Radically Unfair
Sermon
Uplifting Christ Through Autumn
Sermons for the Fall Season
Object:
In a Walker Percy novel, a white physician is arrested for illegally selling drugs to truck drivers to help them keep awake on long hauls and then put them to sleep after they reach their destination. He is sent to a federal prison for a few months. His prison job is to drive the tractor mower at the eighteen-hole officers' golf club at the adjacent Air Force base.
After this brief prison stay, he returns to his home and his practice in a southeastern state. In the hallway of the local hospital, he is met by a 75-year-old black janitor who gives him this greeting:
"I knowed they couldn't keep you. People talking about trouble. I say, 'No way.' No way Doc going to be in trouble. Ain't no police going to hold Doc for long. People got too much respect for Doc! I say."
Well, you don't have to be southern, or African American to understand the subtleties of that brief exchange. In the novel, the physician reflects on the janitor's greeting: "Frank was having a bit of fun with me. And he knew that I knew. He was using the old forms of courtesy to say what he pleased. And what he was pleased to say was: 'So you got caught, didn't you? And you got out sooner than I would have gotten out, didn't you?' Even his pronunciation of police as 'police' was overdone and farcical, a parody of black speech, but a parody he calculated I would recognize." It was a greeting from an old man who must still do manual labor at 75 just to put food on his table but who was still holding on to his dignity. Saying face-to-face, "It's unfair."
Unfair.... What about that parable from the book of Matthew that we read today? Now that is a story which seems to lack in subtleties; portraying an occurrence that is obviously unjust; arbitrary; capricious -- downright unfair!
The kingdom of heaven is like an estate vineyard owner who went into town at the break of dawn to hire laborers to be paid the standard daily wage -- which, at the time of the Roman occupation was one denarius. One denarius would purchase the goods and services to sustain one average-sized family for one day. It would buy sufficient nourishment for the laborer and laborer's dependents (spouse, small children, maybe an elderly grandparent or aunt or uncle no longer able to work). A denarius would buy some food for the day -- the basic necessities of life. Nothing could be saved from a day's wage of a denarius, nor could anything extravagant be bought, just sufficient food to maintain physical well-being for the day.
The kingdom of God is like the drama playing out in this vineyard. It was grape harvest time -- the time was right -- the grapes held the correct amount of ripeness and sugar at the end of growing season, and they had to be picked quickly before a heavy rain could damage the fruit.
When it was this time -- the right time for harvest, the owners of vineyards would need additional workers beyond their own maintenance staff, so the owners would go very early in the morning to the marketplace by the community well where poor, unemployed day laborers would gather before sunrise in the desperate hope of being hired for the day. (It was not much different than what occurs today in countless towns and cities in our southwest -- designated meeting places for farm laborers who cry out to be hired the day; or in the pine barren towns of central and south New Jersey when the tomato or cranberry crops are ripe -- old school buses coming down a dusty lane -- needing today perhaps twelve strong backs. "You and you and you and you -- get on the bus." Or, there are the migrant workers traveling the central corridor from Ohio to Florida as crops come due, their children in tow. Little hands are also needed to pick the vegetables or fruit. Little hands -- needed to get that elusive denarius for the family. Kids in and out of various public school systems; not in any one place long enough to learn how to read. The family staying in run-down motels or seasonal farm barracks; their old pick-up truck constantly breaking down while trying to follow the harvest and hopefully, please dear God, earn a denarius for the day.)
In Palestine at the time of Jesus, the work day for a farm laborer was traditionally twelve hours, from six until six, six days a week. This is another thing that hasn't changed much. In most of what we sometimes call the third world, and that third world within our own world which includes migrant workers, it is still six to six, six days a week. And after the family dinner, paid for with the denarius, it is time to fix the truck, mend the clothes, help with homework, and tend one's own garden plot if fortunate enough to be in one place long enough.
