Of all the stories that Jesus told about God, this one is perhaps the most shocking to our American sensibilities.  It goes counter to something deep inside of us.  Can you imagine Senator Obama or McCain standing in front of a GM or Ford plant and tell a teeming crowd of union workers that seniority does not matter – everyone gets paid the same, regardless of how hard they work or how long or how many years?  It would not go over very highly, would it?  Equal pay for equal work-sure.   But equal pay for unequal work – it’s downright un-American.  

Apparently, Jesus knew that this message was pretty crazy even for his own age.  He’s not retelling an actual event, but crafting a story to get across a point.  So the story can go any way he wants it to.  And the people within his story are complaining – the behavior of the landowner doesn’t make sense to them either.  Jesus is up to something.  What is he trying to tell us about God?  How does God think, who’s ways are not our ways, as we heard in Isaiah?  How can we begin to think a bit more like God because of what Jesus tells us? 

Perhaps one of the ways to think about this story comes from the perspective of winemaking.  I am told that when the grapes are ready to be harvested, you have about 36 hours to get them all off of the vine and into the vine presses.  That is not a lot of time, especially in a society that used human labor.  So, one of the points of the parable, besides the generosity of God, is God’s overwhelming desire to get the harvest into storage before it is too late.  ‘Get it in, get it in’, is the drumbeat in the vineyard owner’s heart.  Hire as many laborers as necessary, but get it in.  So in the morning, and mid morning and afternoon and almost at the end of the day, comes the drive – make sure it all gets harvested.  It is worth it to God to make sure it gets harvested…  Because on this level, the story is not about the laborers and who is doing what, but rather it is about getting the harvest in.  And suddenly, the divine generosity is seen as nothing less than the desire of God for the good of every created soul.  God desires to get his harvest – you and I and all our sisters and brothers into heaven. 

But the other way to pray into it comes from the perspective of motive.  Why do you do what you do? In the story, the workers do what they do to put food on the table and to earn their daily bread.  Might Jesus, who always invites people to step back and take a look at the bigger picture, by asking this question of his disciples and the crowd following him:  “Why do you do what you do?  Are you doing it because it is what you know in your heart of hearts to be right and good and just, or are you doing it because you are hoping for a reward?  If it is just for the reward, let me tell you one of the truths about that way of living.”   

You will always be angry – because someone will get ‘more’ of a reward than you.  There will always be unfairness in the scheme of life.  And if you are being good ONLY because of what comes back to you, that will not last and will not sustain you through the hard times.  (Is heaven a good goal?  Yes.  Something to be striven for? Yes. But to look at it as a reward for our labors will eventually get you into trouble.)  I thought I was somewhat immune to that tendency.  But, the other day, after the 5:00 mass at St. Ann, a gentleman came up and said:  “Wasn’t it great that Fr. “X” became a Monsignor?  He really works hard doesn’t he?  Gosh, what a great guy he is and he’s been ordained for a long time and…”    And suddenly, I was aware of this knot in the middle of my chest.  And the more he talked, the bigger it became.  “What am I, chopped liver?” said my heart. (One wag said: “What happens when you name 28 Msgrs?  You have 28 happy or mostly happy guys, and about 241 hard working priests who are angry…)  And there it was, in my own heart.  “Bill Kempf, are you doing this priesthood because of the title?  The rewards?  Or, are you doing it because of what you know in your heart to be true?”

Are you envious because I am generous?  That becomes the question asked by the God figure.  Or does your heart rejoice with every profligate that finds their way back home?  With every bum rescued from the street at the end of their lives?  With every deathbed conversion – does your heart rejoice?  That is how God sees it – rejoicing over each bit of the harvest that comes home into the barn of heaven.  If you knew that everyone was getting into heaven, regardless of how they lived, would you change anything about how you live?  Would you do anything differently?  I wonder.  I wonder…