encapsulating the entire ministry of Christ in a few lines (Philippians 2:6-11). Because of its condensed and hymnic character, some think Paul brought these verses into his letter from an early popular Christian song or creedal statement. Perhaps so. Nevertheless, the whole of this short book is lyrical and reaches for the superlatives in life through lines that are both economical and majestic: "Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable -- if anything is excellent or praiseworthy -- think about such things" (Philippians 4:8). That is the outcome of what Paul begins to write in the paragraphs we consider today.
Matthew 20:1-16
The first half of Jesus' parable in today's gospel reading stirs our souls. God is like a benevolent employer who keeps looking for the jobless in an attempt to give everyone a fair shake in life. We can see, in this, God's persistence in seeking us and God's resources that never seem to be taxed beyond limit and God's kindness in treating all of us as if we were important and God's providential care by meeting our needs in whatever our various circumstances. The employer/God, at the beginning of this fine story of Jesus, is a kindly patron of a typical community making certain that all will be cared for on heaven's generous tab.
Then the story changes and very quickly dark clouds storm our way. First, the kindly gentleman-deity mocks protocol by making those who labored longest stand at the back of the pay line. Should not those who came early and worked hardest get first rewards? In our books, yes, but not so in Jesus' upsetting tale. The ones who barely broke a sweat are palmed off with a too-generous reward as if they had a right to sit at the front of the bus. What makes this more disconcerting is the fact that everyone in this small community had the possibility of arriving at the hiring square at the same time in the morning. Those who were hired first were obviously more aggressive in their efforts at seeking work; those who were hired later had already wasted a portion of the job-seekers' morning scramble and could well be written off as lazy. Now they are pandered to once again and it certainly does not seem right!
Second, the wages are equal but not fair. Everyone gets the same reward for the day's work expenditures. The problem is that some have hardly flexed a muscle and never spotted their lily-white hands while others stink and moan from sweat and strain. The fact that all are getting paid adequately, according to local scale, is really beside the point. Some earned a fair-day's pay for a fair-day's efforts, while others are simply slurping in the cash cream without having to grit in the grind.
Third, the insensitive line-up at the pay booth only accentuates the problem. If the kindly master had paid off the early workers with their expected single denarius, they could have vacated the premises before the Rich One's excessive reward to the laggards. So when the crew was forced to line up from last come to first arrived, the "equal pay for unequal work" was essentially rubbed in the noses of those who had most reason to be indignant with it. As Jesus notes, the folks who worked longer and harder were led to expect a bonus for their strenuous efforts. When it did not come, they felt fully justified in complaining bitterly.
Fourth, the kindness of God personified in benevolent village patriarch speaks kindly about justice ("Friend, I am not being unfair to you. Didn't you agree to work for a denarius?") but acts in a manner that reeks of graft and patronage. "Don't I have a right to do what I want with my own money?" he asks. But didn't it stop being his money the moment he agreed to exchange it for well-meant labor? Somehow, Jesus' blithe statement, "So the last will be first, and the first will be last," rankles us. We know that we have to knuckle down under this theologically sound assertion but like the boy who was forced to sit down on a chair when he did not want to, we seethe and sneer, "With my body I may be sitting, but in my heart I'm still standing!"
Unless we are missing something or maybe several things, our first perspectives are generally built upon the assumption that we are part of the first workers crew. Haven't we been in the church a longer time than many? Haven't we given of our time and talents for service in the kingdom? We are the early birds who have now gotten a worm out of the deal and we'd rather have more money. So we nurse our resentment against those who seem to peek into the door of the church and suddenly are blessed and baptized and bombarded with kindness. All well and good for them but what about us?
Second, we have the mistaken notion that "fairness" is related to our self-perceptions of worth. We are privileged because of who we are, we think, and not because of whose we are. Parents can never love all their children exactly equally but they certainly can love them all fairly, since love is not the response to each child's intrinsic worth, but depends, instead, upon the parents' initiatives of identification and benevolence. Children are not loved because they are worthy; they are worthy because they are loved. Once "fairness" enters the equations of relational love, it transforms those engaged from beings to commodities.