Those who were not hired at first in the parable, those who remained in the market square -- killing time -- playing cards -- were waiting anxiously; desperate as the sun moved high in the sky. When it appeared hopeless for any chance of acquiring a denarius: any chance of acquiring food, health, wholeness -- for one's family, then what?
Okay, but for many of us (be honest!) the ending of this parable still seems unfair, doesn't it? I mean those first hired worked all day in the vineyard. Why should they receive the same pay as those who worked only a portion of the day, especially those who worked only the last hour out of the twelve? It seems very unfair. We are conditioned to this response.
(It also bothers me when professional football players are paid more for one quarter of a football game than I am paid for a year of work. On the other hand, I am paid more for one week of work than a rural farmer in India is paid for one year of backbreaking work in the fields. I guess that's not very fair, either.)
The parable assumes that the laborers all worked equally hard and the quality of the work was the same, some just worked longer. As the text said, some "bore the day's burden and the heat." The midday sun on Palestinian hillsides before the rainy season can fry both body and mind. Why aren't those who "bore the day's burden and the heat" paid more?
Discrimination as defined by the parable is a very different matter and most often today much more subtle. For example, a comment: "You know, you are one of my good friends. I never think of you as black." Implying what? That I think of you as white and therefore can now accept you because I think of you as being just like me. Or perhaps implying, "I don't think of your race at all -- or those other parts of you that are different from me." "Ain't no police going to hold Doc for long." God, as described by the parable, wills the denarius of fulfilling nourishment, which includes unity, for us all.
Those who first heard the parable from the lips of Jesus probably did a better job of hearing the Word in the words, than we often do today. They were listening closely for what this radical rabbi, Jesus, had to say about God. The vineyard was a well-known symbol at the time for the kingdom of God -- for the way God intends life to be -- for what it is like to be at home with God.
Those who first heard the parable knew the vineyard owner in the story was representing God. For them this was not a confusing story about farm work and working hours. It was about what is fair and what is not fair. What is right in the eyes of God, and what is wrong about the way we often treat each other.
Jesus had been heavily criticized for his contact with so-called "outcasts." He was welcoming, comforting, and healing in his acceptance of tax collectors, widows, lepers, single women, Samaritans, and children. He was heavily criticized. And God, in the parable, asks the critics "are you envious because I am generous? Is the inclusiveness of my love unfair? Or do you not understand the vast extent of my love and my world?"
This is an appropriate parable for us, because it is all about God's driving desire to bring everyone home. That is the kingdom of God -- everyone home with God -- and in the meantime, making sure that everyone always has at least a denarius in their hand. That's justice. "The kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out at dawn to hire laborers for his vineyard." The kingdom of heaven is where everyone always knows your name. Home is where you can always expect to be confronted and forgiven and put under no obligation. Home is where there is always a place for you at the table. Home is also where you can always count on what is being shared on the table.
"Are you envious because I am generous?" asked God through the parable.
This parable of Jesus was especially meaningful to the faith community of Matthew (Matthew is the only gospel that contains this parable) because that Christian community was under heavy verbal attack for welcoming into their fellowship a variety of Gentiles, people with no Jewish-Hebrew background. These new members were very different. In the past, they had worshiped various Greek or Phoenician or other regional deities. They carried different customs and concepts of ancestry. They had different racial connections and worship patterns. But, now they were all united by the acceptance of Jesus as the one who is transparent to God.
"But wait," said some original members of Matthew's fellowship, "do these Gentiles who entered the story at various later hours of the day, do they also get the blessing? Do they get the peace of God, all that one needs to be whole, a denarius of spirit? Can we be blessed by them?"
"Yes!" proclaimed the parable. "Does this seem unfair?" "Do you begrudge my generosity?" asked the owner of the vineyard.
The kingdom of heaven is like a vineyard whose owner is very gracious, giving the unexpected. God desires unity in the midst of sacred diversity and God wills that all receive the denarius: enough food, shelter, health, safety, respect, dignity -- a denarius -- for everyone waiting in all our marketplaces, life in all its fullness.
