It’s Just Not Fair!
Matthew 20:1-16
When I was in college in middle of the last century, I had a strong
desire to change my major from physics to English. Alas, it was
not to be. I did manage to focus my electives in that field and
developed a love for literature. Thus, when I was introduced to
Robert Alter in seminary, I found a source of revitalizing the way in
which I read the scriptures. Alter reveals the literary art found
in biblical writing and points to the richness with which it infuses
the text with deep meaning. The Gospel of Matthew is a wonderful
example of that art.
We are in the midst of a powerful and essential section of that Gospel
where literary technique elevates the stories to a level of meaning
otherwise difficult to attain.
Beginning with the forgiveness lessons of the last two weeks,
incorporating the story of the rich young ruler who could not bring
himself to part with his riches (that we omit in our present reading
sequence), through today’s lesson that reflects on human envy, and in
upcoming stories of the disciples quarreling over who should be first,
Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, and finally the other vineyard
story – the one about the tenants who kill those sent by the owner to
collect the rent due him, including his son, we have an image of God’s
redemptive action to save us from the death forces that hold us in
their grip, to redeem us by dying at our hands to free us from the
anger, the jealousy, the apathy, the darkness that pervades our world.
The vineyard stories form bookends, if you will, of this foretelling of
Jesus’ rejection and death as the scapegoat. And they are
underlined by the repeated motif that the first shall be last and the
last, first – the affirming notion that the Gentile is as beloved of
God as is the Jew; that we who come lately shall receive, through
grace, the benefit of the Son who was with God from the beginning.
The vineyard is an image found in Hebraic literature so infused with meaning that it becomes an icon for the human condition.
In Genesis, after the flood recedes, Noah and his family come out of
the ark onto dry ground. God forms a new covenant with the earth
and all that dwells in it and Noah plants a vineyard. The
consequences of that play out as Noah is discovered in a drunken stupor
by his son Ham. Two other sons, Shem and Japheth, cover Noah and
when he awakes and Ham is condemned, cast out of the family. This
vignette of family dynamics and the placing of blame for family
problems on one of its members in order to maintain peace and stability
for the larger group depicts a central theme in human relationships.
Stories told by the prophets, especially Isaiah and Jeremiah, reinforce
the image of Israel as vineyard and God as keeper of that
vineyard. The Song of Solomon likewise draws heavily on that
imagery. But it is the story of Naboth’s vineyard that attains
the fullest sense in which the power of greed and lust for what another
possesses – what Rene Girard calls the mimetic desire – becomes a
destructive force. Ahab and Jezebel were king and queen of
Samaria; their palace was in Jezreel. Naboth owned a small
vineyard that abutted the palace grounds. Although they had more
than enough, Ahab began to wish he could add Naboth’s vineyard to his
holdings. Naboth refused to sell because the small piece of land
represented his ancestral inheritance – the connection to his
history. Ahab became so upset that he literally took to his
bed. Jezebel, after berating Ahab for his failure to exercise
royal power, hatched a plot that culminated in Naboth’s death at the
hands of the people of the city on a false accusation of having cursed
God and the king.
Envy, the desire for what another has beyond real necessity, paired
with unforgiveness forms a chain that binds the world to a culture of
death.
In the oldest story of human failure, the serpent in the garden tempts
Adam and Eve by highlighting, not the abundance of what God has given,
but the small limitation – the one tree among many from which they were
not to eat. And God’s reason, the serpent suggests, is jealousy –
if Adam and Eve were to eat of the fruit of that forbidden tree they
would become like God.
Desire to have what belongs to another drives the history of conflict –
conflicts over land, over water, over food, over oil, over the toy that
the other child is playing with! And when that envious desire is
coupled with resentment, anger, and revenge for real or imagined hurts,
a flame is lit which all the reason and good intentions we could ever
hope to muster are inadequate to extinguish.
In today’s’ parable, we hear a simple story. Each person hired
agrees to work for a fair wage – a day’s pay or whatever is
right. In the world of maximizing profits and minimizing costs,
this would, of course, mean paying as little as possible - the day’s
wage to those who worked all day, a fraction thereof to the others
according to the length of time worked.
But this owner is extravagant! Not only does he disregard the
chance to maximize his profit, he purposely pays each worker in such a
way that the others are aware of what he is doing. They are
offered an opportunity to rejoice in the good fortune of their fellow
laborers. Yet their response is anything but joy for his
generosity. Those who labored all day have come to want more than
that to which they had agreed and take the owner’s generosity as an
affront to their rightful reward.
Would that the story ended here, we could take it as a gentle
admonition to not focus so much on what others have. But when we
see how Matthew has positioned the sequence of stories, we see the
clear implication that the envious attitude of today's reading develops into the murderous
attitude of the second vineyard parable.
