Text: Matthew 20:1-16                                                                                    18^th Sunday after Pentecost

A Christian Work Ethic

            In the name of him who calls us to work in his vineyard, dear friends in Christ:

            “An honest day’s work for an honest day’s wages”: that’s the foundational principle of the great American work ethic that all of us share.  A person ought to be paid what he’s worth, no more, no less. If someone (anyone) buckles down, acquires special abilities or skills, works hard and long, and saves his earnings and invests them wisely, he’s entitled to enjoy the fruit of his labors. We admire such honest, hardworking people – and it isn’t because they have a lot of money; we admire good workers even if their jobs don’t pay a great deal.  On the other hand, if someone slacks off, wastes opportunities to develop his potential, avoids real work, and squanders away his time and what few earnings he accumulates on frivolous things, well, then he deserves what little he ends up with.  It’s only fair.  And we tend to think less of such people – not because they don’t have a lot, but because they don’t have a solid work ethic.  Even if such a person were to become rich, say by inheriting a fortune, or winning the lottery, or by landing a great-paying job for which they are not qualified only because their rich uncle owns the company – well, you still wouldn’t have much respect for him or her.  They didn’t earn it.  In fact, you might even be a little resentful because you feel that not only didn’t they earn what they’ve got, they don’t deserve it either.  Our American work ethic tells us it’s just plain wrong for people to get more than their work is worth.

            And then along comes Jesus in this morning’s Gospel lesson with a story that seems to run counter to our understanding of right and wrong with respect to equity in work and wages.  In this parable, Jesus tells about the divine pay scale on which everyone gets paid the same amount no matter how long or how hard he works. And it just doesn’t seem fair. So, what’s the deal here?

            Well, it will be helpful to consider the context in which Jesus tells this unusual story.  A young rich man has just come to Jesus and asked what it is he must do to earn eternal life.  It’s a valid question – one based on the traditional work ethic that we all adhere to.  The man figures because the goal is worth a lot (it’s eternal life in heaven, after all), therefore the amount of work he’s required to do must be immense.  He’s expecting to hear Jesus say that he has to perform many great and difficult tasks. Instead Jesus tells him that all he has to do is obey the commandments of God.  “It can’t be that easy,” he thinks to himself, “unless maybe there are some commands I don’t know about.”  “Which commands?” he asks.  “You know,” says Jesus, “don’t murder, don’t steal, don’t tell lies about people, honor your parents, and love your neighbor as yourself.”  “No,” thinks the man.  “Surely there’s something more.  That’s much too little for so great a reward.”  He says to Jesus, “I’ve kept all those commands for as long as I’ve lived.  What do I still lack?”

            Now, understanding the nature of sin as we do – that we are all completely corrupt and incapable of keeping the law of God – his question seems absurd.  But to be fair, this man only believed what most of the religious authorities of his day were teaching.  He thought that since he hadn’t physically beaten anyone to death, or burglarized anyone’s house, and because he followed the various sacrificial and ceremonial laws, he must be obeying all the commands of God.  It really isn’t that difficult to obey the letter of the laws; but Jesus reveals that the laws are so much more than the letter. The spirit behind them all is the law of love, which is an impossible goal to fallen people to achieve.  Jesus wanted to show the man that he wasn’t as perfect as he thought he was, so he said, “I tell you what:  You go sell everything you’ve got, give the money to the poor, and come follow me, and you’ll have all kinds of treasures in heaven.” Well, the man had worked very hard to become rich.  And he thought to himself, “Give it all up?  All my property and money?  And for whom?  A bunch of lazy, undeserving people? No way!  I could never give any of my things to them.”  He had asked for a great task to perform to be worthy of eternal life – and Jesus gave him one he couldn’t do.  We’re told that he went away very sad because he was unwilling to part with his great wealth. Which, if he thought about it very long, should have helped him see that he really didn’t love his neighbor as himself.  And if he hadn’t kept that command ... maybe there were others.  What Jesus did for this man was to set him on the path of self-examination that could lead to understanding how sinful he really was  – and hopefully, the recognition that what he needed to receive eternal life was not something else to do, but rather a Savior from sin.

