Getting a Job in Jesus’s Economy

Text: Matthew 20:1-16

Two words come to mind when reading that gospel: not fair. Jesus’s parable, spoken to the disciples doesn’t seem fair, the landowner doesn’t seem to be treating these laborers fairly, and the fact that we know that Jesus is talking about our relationship with God, well, that seems to make it worse. How fair is it that somebody working out in the sun all day would receive the same wage as someone that was working for an hour? It just isn’t.

The landowner goes into the marketplace and chooses some day laborers and agrees to give a daily wage for a day’s work. The laborers agree and go inside. Then the landowner goes out again at 9:00, noon, and 3:00, each time finding laborers willing to work, ushering them into the vineyard with the promise that they would receive “what was right” (a promise of justice). Lastly, an hour before the end of the workday, the landowner goes out again and finds more laborers standing around. He asks them “Why are you standing here idle all day?” To which they reply “Because no one has hired us.” We don’t know what is going on with these people, what took them so long to get there, but we are already upset, worrying about those that have been working in that vineyard all day. And when Jesus flips around the line to receive wages, that the last in get to be first out and they are getting the same wage as everyone else¸ it makes us want to scream, doesn’t it? It just doesn’t seem fair.

And even though we’re willing to admit that some people have it harder, that some people have life stacked up against them, it doesn’t preclude the landowner from being responsible. A flat tire on the way to work is an excuse. Childcare, foster care, or caring for one’s elderly parent doesn’t get us very much in the sympathy department—you still have to show up to work on time. Life has to be separate from work. Any sympathy we might have for those laborers, seemingly showing up at the last minute, is nothing compared with our sense of unfairness in this passage.

There are so many ways in which we look around at all of those around us and say “that’s not fair”. We like to compare ourselves, where we’re at, with others, don’t we? We look at the stuff in our neighbor’s yard and we say, “well, maybe I should get a sail boat. I don’t know how to sail…but I’ve always wanted to learn!” Or we see fairness as all paying the same. An early episode of Friends highlighted the problems people from different situations have in balancing fairness. The group goes to a nice restaurant and the three with steady, high-earning jobs expect the group to split the bill into six pieces equally. To many this is fair. When it is highlighted to those three that it isn’t fair, that the other three didn’t spend as much, each pays for his or her own—another variation of fair. But for those three, even going to that expensive restaurant wasn’t fair—they couldn’t afford a full meal—in gospel terms—a day’s bread.

And our gospel doesn’t just deal with fairness of wage, but fairness of interaction: as each set of laborers receives a different promise, with different respect. Isn’t that part of our irritation, part of what makes this gospel seem unfair? Don’t we think that the hardest working, the most talented, and strongest among us deserve the highest reward? Don’t we reward success and punish laziness? How could the same wage be fair?

Our state and federal governments have often tried to find ways to make things more fair, progressive taxation, affirmative action, Medicare, Medicaid to name a few. But our understanding of fairness seems less interested in theoreticals and strangers than in the people we know. We obsess about what our neighbor has or what our neighbor receives—that we forget to notice who they are and what is really going on with them.

Jesus’s economic justice is unfair.

In the setup for our gospel, the preceding passage was the one about the young rich man who is told to give up his possessions (he doesn’t). Then Jesus teaches the disciples about wealth using the example of the camel through the eye of the needle. Lastly, Peter asks—‘we’ve done all that, so what do we get?’ Jesus responds by telling them that they’ve got a special place, but don’t forget: “many who are first will be last, and the last will be first.”

For Jesus, it isn’t fairness—it’s justice. It’s breaking free of egocentrism: “What do I get?” and revel in the glory of God. That Kingdom work on Earth will raise up every valley and make every hill low. This isn’t an environmental or agricultural suggestion—it is an economic reality! The landowner has agreed to hand out a usual day’s wage to anyone who works in the vineyard—an agreement that the eager beavers accept with no reservation. They only get upset when it occurs to them that someone else will get the same: someone that they judge as inferior; someone they judge as lesser and undeserving of such mercy. What do I get? A daily wage—enough to get me through today. Tomorrow is another day and these same laborers will be out in the marketplace again, looking for work, looking for a generous landowner that will overlook today’s tantrum or performance, negotiating another contract for a day’s wage.

According to Jesus’s Economy, we get the daily opportunity to make a daily wage from a generous landowner. We get the chance every day, regardless of where we come from, to turn to God with the hope of mercy and justice.

Talking about justice and the economy reminds me of a place that certainly doesn’t represent Jesus’s Economy: Mississippi. We know that Mississippi has one of the worst economies in the country, but they have a regressive tax structure, which means the poor pay a higher percentage of their wages in state taxes than the wealthy: in fact, they pay nearly three times as much. For us, Jesus’s Economy is one of justice, not fairness. It is one in which circumstances and ability do not keep a person from receiving the uncompromised love of God. It is one in which we are given the opportunity to share in this ministry with God, showing courageous, unbridled love to all.

It also reinforces the position Jesus takes in Matthew 19:30 and in the Beatitudes in which the last are first: those last picked for kickball or for a debate team; those ignored because they live in the wrong place and do the wrong things; those driven to the edge of our consciousness must be placed in the center of it. Making the last first (and our rightful place at the end of the line) is to give them the preferential position, closest to God’s heart; loving the poor and the marginalized with incredible love.

What is so hard for most of us to get is that the Kingdom of God is not a meritocracy. Praying harder or better doesn’t get you a better parking spot in heaven any more than it does at the mall. The true gift is working in the kingdom, getting the chance to share in God’s mercy by showing it. By leveling the playingfield for others. By taking the same wage that God freely gives to others. This is the reward for hardvwork, this is the opportunity in Jesus’s Economy. When we adopt it, we aren’t going to make a lot of money, but we are assured of one thing: Jesus loves us. That’s the binding contract. That’s the payment we receive, regardless of whether we were picked first or last for kickball, regardless of the mistakes we’ve made (and will make again). And to all who have been pushed to the margins, forgotten or exploited by our secular economy, overcome by their physical and environmental conditions, God in Jesus says “You are loved. Come on in. These people will gladly make room for you in the treasured seat next to me.”