Sermon: "God's Grace in a Six Pack of Lucky," September 20, 2020

The Parable of the Labourers in the Vineyard

Matthew 20:1-16
Sermon: "God's Grace in a Six Pack of Lucky”
Preacher: Rev. Ryan Slifka

There’s a vineyard owner, Jesus says, one who’s got a lot of work that needs to be done.

First, the owner hires some guys at dawn, offering to pay the going rate—1 denarius—enough to feed a big peasant family for a day’s work. Straightforward.

They get to work, but for whatever reason—maybe there’s rain coming soon, or maybe he’s just not good at estimating the actual amount of work—but the owner has to go out and find some more workers.

At 9am, he pulls his pickup truck to the street corner where guys are hanging out looking for day work. Hop in, he says! I’ll pay you what’s right. And they do, he drops them off with the others to gather grapes.

Same thing happens again at noon. Maybe the rains coming on quicker than he expected, or whatever. But then the owner drives that pickup truck back into town again and goes looking for more workers. Same thing—hop in, and I’ll pay you what’s right.

The same thing happens again, though. At 3pm, street corner, more workers, I’ll pay you what’s right. And then again, even at 5pm, with only an hour or so left of sunlight left in the day. More workers. These guys are the bottom of the barrel. Nobody else would pick them up, but again, this owner—“hop in, I’ll pay you what’s right.”

No doubt everyone was happy to get work at this point. But when it’s quittin’ time, not everyone’s so happy. Everyone lines up to get paid. The guys who arrived last get paid first—a big surprise. One denarius—an envelope stuffed with a whole day’s work of cash. Then the 3pm guys. Same thing—whole day’s wage. Then the 12pm guys, same thing. 9am guys same thing. And the guys who were there at dawn—you guessed it. Same thing. One day’s wage.

And the guys who were there from the beginning, they can’t believe it. “Look, we slaved all day in the hot sun, from daybreak. All we want is our fair share, what’s owed to us. But these Johnny-come-latelies, who only showed up and punched in for an hour. You’re giving them the same? That’s an insult, that’s what that is.”

But the owner isn’t having any of it. “Look,” he says. “Look, you got what we agreed to. Take that one denarii you’ve been given and go. I’ve decided to give the rest of these guys the same as I gave you. You giving me the stinkeye, just because I’m generous?” You mad just because I decided to throw some money around?

The first thing you probably noticed about this parable is just how unfair it is. The guys who did all the work, get the same pay as the guys who did an hour. I mean, I don’t know about you, but I’d be at least a little bit resentful if I did a whole days work and I turned around and some guy who showed up for an hour got the same paycheque as me. Not only is it offensive, it seems like a really bad way to run a business.

Now, this parable Jesus tells isn’t just about a sub par businessman. Since it’s a parable that Jesus tells, it’s about God. This parable is one of the best illustrations of the concept of God’s grace.

“What is grace?” asks the Anglican theologian Paul Zahl. “What is grace? Grace is love that seeks you out when you have nothing to give in return. Grace is love coming at you that has nothing to do with you. Grace is being loved when you are unloveable. It is being loved when you are the opposite of loveable. The cliché definition of grace is “unconditional love.” It is a true cliché, for it is a good description of the thing.”[i]

This parable is a parable of God’s grace, in that it shows a God who shows no special partiality to any human being. God is a God who is relentlessly seeking us out, however many trips to the corner it takes to bring us as workers in his garden.

What's possibly offensive about grace? In the end, God’s grace, God’s unconditional love, God’s mercy, God’s favour, symbolized by that single denarii, is handed out to all equally. Same pay... no matter when you show up. No matter how hard you work, or how long you’ve toiled.

We set up so much of our lives in the expectation that the world is, or at least should be, fair. And that's what bugs us about grace. We believe that life functions by a set of rules. If we play by those rules we should get ahead, and if we don’t, sorry. There’s an order to things. Which is why we get so mad when someone comes in and messes with it.

Grace is makes us made, it drives us crazy. It’s offensive because by definition isn’t fair. Freely given to all. God sends the rain on the just and the unjust alike.

This past week I was walking home from the church in the forest fire haze. I was walking by the community garden around the corner, and there were a couple of guys, probably in their thirties, just lounging there on the grass. They looked pretty shabby. They had a grocery cart full of all sorts of junk, while there was a bunch of garbage just splayed about. And to top it all off they were sharing a can of Lucky beer.

As most of you have probably noticed, the Comox Valley in the last year has had an influx of street people, many with severe addiction problems, mental illnesses. This hasn't made our work as a downtown church that hosts a soup kitchen any easier, because with the influx of people has come an influx of crime, graffiti, and open drug use. I won’t lie—this has not made Courtenay a nicer place to live. For anyone. It’s just the honest truth.

As a church, we do a bunch of things to try to help people like this. So do a myriad of social services in town. Free lunches, free services, this that and the other.

And so in my mind as I’m walking by I have this feeling of irritation and resentment. I give a polite smile and a nod. And when one of the guys asks me for change, I just nod my head again with a “sorry,” and keep walking. Tired of putting in the effort. Tired of putting in the energy when rather than clean streets and changed lives, we often get graffiti, garbage, and public drunkenness in response. No matter how hard or long we plug away at it. Not wanting to pay for another six pack of Lucky.

And so I keep walking. And I’m not even out of earshot, and hear the guy ask another person for change. I didn’t see who—as I was just walking as fast as I could to get away. Could have been anyone. But the thing is, this other person must have given him something. Because I heard a gruff, little voice say half-heartedly “God bless.”

You might guess where I’m going with this next. As I was walking home, I thought about this scripture. Where the workers were all paid the same, about the owner’s words “are you envois because I am generous?” I thought about the offensive nature of grace. I thought about how the scriptures tell us that God became human, suffered death and rose again, not just for the good upstanding people who have their lives together. People who put in the work from sun up to sun down. But he came to bring the gift of salvation, healing, abundant life to all. Christ came not to call the righteous but sinners. And not only that, we have a Lord who never stops seeking us, from sun up, to sun down, to bring us that one denarii—that gift of grace—and to recruit us for his kingdom. That includes even the idle ones wasting yet another gift on Lucky. And he even came for those who—like me—grumble at the thought of such extravagant grace.

Now, I don’t pretend to have the solution to the problems of homelessness and addiction. I’m not suggesting any specific public policy. Nor am I exhorting you to feel as guilty as I did for not giving money to a homeless person. What I am suggesting, though, is the gospel. That we are all in need of the same redemption. And that each of us is promised that same wage of grace. It may be offensive and infurating at first. But the truth is that we will never truly be free from the power of sin until we are able to see ourselves and others—no matter how idle and undeserving they (or we) may seem—as God’s beloved children, as those for whom Christ died.

It may be offensive. It may be unfair. But it’s our only way to freedom.

AMEN.

[i] Paul F. M. Zahl, Grace in Practice: a Theology of Everyday Life (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007), 36.