25th Sunday in Ordinary Time (A)
Readings: Isaiah 55: 6-9; Psalm 144 (145): 2-3, 8-9, 17-18; Philippians 1: 20-24, 27; Matthew 20: 1-16
Picture: By Marco J Haenssgen on Unsplash
What is it like to receive a queue number? Some of us may remember a time when queue numbers were always sequential. Those who arrived earlier received a smaller number, and were called first. First come, first served. But these days things are not always so simple. Take a public hospital or polyclinic, for example. Rather than first come, first served, the queues at such places often follow a different, more complex, logic. The number I’m assigned, and exactly when it’s called, may depend on various factors, including whether or not I’ve made an appointment, the type and severity of my ailment, the procedure I’m scheduled to undergo, the doctor I’m consulting, and so on. Which makes it highly possible that some of those who arrive later than me, will be served before me. Is it reasonable for me to get angry and to kick up a fuss when this happens? Only if I stubbornly choose to cling to the idea that those who come first must be served first. Only if I refuse to accept that the queue at the clinic follows a different logic.
Accepting a logic other than first come, first served. Isn’t this something like what our scriptures are inviting us to do today? To see this, it’s helpful to note that the parable Jesus tells in the gospel is bracketed by two similar statements. Today’s reading begins from verse 1 of chapter 20. The opening bracket is found in the verse immediately before that, in verse 30 of chapter 19, where Jesus says, Many who are first will be last, and the last, first. And the closing bracket is found at the end of our reading, where he says, Thus the last will be first, and the first last. The shocking reversal of first and last. This is what the parable is meant to illustrate. For by choosing to pay all the workers exactly the same wage, even though some arrived earlier, and did more work, the landowner effectively treats the last as though they were first. Why does he do this? Before we answer this question, it’s important to note that one denarius was the standard daily wage at the time. So, in the parable, no one is being shortchanged. Everyone receives the daily wage. It’s just that some receive it for doing less. Again, the question is why?.
And the likely answer is that God’s kingdom operates according to a logic different from that of the world. What is this logic? It’s the same one mentioned in the collect, the prayer we offered at the start of Mass. Where we were reminded that all the commands of (God’s) sacred Law are founded on love… The generosity and compassion born of love. This is what moves the landowner not only to pay the latecomers more than what is just, but also to keep tirelessly going out and recruiting workers throughout the day. Even till the eleventh hour. Not just because the vineyard requires labourers, but also because the unemployed need work. Why have you been standing here idle all day? Can our hearts not hear and be moved by the tender care and concern expressed in the landowner’s poignant query?
And yet, if he is truly so generous and compassionate, then why, we may ask, doesn’t the landowner pay the first-comers more than the agreed wage? Why stick to one denarius? After all, isn’t this what distinguishes love from justice? That whereas justice seeks only what is enough, it’s in the nature of love to always go beyond. To overflow. To overwhelm. So why not more than one denarius? The parable itself doesn’t provide an answer. But it may be helpful for us to again consider its wider biblical context. In addition to being bracketed by the Lord’s statements about the reversal of first and last, the parable is also framed by two other important passages. Before Jesus tells the parable, he encounters a rich young man, who wants to know what he needs to do to gain eternal life (19:16-30). And later, in the passage immediately following today’s reading (20:17-19), Jesus will tell his disciples for the third time that they are on their way to Jerusalem, where the Lord will be handed over to the religious and civil authorities, and be condemned, tortured, and crucified, before being raised on the third day.
So why not more than one denarius? Could it be because, much as this may seem a paltry sum, it points to nothing less than the precious gift of eternal life, obtained for us at the cost of the life of Christ. Is there more that could be given us beyond what has already been given? Is there more that could be paid to us than what has already been paid? And could it be that it’s only by carefully and continually pondering the immensity of God's love for us in Christ, that we can then receive the grace to do what the other readings call us to do. To seek the Lord while he is still to be found… To (a)void anything in (our) daily lives that would be unworthy of the gospel of Christ… To strive to do what the rich young man was not yet ready to do. To let go of anything that might prevent us from accepting and living by the logic of Christ, the logic of love, the logic of the Cross.
Coincidentally (or not), in recent days, wages have featured very prominently in our local news. On the one hand, the sudden closure of an international fitness chain has underscored how precarious were the livelihoods of its staff, including many foreigners. On the other hand, the parliamentary debate on ministerial salaries has again highlighted the cost of attracting suitable talent to political leadership. If nothing else, doesn't news such as this remind us what the queue looks like? Who is first, and who last? And how different is the world’s logic from that of God’s kingdom? Sisters and brothers, in our own lives, which logic do we follow more closely, today and everyday?