Third, we often assume that we are somehow worth more than others. Researchers find that 80% of students in a class will assert that they are above average. We are taught that we are "special" and that we must "claim our rights" or demand our "fair share." What if, as C.S. Lewis once opined, we are not living in a luxury hotel with every right to demand great service but rather are trapped in a prison where every kindness is a grace.
So we are drawn back into our world by Jesus' horrifying story. Only we now understand that we have lately arrived at the place where we know that our lives depend on the help and graciousness of God. None of us has a "right," but by the politics and economics of heaven, all of us have become "privileged." We are not loved because we are worthy; we are worthy because we are loved. And that makes all the difference when someone asks us, "Are you satisfied?"
Application
You see them almost every day: children wearing tops that boldly proclaim: MY FOLKS WENT TO FLORIDA AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS DUMB SWEATSHIRT! Or on the plastic frame around a license plate: WE'RE SPENDING OUR CHILDREN'S INHERITANCE.
These testimonies share a common assumption: We have a right to share in the blessings experienced by those over us in society. My parents must share their goodies with me. My employer must give me a raise if he makes more money himself. The rich in a society must distribute their wealth among the poor.
Kingdom economic theory doesn't necessarily change the system in dramatic ways. Nor does it significantly alter our needs. But it does defuse our greed. After all, remember what Jesus said? "Seek first the kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things shall be yours as well." That might well be the first thing we should think about when asked, "Are you satisfied?"
Alternative Application
Matthew 20:1-16. One of my childhood Sunday school songs went like this:
In country, town, or city, some people can be found
Who spend their lives in grumbling at everything around!
Oh, yes, they always grumble, no matter what you say,
For these are chronic grumblers, and they grumble night and day!
The chorus led us through the days of the week and the constant nagging of these folks' grumbling. I thought of that when I read of a medical study that concluded chronic complainers tend to live longer than people who have a mild and pleasant disposition. In other words, if you are irritable and cranky you have a better chance of living to be a hundred.
But one person, at least, questioned those findings. He says complainers do not necessarily live longer; it just seems like it to those around them!
How should we deal with the cruelties and unfairness of life? Our human nature says, "Strike back in kind! Live by the motto: Do unto others before they have a chance to do it to you!" In politics, in the church, in our homes it is all the same thing -- name-calling, mud-slinging, bitterness, and sarcasm. Others did it to us and we'll do it back.
Jesus' parable is not designed to frustrate us but rather to reset our values sight. I know a couple whose only son was killed by a drunk driver who was driving without a license and had no insurance. Friends and lawyers urged them to sue the man and his wealthy parents for all they were worth. The courts would gladly judge this travesty in their favor.
"No," they replied. "We refuse to live that way." Instead, with patient love, they slowly built a relationship with the young wastrel. Eventually they took him from prison into their home and allowed him to become another son to them in place of the one who was lost to them under this man's car.
Did he deserve such kindness? Did these people give what was fair? Certainly not. But they lived the gospel that is stronger than revenge. Grace is not putting up with something because we have no way out; rather it is choosing to stick with people and continuing to love them even when we could become angry, mean, or hurtful -- even when we could just turn our back and walk away.
Somehow that sounds a lot like God!
"Satisfaction Guaranteed" is the testimony hung behind customer service counters and repair shop bill stations. Generally we know what that means because we tie it to returns and restorations. If something doesn't suit us, we return it and recover the money we spent in purchasing it. If something is broken and needs repair, the restoration specialists will make it run again for no payment.
So our satisfactions are connected to desires that we expect someone else to meet. But what if our desires are unrealistic? What if we do things for a crabby child who does not seek, in fact, to be placated? "Are you satisfied now?!" we may yell but there is likely no amount of kindness that will fill this demanding black hole of untempered greed.
Social classes in hierarchy tend to press satisfaction into unrealistic shapes as well. Those with wealth expect that others will respond to their desires within certain time frames, or with certain products, or ahead of others in lines and queues simply because they can offer more money. "I have a right to be satisfied!" they might proclaim forcefully. "I'm paying you and you had better make sure I'm satisfied!"
So we equate justice and satisfaction in our daily parlance. We seek justice and we will have satisfaction. If justice is not done then satisfaction cannot be applied to the equation.
