26th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings: Ezek 18:25-28; Phil 2:1-11; Mt 21:28-32

VIDEO

St. Paul exhorts the Christians of Phillipi 
to be of the same mind,
united in one love and concern for one another.
He then tells them to have “the same mind 
that is also in Christ Jesus.”
Christians are to be one mind
by letting Christ’s mind be our mind.
“Mind” here does not refer 
to some thought processor locked up in our heads,
but is what is revealed in the pattern of our lives,
a pattern that can be perceived not in a moment
but only in a life-story that unfolds over time.
To say that Christ’s mind ought to be our mind
is to say that his story ought to be our story.

And what is his story?
Paul gives it to us in brief:
It is the story of one who, 
from before all time,
is in the form of God,
yet does not grasp 
and hold tight to that status,
but empties himself to the point 
of embracing the shame of the cross
and the annihilation of death.
This, however, is only 
the first act of the drama.
For in a surprising turn of events,
the one who emptied himself 
out of love and loyalty to his Father
is filled with life and glory,
is raised up from death to receive 
the name above every other name—
the name of the great “I am” 
whom all creation worships.
It is a story of glory that grows
not from seeking what is in our own interest
but from saying yes to the divine will,
which seeks the common good 
of the entire cosmos.

What does it mean to make this story our story?
Paul says it is a matter of 
doing nothing out of selfishness or vainglory,
regarding others as more important than ourselves,
looking out not only for our own interests,
but also for those of others.
We make this story our story
through the life of the body of Christ,
into which we have been drawn and reborn,
freed from self-concern by the grace we receive,
trusting that, if we are truly united in one heart,
the love and concern we show to others
will be the same love that they show to us.
To have the mind of Christ
is not to have a set of correct ideas
but to have a shared pattern of life 
that embraces cross and resurrection
out of love for God and neighbor.

The mistake of second son in today’s parable,
and of the chief priests and elders of the people
to whom Jesus addresses the parable,
is to think that it is enough 
to know the right answer 
without living it out in our life-story.
The second son knows the correct answer
when his father orders him to go out
and work in his vineyard: it is “yes sir.”
But as the story unfolds it becomes apparent
that this is mere talk, mere verbal obedience,
not the obedience that Jesus 
will display on the cross,
not the obedience of those 
who have the mind of Christ
and do nothing out of vainglory.

But the first son, 

who clearly does not know 

the right way to answer

and so insolently refuses 

his father’s order,

is subject to a sudden swerve 

in the plot of his story,

in which disobedience 

becomes obedience.

Jesus’ parable is not simply making the point
that deeds are more important that words,
though it is clearly making that point.
It is also making the point that 
the process of attaining the mind of Christ, 
the path by which his story becomes our story,
is a long and twisting one that can only be judged 
once the whole story has been told.
Were we to stop the parable with only 
the two sons’ initial replies,
we would badly misjudge which of them
had done his father’s will.
We don’t know what events intervened.
Perhaps the first son, who said “no,”
began to think of all that his father 
had done for him,
or reflected on the commandment 
to honor your father and mother, 
or was inspired by some else’s example.
Perhaps the second son, who said “yes,” 
remembered something else he wanted to do
that seemed more important or more fun,
or a better use of his time.
We don’t know what events intervened,
but we do know that their stories,
like each of our stories,
are subject to plot twists and sudden reversals
that make it difficult to read their pattern
before their telling is done.
We know that who we are at the outset
is not who we end up being at the end.
This is why Jesus tells the priests and elders,
somewhat shockingly,
that “tax collectors and prostitutes
are entering the kingdom of God before you.”
But if we take the story of Jesus—
the story of cross and resurrection— 
to be our pattern,
then we ought to expect
things to turn out unexpectedly,
and we should never be surprised 

if it is those that are despised and rejected,
that seem dishonorable and disreputable,
who in the end are raised up and glorified by God.

As we strive to attain the mind of Christ,
as individuals and as a Church,
as we seek to make his story our story,
we ought to feel both challenged 
and the comforted by this parable.
We ought to feel challenged 
to respond to God’s call
not only with our lips 
but with our lives,
by conforming them
to the pattern of his life,
emptying ourselves 
into love of God and neighbor.
But we also ought to be comforted
to know that life is long 
and all our stories are still being written,
and the twists and turns that lie behind us
and those that still lie ahead,
are never beyond the power of God
to guide the humble to justice, 
and teaches them his way.
So let us pray that God, who is merciful,
would have mercy on us all.

25th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings: Is 55:6-9; Phil 1:20c-24, 27a; Mt 20:1-16a

VIDEO

When my children were young,
and one of them
got to have or do something 
that the others did not,
they would complain “it’s not fair.”
And I would tell them, 
“‘fair’ is overrated.”
Now that my children are adults
they tell me that they sort of 
think of this as my motto.
Whether or not it is in fact my motto,
it certainly seems to be the motto
of the landowner in today’s Gospel.