            But the disciples have been listening to this exchange, and their ears really perk up when Jesus says something about treasures in heaven to be received by those who sacrifice a lot to follow him.  With cold calculation their minds fix on the thought of their own personal rewards.  “Treasure, you say?  Now we’re talking!  Forget this rich guy, we want to hear more about what we’re going to get.”  It’s Peter who speaks up, “Say, Lord, we’ve left everything to follow you. Tell us more about this treasure there will be for us in heaven.”  Behind the question is the good old work ethic: “Since we’re doing the most, it’s only fair that we should be getting the most.”

            Jesus assured them that when he returned in glory, there would indeed be great honor and reward for those who follow him.  You can’t begin to imagine what wonders await you in the next life.  But, at the same time, Jesus warned them that things don’t work like you expect.  A Christian work ethic is not based on human ideas of what’s fair with regard to work and payment.

            It’s at this point that Jesus tells the parable of the workers in the vineyard.  What seems at first to be a great injustice is intended to demonstrate the error in the way the disciples are thinking.  They expect that there should be a direct correlation between the amount of work done and the reward that comes at the end.  “The more I give up now for the kingdom of God; the longer, harder, and more diligently I work, the greater should be the pay off.  That only makes sense.”  But as it turns out, those who come in at the last, who follow Christ for only ten minutes (or ten seconds!) will be given the full reward – same as those who worked all day.  Obviously they didn’t earn it.  They get it only because the owner is a very gracious and generous guy.  Or to say it another way:  what they receive is by grace alone.

            The mistake made by those who are hired first is assuming that they are entitled to more because they have done more.  After all, they think, “we’ve borne the heat and burden of the day.  We are the ones who are carrying this whole operation.”  It’s precisely the same mistake made by the rich man who wanted to know how he could earn eternal life.  The answer is:  You can’t. The only way you’re going to get it is to receive it as a gift.  If the amount of work you did had anything to do with receiving the reward, no one would ever get it.  Those hired first receive what they get just like those hired last:  by grace alone.

            The whole thing comes into clear focus when we look again at the parable, and listen to what the owner tells the second group of hired workers.  When he sends them into the vineyard, he tells them, “Whatever is right I will give you.”  The word there translated as “right” can mean “just” or “fair”; but it is the same word we also translate as “righteous”.  That’s the key.  We hear the word and automatically think, “He’s going to pay them what’s fair:  an appropriate fraction of the wage he promised to the first group.”  But that’s not what the Owner is thinking.  He is going to give them not what’s fair, but what’s “righteous”.  And the only thing in this fallen world he can give which is truly righteous is the life of Lord Jesus Christ.  Now, there’s a heavenly treasure.

            Some of you have been Christians all your lives. You’ve long supported the work of the kingdom by your prayers, your gifts, your time, and the special abilities God has given you.  The danger our Lord Jesus warns us against in this parable is the sin of thinking that the sacrifices you’ve made for the kingdom are in any way related to the great reward he gives you.  Every day he gives to each of us the same thing:  the forgiveness of sin, the righteousness of Christ, and everlasting life. None of us deserves it And when we start thinking, “it’s not fair that God should give to that fellow who’s done so little the same thing he’s giving me”, we only show that like that rich young man we don’t recognize our own sinfulness, nor do we understand or appreciate the amazing grace of God.  Trust me on this one:  you don’t want God to give you what’s fair.  Instead, you should thank him that he doesn’t.

            But we who correctly understand this parable are exposed to another danger.  What if those hired at first had known what was going to happen at quitting time? Why would you wait at the gate of the vineyard at six o’clock in the morning to be the first one hired, when you could sleep in and go to the market and get hired at nine?  Or noon?  Or lounge around all day, slip in at the last hour, and still get the same pay everyone else got?  Sadly, many people who really should know better try to play this game of spiritual “chicken” – waiting until the last possible moment to answer the call to “go and work in the vineyard”.  Sadder still, is the fact that many of them “win” this insane game, and never go at all. They fail to “seek the Lord while he may be found,” or “call on him while he is near.”  When the sun sets on their lives, they won’t be remembered for how clever they were; but rather for what a foolish waste they made of their lives.

            But if you’re here today it’s because the Owner of the vineyard already hired you.  In fact, you’re one of those hired at the eleventh hour – that’s clear from the parable.  When Jesus speaks of those hired earlier in the day, he always uses the past tense: “The landowner said to them”; but when speaking of those hired at the last hour Jesus uses the present tense:  “The landowner says to them, “you also go work in my vineyard.”  He uses the present tense because he’s talking to you. And he has a real sense of urgency – why else would the Owner keep looking for more and more workers even up until the last minute.  And if you know anything about harvesting grapes, you know that when they come on, they have to be harvested now: every day – every hour – counts.  There is work for you to do in the vineyard, and plenty of it.  Like we just sang, “The souls of men are dying.” 