For that reason, today's lectionary readings are upsetting. The Israelites demand from Moses and Yahweh that they receive food enough to satisfy their gluttony. When it is provided, however, no one is truly satisfied. In the New Testament, Paul would like to die and meet his Maker and find rest from the grueling demands of his God-ordained and people-intensive ministry. Yet he knows he will not likely have his desire satisfied because the needs of others trump his own wishes. Jesus explores wishes, wants, desires, and satisfaction in his terribly unjust parable of the workers in the vineyard. God is compared to the most unjust employer of all times. Isn't it right for those who look to God and hear the divine query "Are you satisfied?" to stomp their feet and resoundingly shout back to heaven, "No, we're not!"?
Exodus 16:2-15
One morning when we lived in another city, our neighbor jumped up on the high wooden fence that he built to protect his private world and yelled at me for mowing the lawn while he was trying to sleep. It was the middle of the day but he had stayed out late the night before and was trying to make up for lost time. He complained about a lot of things and I thought his request more than a little unreasonable. Even so, I turned off the mower and gave him another hour-and-a-half.
We don't like complainers. "Nagging isn't horse sense!" says one proverb. "When you feel dog-tired at night," accuses another, "it may be because you growled all day!"
As our Old Testament reading today indicates, complaining seems to be an essential element of the human condition. In 1770 Edmund Burke published a little treatise called Thoughts on the Cause of the Present Discontents. His perception sounds quite contemporary as well as reflective on ancient Israel: "To complain of the age we live in, to murmur at the present possessors of power, to lament the past, to conceive extravagant hopes of the future, are the common dispositions of the greatest part of humankind."
Like those of the Israelites, our complaints often seem excessive. British poet Matthew Arnold was neither kind nor gracious. He was known for his overly critical eye. One time he stayed at the home of an American family while on a speaking tour. His hostess offered him pancakes for breakfast. Arnold took one, tasted it, and then passed the plate to his wife. "Do try one, my dear," he said. "They're not as nasty as they look!"
When he died, one of his neighbors said of him, "Poor Matthew; he won't like God." We are tempted to say that about the Israelites when reading today's lectionary passage: the Israelites don't seem to like God either. After all, they open their conversations by telling Moses and God that they have a right to complain. Isn't that a bit sacrilegious?
Probably much of our mean-spirited whining is. However consider this: Our excessive complaining is actually a reflection of the excessive evil that surrounds us and even spills out from our own hearts. Perhaps if we ever stop complaining about that we won't have a prayer left.
Philippians 1:21-30
Four of Paul's letters mention that he is a prisoner at the time of their writing: Ephesians (3:1; 4:1; 6:20), Philippians (1:13-17), Colossians (4:10; 4:18), and Philemon (1; 23). According to the book of Acts (and a brief reference in 2 Corinthians 12:23), Paul was imprisoned a number of times. On most of these occasions, however, his incarceration was very brief (e.g., in Philippi; Acts 16:16-40). Two imprisonments, though, were of significant duration: his two-year stint in Caesarean confinement (Acts 24) and the doublet of years he spent in Rome while waiting for Caesar to hear his appeal (Acts 28:30). Paul's prison letters could have been written from either of these, though there are good reasons to opt for Roman origins.
Paul's reference to the "whole palace" in 1:13 could possibly indicate a provenance of Caesarea as well as Rome (though not as likely) but the specific note about fellow Christians "who belong to Caesar's household" (4:22) can hardly be taken as anything other than the royal courts of the empire capital. Because of such clues it is very reasonable to understand that Paul's prison letters were written while he was in Rome between 57 and 59 AD.
There are also some hints that Philippians was written earlier in this stay and the other three near the end of it. Paul appears to be somewhat settled into prison life as he writes to the Philippians, while it is clear in his note to Philemon that Paul expects to be released soon and free again to travel.
A reasonable chronology of these letters and the events surrounding them might begin with these notes about Philippians:
• Sometime in the spring of 57 AD Paul arrived in Rome. While he was clearly a prisoner awaiting adjudication before Caesar himself, Paul was also a Roman citizen with rights and freedoms. Since the charges against him were sectarian (related to Jewish religious practices) rather than capital crimes, Paul was able to establish his own living circumstances within the larger palace precincts while remaining under a type of house arrest.
• Probably late in 57 AD or early in 58, Epaphroditus, who had been serving as pastor or congregational leader in Philippi, brought Paul a rather significant gift from that church (Philippians 2:25; 4:10). It may have included both money and supplies, in any case, it greatly enhanced Paul's comfort in his limited circumstances.
