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The Twenty-Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Today’s gospel parable, probably no one’s favorite, conjures up for me a long litany of life’s injustices. I think, for instance, of the health-conscious zealot who might miss a meal but never a workout, and whose daily regimen would suggest he’s in training for the Olympics. He’s the one, of course, who gets diagnosed with coronary artery disease while his beer drinking, burger eating, overweight couch potato friend gets a clean bill of health. Or I think back to school days, to the classmate who seldom studied, glanced casually over the material the night before finals, and then aced the exam, ruining the curve for the rest of the class who crammed for days and burned the midnight oil! On the more serious side is the classic case of the one who all his life long manages to drink deeply and liberally of all life’s pleasures – including the forbidden ones – and who has this marvelous photo-finish, deathbed conversion right at the end, complete with candles, holy oils, solemn anointing and final absolution. Where’s the justice? That’s the question raised by today’s parable. Where’s the justice? Most of us, I think it’s fair to say, find ourselves in sympathy with those poor laborers of the parable who bore the burden of the day’s sweltering heat, working their fingers to the bone from dawn to dusk. Our sense of justice and right order is seriously violated when those late comers, who probably whiled away their day in the shade, gossiping or snoozing, or maybe even boozing, are paid as if they, too, had worked all day long. Where’s the justice? And, you know, I think Jesus wanted us to react this way. I think he told this parable for precisely that reason -- to shake us up and offend our sensibilities. I think he told this parable to wake us up to the message we heard in today’s first reading from Isaiah – that “God’s thoughts are not our thoughts, nor are God’s ways our ways.” The parable of the eleventh hour laborers is a perfect illustration of that difficult yet essential bit of biblical wisdom. God’s ways can be described by one word, one deceptively simple word which we’re quite good at misunderstanding. The word is grace. With God, all is grace. With God, there is really no such thing as earning. Or put it this way: even earning is God’s gift. The generosity of God – the mysterious and almost scandalous generosity of God – that’s what this parable is about. There is nothing we have that is not God’s generous gift – beginning with life itself, and including everything we have: our talents, personalities, our family and friends; our job, our possessions, the clothes we wear, the food we eat, the flowers in our garden, the sun and moon and stars in the sky. And, of course, our faith, too, and the good works we do, and even our desire to do them. Everything is God’s gift. And so, while we busy ourselves with careful calculations down to the last decimal point about what we have coming to us because of all we’ve done (the Masses we’ve attended, the homilies we’ve endured, the sacrifices we’ve made, the checks we’ve written), God is having a wonderful time of doing what God does best: giving freely – almost recklessly – whenever, and wherever, and to whomever He wills. God, it seems, doesn’t pay a lot of attention to our mathematics or to our carefully calculated balance sheets. Now, I don’t know about you, but something in me likes the merit system better. It seems so much more dependable, more predictable, so much fairer. But then again, when I stop and compare the history of my failings to the power of God’s grace, maybe I’ll do better to bet on grace after all…! Father Michael G. Ryan |