God asked, "Are you envious because I am generous?"
Yes. Envious and ashamed. Often in need of your forgiveness, dear God. Often in need of your forgiveness. Amen.
After this brief prison stay, he returns to his home and his practice in a southeastern state. In the hallway of the local hospital, he is met by a 75-year-old black janitor who gives him this greeting:
"I knowed they couldn't keep you. People talking about trouble. I say, 'No way.' No way Doc going to be in trouble. Ain't no police going to hold Doc for long. People got too much respect for Doc! I say."
Well, you don't have to be southern, or African American to understand the subtleties of that brief exchange. In the novel, the physician reflects on the janitor's greeting: "Frank was having a bit of fun with me. And he knew that I knew. He was using the old forms of courtesy to say what he pleased. And what he was pleased to say was: 'So you got caught, didn't you? And you got out sooner than I would have gotten out, didn't you?' Even his pronunciation of police as 'police' was overdone and farcical, a parody of black speech, but a parody he calculated I would recognize." It was a greeting from an old man who must still do manual labor at 75 just to put food on his table but who was still holding on to his dignity. Saying face-to-face, "It's unfair."
Unfair.... What about that parable from the book of Matthew that we read today? Now that is a story which seems to lack in subtleties; portraying an occurrence that is obviously unjust; arbitrary; capricious -- downright unfair!
The kingdom of heaven is like an estate vineyard owner who went into town at the break of dawn to hire laborers to be paid the standard daily wage -- which, at the time of the Roman occupation was one denarius. One denarius would purchase the goods and services to sustain one average-sized family for one day. It would buy sufficient nourishment for the laborer and laborer's dependents (spouse, small children, maybe an elderly grandparent or aunt or uncle no longer able to work). A denarius would buy some food for the day -- the basic necessities of life. Nothing could be saved from a day's wage of a denarius, nor could anything extravagant be bought, just sufficient food to maintain physical well-being for the day.
The kingdom of God is like the drama playing out in this vineyard. It was grape harvest time -- the time was right -- the grapes held the correct amount of ripeness and sugar at the end of growing season, and they had to be picked quickly before a heavy rain could damage the fruit.
When it was this time -- the right time for harvest, the owners of vineyards would need additional workers beyond their own maintenance staff, so the owners would go very early in the morning to the marketplace by the community well where poor, unemployed day laborers would gather before sunrise in the desperate hope of being hired for the day. (It was not much different than what occurs today in countless towns and cities in our southwest -- designated meeting places for farm laborers who cry out to be hired the day; or in the pine barren towns of central and south New Jersey when the tomato or cranberry crops are ripe -- old school buses coming down a dusty lane -- needing today perhaps twelve strong backs. "You and you and you and you -- get on the bus." Or, there are the migrant workers traveling the central corridor from Ohio to Florida as crops come due, their children in tow. Little hands are also needed to pick the vegetables or fruit. Little hands -- needed to get that elusive denarius for the family. Kids in and out of various public school systems; not in any one place long enough to learn how to read. The family staying in run-down motels or seasonal farm barracks; their old pick-up truck constantly breaking down while trying to follow the harvest and hopefully, please dear God, earn a denarius for the day.)
In Palestine at the time of Jesus, the work day for a farm laborer was traditionally twelve hours, from six until six, six days a week. This is another thing that hasn't changed much. In most of what we sometimes call the third world, and that third world within our own world which includes migrant workers, it is still six to six, six days a week. And after the family dinner, paid for with the denarius, it is time to fix the truck, mend the clothes, help with homework, and tend one's own garden plot if fortunate enough to be in one place long enough.
Those who were not hired at first in the parable, those who remained in the market square -- killing time -- playing cards -- were waiting anxiously; desperate as the sun moved high in the sky. When it appeared hopeless for any chance of acquiring a denarius: any chance of acquiring food, health, wholeness -- for one's family, then what?