• Epaphroditus stayed on with Paul for some time, assisting him as a servant. Unfortunately, Epaphroditus became ill and nearly died (Philippians 2:25-30) and only very recently had returned to full health.
• Paul believed that homesickness for Philippi and the congregation there might have contributed to Epaphroditus' grave malady and vowed to send him back home as soon as he was able to travel. Of course, a letter of appreciation and encouragement was a necessary part of all these things so Paul penned Philippians probably sometime in early 58 AD.
Paul's letter to the Philippians is the most joyful and uplifting note of the entire New Testament. Even in Paul's confinement, he is filled with delight in his relationships and amazed at what God is doing (Philippians 1), particularly, as he notes in our reading for today, because of the triangle of God's relationship with him, his relationship with the Philippians, and the Philippians' relationship with God. Together these form a cord of three strands where "gain" is to be found whenever the weave is the tightest. So, for Paul to remain available to the Philippians is wonderful even though it tugs him a bit away from eternal ecstasy in the presence of God.
Although other letters of Paul are more intentionally "theological," this small epistle has a particularly wonderful poetic reflection encapsulating the entire ministry of Christ in a few lines (Philippians 2:6-11). Because of its condensed and hymnic character, some think Paul brought these verses into his letter from an early popular Christian song or creedal statement. Perhaps so. Nevertheless, the whole of this short book is lyrical and reaches for the superlatives in life through lines that are both economical and majestic: "Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable -- if anything is excellent or praiseworthy -- think about such things" (Philippians 4:8). That is the outcome of what Paul begins to write in the paragraphs we consider today.
Matthew 20:1-16
The first half of Jesus' parable in today's gospel reading stirs our souls. God is like a benevolent employer who keeps looking for the jobless in an attempt to give everyone a fair shake in life. We can see, in this, God's persistence in seeking us and God's resources that never seem to be taxed beyond limit and God's kindness in treating all of us as if we were important and God's providential care by meeting our needs in whatever our various circumstances. The employer/God, at the beginning of this fine story of Jesus, is a kindly patron of a typical community making certain that all will be cared for on heaven's generous tab.
Then the story changes and very quickly dark clouds storm our way. First, the kindly gentleman-deity mocks protocol by making those who labored longest stand at the back of the pay line. Should not those who came early and worked hardest get first rewards? In our books, yes, but not so in Jesus' upsetting tale. The ones who barely broke a sweat are palmed off with a too-generous reward as if they had a right to sit at the front of the bus. What makes this more disconcerting is the fact that everyone in this small community had the possibility of arriving at the hiring square at the same time in the morning. Those who were hired first were obviously more aggressive in their efforts at seeking work; those who were hired later had already wasted a portion of the job-seekers' morning scramble and could well be written off as lazy. Now they are pandered to once again and it certainly does not seem right!
Second, the wages are equal but not fair. Everyone gets the same reward for the day's work expenditures. The problem is that some have hardly flexed a muscle and never spotted their lily-white hands while others stink and moan from sweat and strain. The fact that all are getting paid adequately, according to local scale, is really beside the point. Some earned a fair-day's pay for a fair-day's efforts, while others are simply slurping in the cash cream without having to grit in the grind.
Third, the insensitive line-up at the pay booth only accentuates the problem. If the kindly master had paid off the early workers with their expected single denarius, they could have vacated the premises before the Rich One's excessive reward to the laggards. So when the crew was forced to line up from last come to first arrived, the "equal pay for unequal work" was essentially rubbed in the noses of those who had most reason to be indignant with it. As Jesus notes, the folks who worked longer and harder were led to expect a bonus for their strenuous efforts. When it did not come, they felt fully justified in complaining bitterly.
Fourth, the kindness of God personified in benevolent village patriarch speaks kindly about justice ("Friend, I am not being unfair to you. Didn't you agree to work for a denarius?") but acts in a manner that reeks of graft and patronage. "Don't I have a right to do what I want with my own money?" he asks. But didn't it stop being his money the moment he agreed to exchange it for well-meant labor? Somehow, Jesus' blithe statement, "So the last will be first, and the first will be last," rankles us. We know that we have to knuckle down under this theologically sound assertion but like the boy who was forced to sit down on a chair when he did not want to, we seethe and sneer, "With my body I may be sitting, but in my heart I'm still standing!"