But knowing, as we do, that everyone receives the same “wages”, another danger we face is the sin of thinking, “Okay, I’m here in the vineyard; but why knock myself out?  Why should I break my back doing the work when so many others are doing so much less – or nothing at all?”  This sort of evil thinking manifests itself in many different ways.  Take, for example, the “fair share” mentality, that says, “I’ll do what I think is my part, but not a bit more.”  When we think this way, we spend less time looking at the task at hand than we do looking over our shoulders to gage how hard everyone else is working.  We wouldn’t want to put out more than is required to keep up appearances.  It shows up too when it comes time to select people to perform certain leadership roles in the church.  The question too often is not, “Who would do a really good job in this position?” but instead, simply “Whose turn is it to do it?” 

Then there’s the “retirement” mentality.  This is the one who says, “I’ve already done my fair share, now it’s time for someone younger to take the burden.”  I have to wonder how many productive years of work have been totally wasted by such arbitrary, self-determined limits.  What do you suppose would have happened if the overseer of the vineyard had come across a few of those hands who had been hired first, who had taken it upon themselves to knock off in the mid afternoon because “they’d already done more than their share”?  And don’t get me wrong:  I’m not suggesting that we need to burn ourselves out by volunteering to single-handedly do everything that needs to be done.  What I’m saying is that we should never set our own work quota based on what we perceive to be the equitable standard or the number of years until retirement.  As long as we have life and strength, there is work for us to do in the Lord’s vineyard.

            There are other more subtle ways that people sometimes rationalize killing time in the vineyard.  One is what I call the “special gift” alibi.  This is the one that says, “Here’s my God-given talent. It’s what I do best.  If I can’t use it in God’s service, then forget it. There’s no work for me here.” Closely related is the “no talent” alibi.  “I’m just not very good at that.  You should find someone else who is more suited.”  Never mind that many skills can be learned and developed – but of course, that would destroy the excuse, wouldn’t it?  But all the while, all kinds of jobs go undone, and many opportunities are lost, because hands that could do the work are unwilling.

            The common denominator in these ways of thinking is, once again, a failure to understand and appreciate the grace of God, and the great gift he has given us in Jesus Christ.  Because if we had only a vague comprehension of infinite value of what God freely gives us in Christ every day, not to mention what glories he will one day shower upon us, thankfulness alone would impel us to devote every moment to his service.  But the truth is that we have more than thankfulness to motivate us.  When he invited us into his vineyard, he filled us with his own Holy Spirit to work in us the desire to do his will.  Our Lord is so gracious that not only does he reach into the lost world to save sinners, he actually makes us his willing partners in helping to serve and save others.

            St. Paul understood that.  In today’s Epistle we hear him anticipating his upcoming martyrdom. He’s soon to go to trial, and believes that this might be the end.  Paul has worked hard in the vineyard.  He’s done his “fair share” a hundred times over.  He’s done plenty of jobs he’d rather not have had.  And for his trouble he has been whipped, beaten, stoned, shipwrecked, imprisoned, starved, humiliated, and betrayed.  He’s and old man now, and he’s very weary.  On one hand he longs to have it over with:  to depart and be with Christ in eternal rest and happiness – to receive his final reward.  But then he thinks about it, and says, “No, it’s better for you that I remain. I still have lots of work to do to help you and many others – and because of that, I’m certain I will remain – and I’m glad of it.”  For Paul, doing the Lord’s work was itself a great reward.  That’s the Christian work ethic.

            Today – now at the eleventh hour – the Master calls us to work in his vineyard.  And he calls us to repent of our sinful ways of approaching his service:  of thinking that somehow we’ve earned his grace, of holding back effort, and of failing to make the most of the opportunities he gives us. For the sake of his Son, he does forgive us, and he sets us to the task once again.  May he open our eyes to see the vast work he would have us do.  And may he give us the grace to recognize the honor and reward we have in being called to do it, so that we may be his faithful and productive servants from now until the sun sets on this world, and he calls us all to receive our great reward at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Soli Deo Gloria!