Okay, but for many of us (be honest!) the ending of this parable still seems unfair, doesn't it? I mean those first hired worked all day in the vineyard. Why should they receive the same pay as those who worked only a portion of the day, especially those who worked only the last hour out of the twelve? It seems very unfair. We are conditioned to this response.
(It also bothers me when professional football players are paid more for one quarter of a football game than I am paid for a year of work. On the other hand, I am paid more for one week of work than a rural farmer in India is paid for one year of backbreaking work in the fields. I guess that's not very fair, either.)
The parable assumes that the laborers all worked equally hard and the quality of the work was the same, some just worked longer. As the text said, some "bore the day's burden and the heat." The midday sun on Palestinian hillsides before the rainy season can fry both body and mind. Why aren't those who "bore the day's burden and the heat" paid more?
Discrimination as defined by the parable is a very different matter and most often today much more subtle. For example, a comment: "You know, you are one of my good friends. I never think of you as black." Implying what? That I think of you as white and therefore can now accept you because I think of you as being just like me. Or perhaps implying, "I don't think of your race at all -- or those other parts of you that are different from me." "Ain't no police going to hold Doc for long." God, as described by the parable, wills the denarius of fulfilling nourishment, which includes unity, for us all.
Those who first heard the parable from the lips of Jesus probably did a better job of hearing the Word in the words, than we often do today. They were listening closely for what this radical rabbi, Jesus, had to say about God. The vineyard was a well-known symbol at the time for the kingdom of God -- for the way God intends life to be -- for what it is like to be at home with God.
Those who first heard the parable knew the vineyard owner in the story was representing God. For them this was not a confusing story about farm work and working hours. It was about what is fair and what is not fair. What is right in the eyes of God, and what is wrong about the way we often treat each other.
Jesus had been heavily criticized for his contact with so-called "outcasts." He was welcoming, comforting, and healing in his acceptance of tax collectors, widows, lepers, single women, Samaritans, and children. He was heavily criticized. And God, in the parable, asks the critics "are you envious because I am generous? Is the inclusiveness of my love unfair? Or do you not understand the vast extent of my love and my world?"
This is an appropriate parable for us, because it is all about God's driving desire to bring everyone home. That is the kingdom of God -- everyone home with God -- and in the meantime, making sure that everyone always has at least a denarius in their hand. That's justice. "The kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out at dawn to hire laborers for his vineyard." The kingdom of heaven is where everyone always knows your name. Home is where you can always expect to be confronted and forgiven and put under no obligation. Home is where there is always a place for you at the table. Home is also where you can always count on what is being shared on the table.
"Are you envious because I am generous?" asked God through the parable.
This parable of Jesus was especially meaningful to the faith community of Matthew (Matthew is the only gospel that contains this parable) because that Christian community was under heavy verbal attack for welcoming into their fellowship a variety of Gentiles, people with no Jewish-Hebrew background. These new members were very different. In the past, they had worshiped various Greek or Phoenician or other regional deities. They carried different customs and concepts of ancestry. They had different racial connections and worship patterns. But, now they were all united by the acceptance of Jesus as the one who is transparent to God.
"But wait," said some original members of Matthew's fellowship, "do these Gentiles who entered the story at various later hours of the day, do they also get the blessing? Do they get the peace of God, all that one needs to be whole, a denarius of spirit? Can we be blessed by them?"
"Yes!" proclaimed the parable. "Does this seem unfair?" "Do you begrudge my generosity?" asked the owner of the vineyard.
The kingdom of heaven is like a vineyard whose owner is very gracious, giving the unexpected. God desires unity in the midst of sacred diversity and God wills that all receive the denarius: enough food, shelter, health, safety, respect, dignity -- a denarius -- for everyone waiting in all our marketplaces, life in all its fullness.
God asked, "Are you envious because I am generous?"
Yes. Envious and ashamed. Often in need of your forgiveness, dear God. Often in need of your forgiveness. Amen.