Unforgiveness that begets violence. Envy that begets
murder. How is the cycle broken? Where does the madness
end?
"Take, eat: This is my Body, which is given for you. Do this for the remembrance of me."
"Drink this, all of you: This is my Blood of the new
Covenant, which is shed for you and for many for the forgiveness of
sins. Whenever you drink it, do this for the remembrance of me."
“Lord, give us this day our daily bread…” – the denari that supplies our need.
“Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive…” -
Help us to be forgiving Lord, help us to rejoice in the good fortune of
others, help to rejoice in the gifts you have given us.
Even as we ask for gifts from God, we are called to embody
that giving spirit in our own lives. If we are to escape the pull
of envy, the bonds of unforgiveness – “…lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil…” - we must respond to God’s love by loving, by sharing, by giving.
There is an ancient rabbinical story that reflects the power of breaking the cycle of envy and enmity.
Long ago in Israel there lived a farmer who had two sons, Shimon and
Isaac. The brothers helped their father to farm the land.
When the father had grown old, he called his sons, to him. "You
have grown to be good men and I have taught you how to be good
farmers," he told them. "Soon I will die. I am dividing my
land and you shall each receive half. Farm it as you have seen me
farm it, and it will support you and your families. Take care
also of one another."
Not long after, the father died and Shimon and Isaac divided their
father's land as he had instructed. Each built a house on his
parcel of land. In time, Shimon married Rachel and they were
blessed with three healthy children. Isaac never married and
lived alone in the house he built. The two brothers remained best
friends.
One year, very little rain fell. A drought gripped the land and
the wheat crop was very poor. After the harvest, there was only a
small amount of wheat on the threshing floors of either brother.
One night Shimon could not sleep. "What's bothering you?" asked Rachel.
"I cannot stop thinking about Isaac. He lives all alone. I
have you and we have three wonderful children. They will take
care of us when we grow old. But Isaac has no one to comfort him
now and no one to care for him when he grows old. Yet each of us
has the same amount of land and of wheat. It doesn't seem fair."
"What will you do about it?" asked Rachel, though she knew what her
husband would do. Shimon thought for some time. Finally, he
turned to her. "I know what to do," answered Shimon. "I
will take some of my wheat to my brother."
It was the night of the new moon and very dark outside. It was
nearly midnight when Shimon dressed, harnessed his sleepy donkey, and
piled his back high with sheaves of wheat. "We have something
important to do," he whispered to the donkey. "I'm sorry to
disturb your sleep, but this is important." Shimon led the donkey
across his field, across his brother's field, to his brother's
threshing floor. There he unloaded the wheat, and quietly
returned home. He crawled back into bed, feeling much better, and
slept soundly the rest of the night.
The same night, Isaac could not sleep either. He was thinking
about Shimon. "My brother has a wife and three children to
feed. I have only myself. Yet we both have the same amount
of land and of wheat. That doesn't seem fair, especially when we
are suffering a drought, and wheat is scarce."
Isaac got out of bed and loaded his donkey with wheat from his
threshing floor. He led the donkey across his field, across his
brother's field, and to Shimon's threshing floor. There he
unloaded his load of wheat, returned home, and slept well.
The next morning, Shimon went to examine his threshing floor. He
rubbed his eyes. "What? How can this be?" he asked in
astonishment. "There is as much wheat here today as
yesterday. I didn't take enough to my brother. I'll have to
bring him more tonight."
That same morning Isaac, went to his threshing floor and rubbed his
eyes in disbelief. "This is extremely peculiar," he muttered to
himself. "I know I brought wheat to Shimon last night, but it
seems there is as much here this morning. I suppose I did not
take enough. Ah, well, I'll take more tonight to make things
right."
Late that night the two brothers again arose from their beds, dressed,
and loaded their donkeys with wheat. It was dark, with barely a
sliver of a moon in the sky, and they did not see each other crossing
the field. The next morning, each was amazed to see that he had
as much wheat on his threshing floor as the day before. This
continued nightly for almost two weeks, the brothers somehow managing
to miss each other on their treks.
But on the night of the full moon Shimon and Isaac started out at the
same time. The sky was clear, the moon cast a bright, beautiful
light on the fields – and the brothers met where their farms
joined. Seeing one another leading a donkey loaded with sheaves
of wheat, they simultaneously realized what had been happening.
Though there was no cloud in the sky, a gentle rain began to
fall. It was God weeping for joy because two of his children had
gotten the point. Two of his children had come to realize that
generosity is the deepest characteristic of the holy and because we are
made in God's image, our being generous is the essence of our joy.
Life is not fair, thanks be to God! It's not fair because it's rooted in God’s love, grace, and mercy.
Amen.
The Rev. John Dryden Burton
Eureka Springs, Arkansas
September 21, 2008