If you believe that wages
ought to reflect productivity,
and that reward ought to be
proportionate to merit,
you might be tempted to say, 
upon hearing this parable,
“It’s not fair.”.
It’s hard not to sympathize
with those first-hired laborers.
The daily wage that they toiled to gain,
others received as pretty much a freebee.
True, the landowner was not 
out-and-out unjust,
since he paid the ones he first hired
the wage they had agreed on.
But they are still bothered
by the fact that they,
who worked the whole day,
ended up with no more 
than those who worked 
for only one hour.
They grumble against the landowner,
saying, more or less,
“It’s not fair.”
To which the landowner replies,
more or less,
“‘fair’ is overrated.”

In the face of this seeming unfairness,
it might help to recall that 
this parable is not simply 
given to us as a lesson 
in economics and labor relations,
but as a teaching about salvation.
We Christians believe that
eternal life in God’s kingdom
is disproportionate to anything
that we can ever earn or deserve,
no matter how long we have labored.
Not only do the sinful tendencies 
of our fallen nature
make it highly unlikely 
that we could adequately fulfill
the demands of righteousness,
by always following God’s commandments
or the dictates of our own conscience,
but even if we did all those righteous deeds
they would be as nothing 
when placed in a balance
against the weight of eternity.
How could we ever earn
so sublime a destiny?
With regard to salvation
“fair” is overrated,
because all that fairness 
would get any of us
is wailing and gnashing of teeth
where the worm never dies
and the fire is not quenched.

This is true for all of us without exception.
So, in God’s boundless mercy,
the last-minute penitents 
who have spent their lives 
in unrighteousness
and in their dying gasp 
breathe out an act of contrition
receive the same reward as those 
who have toiled dutifully for decades
in the vineyard of the Lord.
The penitent and the dutiful 
are united in their reward
not because they have put in the same effort
but because they have the same need—
to receive the bread of immortality,
to drink from the spring of living water—
and it is the nature of mercy 
to regard what someone needs
rather than what they deserve,
to be generous rather than fair.
And this should make all of us
breathe a sigh of relief.

The parable we hear today 
points us to the mystery of grace,
but it also keeps its feet planted
in more mundane matters.
It is ultimately about salvation,
but it is also not not about economics
and the just distribution of goods.
Jesus isn’t going to let us off the hook
quite so easily.
After all, shouldn’t our convictions 
about ultimate things, 
like salvation,
shape our convictions 
about less-than-ultimate things?
If “fair” is overrated 
with regard to our ultimate good,
if generosity to those in need 
is the way that God deals with us sinners,
is it totally implausible that something similar 
might be true with regard 
to such worldly matters
as food and shelter,
healthcare and education?

When God says through the prophet Isaiah,
“my thoughts are not your thoughts,
nor are your ways my ways,”
he is not absolving us 
from acting toward others
in the way God has acted toward us.
Rather, he is exhorting us 
to think and act within our earthly sphere
with something like the mercy and generosity 
that God has shown to us.
The earth’s goods are not meant 
to be a score-keeping system
for tracking who has worked hard,
or been clever and resourceful,
or maybe just gotten lucky.
The earth’s goods are given generously by God
so that human need might be alleviated.

And this is, in fact, 
the longstanding teaching of the Church.
In his recent encyclical Magnifica Humanitas,
Pope Leo reiterates the demand 
of his predecessor, Pius XI, 
“that wages be proportionate 
not only to performance, 
but also to the needs of workers 
and their families” (MH §31).
Leo goes on to say, “the earth’s goods—
soil, water, air and natural resources—
are given by God to the entire human family 
to sustain the lives of all, 
and… every person has an inherent right 
to the use of such goods” (MH §65).

What we believe to be true 
about what is most important—
that the eternal reward we receive 
is in proportion to our need 
and not to our merit—
must surely be true as well 
of things of lesser importance, 
like money or food or shelter.
Surely the generosity of God
in providing for the world
ought to find in us
a corresponding generosity
toward our brothers and sisters 
in their need.

So perhaps it is not really
that “fair” is overrated
but rather it is misunderstood.
Perhaps what is fair is that we, 
who in God’s generous mercy 
have received a reward 
far exceeding our labor,
ought to think and act toward others
as God thinks and acts toward us,
looking to the need of our neighbor,
and judging the fairness 
of both our personal dealings
and of our societies and economies
not in terms of payment for performance
but of sharing the goods God bestows
with those who are most in need.

St. Paul exhorts us today,
“conduct yourselves in a way 
worthy of the gospel of Christ,”
and this is the Gospel 
of unmerited mercy.
Let us pray that God
would make us worthy, 
would make our thoughts
like his thoughts
and our ways
like his ways
so that God, in his mercy,
might have mercy on us all.