Unless we are missing something or maybe several things, our first perspectives are generally built upon the assumption that we are part of the first workers crew. Haven't we been in the church a longer time than many? Haven't we given of our time and talents for service in the kingdom? We are the early birds who have now gotten a worm out of the deal and we'd rather have more money. So we nurse our resentment against those who seem to peek into the door of the church and suddenly are blessed and baptized and bombarded with kindness. All well and good for them but what about us?
Second, we have the mistaken notion that "fairness" is related to our self-perceptions of worth. We are privileged because of who we are, we think, and not because of whose we are. Parents can never love all their children exactly equally but they certainly can love them all fairly, since love is not the response to each child's intrinsic worth, but depends, instead, upon the parents' initiatives of identification and benevolence. Children are not loved because they are worthy; they are worthy because they are loved. Once "fairness" enters the equations of relational love, it transforms those engaged from beings to commodities.
Third, we often assume that we are somehow worth more than others. Researchers find that 80% of students in a class will assert that they are above average. We are taught that we are "special" and that we must "claim our rights" or demand our "fair share." What if, as C.S. Lewis once opined, we are not living in a luxury hotel with every right to demand great service but rather are trapped in a prison where every kindness is a grace.
So we are drawn back into our world by Jesus' horrifying story. Only we now understand that we have lately arrived at the place where we know that our lives depend on the help and graciousness of God. None of us has a "right," but by the politics and economics of heaven, all of us have become "privileged." We are not loved because we are worthy; we are worthy because we are loved. And that makes all the difference when someone asks us, "Are you satisfied?"
Application
You see them almost every day: children wearing tops that boldly proclaim: MY FOLKS WENT TO FLORIDA AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS DUMB SWEATSHIRT! Or on the plastic frame around a license plate: WE'RE SPENDING OUR CHILDREN'S INHERITANCE.
These testimonies share a common assumption: We have a right to share in the blessings experienced by those over us in society. My parents must share their goodies with me. My employer must give me a raise if he makes more money himself. The rich in a society must distribute their wealth among the poor.
Kingdom economic theory doesn't necessarily change the system in dramatic ways. Nor does it significantly alter our needs. But it does defuse our greed. After all, remember what Jesus said? "Seek first the kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things shall be yours as well." That might well be the first thing we should think about when asked, "Are you satisfied?"
Alternative Application
Matthew 20:1-16. One of my childhood Sunday school songs went like this:
In country, town, or city, some people can be found
Who spend their lives in grumbling at everything around!
Oh, yes, they always grumble, no matter what you say,
For these are chronic grumblers, and they grumble night and day!
The chorus led us through the days of the week and the constant nagging of these folks' grumbling. I thought of that when I read of a medical study that concluded chronic complainers tend to live longer than people who have a mild and pleasant disposition. In other words, if you are irritable and cranky you have a better chance of living to be a hundred.
But one person, at least, questioned those findings. He says complainers do not necessarily live longer; it just seems like it to those around them!
How should we deal with the cruelties and unfairness of life? Our human nature says, "Strike back in kind! Live by the motto: Do unto others before they have a chance to do it to you!" In politics, in the church, in our homes it is all the same thing -- name-calling, mud-slinging, bitterness, and sarcasm. Others did it to us and we'll do it back.
Jesus' parable is not designed to frustrate us but rather to reset our values sight. I know a couple whose only son was killed by a drunk driver who was driving without a license and had no insurance. Friends and lawyers urged them to sue the man and his wealthy parents for all they were worth. The courts would gladly judge this travesty in their favor.
"No," they replied. "We refuse to live that way." Instead, with patient love, they slowly built a relationship with the young wastrel. Eventually they took him from prison into their home and allowed him to become another son to them in place of the one who was lost to them under this man's car.
Did he deserve such kindness? Did these people give what was fair? Certainly not. But they lived the gospel that is stronger than revenge. Grace is not putting up with something because we have no way out; rather it is choosing to stick with people and continuing to love them even when we could become angry, mean, or hurtful -- even when we could just turn our back and walk away.
Somehow that sounds a lot like God!
