Other Available Sermons
June 1, 2008
June 22, 2008
July 20, 2008
August 24, 2008
August 31, 2008
Jonah 3:10—4:11;
Psalm 145:1–8
Philippians 1:21–30;
St. Matthew 20:1–16
7But when dawn came up the next day, God appointed a worm that attacked the bush, so that it withered.
And this is God's doing. 29For he has graciously granted you the privilege not only of believing in Christ, but of suffering for him as well — 30since you are having the same struggle that you saw I had and now hear that I still have.
16So the last will be first, and the first will be last."
Have you ever noticed when you think something’s “not fare!” there’s usually someone else who thinks it is? Even if, as in the case of Jonah, that someone else is God. Fairness or unfairness generally involves at least two views: either I feel you took advantage of me, or you feel I took advantage of you.
In today’s reading, Jonah seems to feel it’s unfair that God changed “his” mind. As a result of Jonah’s preaching of God's judgment, the people of Nineveh turned from their evil ways, and God relented from punishing them. Jonah had apparently wanted God to punish the Ninevites, and felt it was unfair that God didn’t. Thus, from Jonah's religious point of view, God is unfair.
In today’s Gospel, the laborers who started work at daybreak also feel that the master is unfare. It’s not fare that those who work one hour get paid the same as those who work the whole day. They agreed to “the usual daily wage;” but generally only to those who work a whole day, and not less get paid a “daily wage.” That’s the whole point of a “daily wage.” It’s for a whole day’s work, and not for half or three quarters, and certainly not for just one hour. There’d be no point in having an hourly or daily wage if bosses handed out the same pay to everyone—whether they worked a half day or whole.
As an undergraduate, I spent five summers working at the Kaiser Firtex mill in St. Helens. Back then, it was axiomatic that students who came home from college for the summer worked at the Firtex for no more than a summer or two, and then found work at the paper mill where the union was stronger and the wages higher. That’s what my brothers did. They moved on and up. But, summer in and summer out, I went back to Kaiser—even after half my first summer was spent in a hospital after a mill accident nearly killed me.
Still, I went back to Kaiser the next year, and three more summers after that. As a result, I got to know the mill pretty well, even though as a summer worker I never advanced beyond the entry level of “laborer.” Other laborers who stayed and worked year round advanced from laborer to painter, or hyster driver, or machinist, or quality control, or line operator.
The mill employed two classes of people: management and union. The bosses were management; and the rest of us were "in the union," with laborers at the bottom rung. The mill operated three 8-hour shifts round the clock: "days" (8:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m.), "swing" (4:00 to midnight), and "graveyard" (midnight to 8:00 a.m.). We worked in a continual rotation: day shift one week, followed by swing the next week, and then graveyard for another week before going back to days.
Sometimes we worked “overtime,” and were paid “time and a half” for every hour we worked beyond a standard 8-hour shift. Students like myself generally liked overtime. But “lifers” who worked at the mill year round, often did not. Lifers generally felt that a single 8 hour shift was enough for one day; but, of course, they all made more money per hour than basic laborers. The problem came when a boss asked a laborer to work overtime in a position that was “above laborer.” In other words, sometimes management would recruit laborers to work as a painter or a hyster driver time at laborer’s wages when, technically, only a union painter or hyster driver could work those jobs. Then the proverbial feces would hit the fan, the shop steward would throw a fit and refuse to allow the arrangement, the bosses would go into a rage, the mill would glow with the blue haze of conflict, lifers would cuss laborers, and vice-sersa. Sometimes, the conflict couldn't be resolved to the satisfaction of both management and union. Then overtime got canceled. I recall a dispute in which emotions spilled over and a worker literally threw a pipe wrench into the whirring saws of the head rig. That act of destructive defiance brought the entire mill to a cacophonous halt. You haven’t lived until you’ve heard steel saws biting and tearing at a two-foot long steel wrench. Saws squeal, blue sparks shoot like Roman candles, workers run for cover, bosses see red and utter curses like sparks springing from hot metal.
That’s the scene Jesus paints: a labor dispute, blue sparks, jealous rage, and hot words. It’s not fare to pay part-timers full-time wages. It’s not fare that people who work all day get paid the same as those who work one hour! Throw a monkey wrench! Stop traffic! Shut the place down! It’s a labor dispute pure and simple: labor verses management. Only this time, it's not about the company trying to get away with paying less, but more.
The problem isn’t that somebody got less than they were promised: it’s that everybody got the same. As though time doesn’t matter, as though management has unlimited resources, and endless money. Can you imagine such a situation? Jesus can and, as a matter of fact, according to Jesus, even though the world seldom operates this way, God does. God treats everybody the same no matter when they arrive or how long they work. God is unfair.
Everybody gets a full day’s wages. Not just those who show up on time, or even to those who work hardest, but especially and initially those who come last and work least: they are first, and they are equal on account of God’s abiding generosity. The crucified Christ is God’s great unfairness—this act of grotesque unfairness conveys unmerited favor to all. With this tale of gross unfairness Jesus means to inform us, to form us according to the generous mind of God. The point of life isn’t to get ahead: it’s to get the same. The Gospel is unfair—the late get the same as the early; the bad get the same as the good. Imagine Osama Bin Laden and Mother Theresa as roommates in heaven and you get the point—or maybe Osama and you. Imagine how he might complain—and what about you?