Proper 21 A Sept.
25, 2011
Exodus 17:1-7
Ps. 78:1-4, 12-16
Philippians 2:1-13; Matthew
21:23-32Ps. 78:1-4, 12-16
What do you think?
I think it would be kind of shocking to be in a group with
Jesus and have him throw that question out. I would be so afraid he was trying
to trick me! Wasn’t that the way that fictional law school professor did it in
the old movie, The Paper Chase? A man had two sons; which did the will of the
father? How can you win, answering a question like that?
In the peasant economy of Jesus’ day, this question would be
nearly impossible to answer. Oh, we know how Matthew wants us to answer: the
first son did the will of the father. Even though he snubbed the father and
refused, he did then pitch in and do the work. The second was only a surface
do-gooder; he really turned out to be a slacker, a mall rat, a fair-weather
son.
In the peasant economy of Jesus’ day, neither son did the
will of the father totally, but both sons came through with something. In that
peasant economy, the survival of the family was, of course, important, but
almost as important – almost impossible to separate from survival – was the
honor of the family. And so, the first son shamed his father, by initially
refusing to go work, although his later change of heart helped the family
survive. And the second son honored the father by his words, but then of
course, undermined the family’s survival by not getting the work done.
The question then is not which son would the father choose,
but with which son would the father be less angry? This parable is a shock to
the economy of honor and shame, for the one who appears to honor the family is
really on the outside; the one who appears to shame the family is the one who
does the work to support it.
The vineyard, is of course, the kingdom of God, and Jesus
tells this parable to upset his hearers. The obviously righteous give lip
service to what God wants – what God has always wanted – and the slightly seedy
and disreputable are the ones who get it. It’s a hard lesson to hear.
Now Jesus does not say that that slick-tongued slacker son
won’t get into the kingdom of heaven; he just says that the ones we least expect
will get there first. There is plenty of work to do in this vineyard, and
really, really, God has a job for all of us, even those of us who are kind of
whiny and reluctant and maybe have to be hit over the head with a 2 by 4 before
we get it that we, too, have a job to do. God calls all of us to work in the
vineyard today.
This lesson makes it obvious, doesn’t it? It’s God’s
vineyard, God’s world, and we are stewards of all the gifts God has given us. The
post-communion prayer we’ll use for the next few weeks puts it, I think, very
well. It starts out with thanking God, once again, for all God has given us.
Then it reinforces our marching orders, spells out just what is involved in
this work in the vineyard that God has called us to do:
Take us out to live as changed people,
because we have shared the living bread and cannot remain the same.
because we have shared the living bread and cannot remain the same.
There is some cost, isn’t there, to this working in the
vineyard. We are given bountiful gifts, but God expects something from us.
Ask much of us, expect much from us, enable much by us,
encourage many through us.
So, Lord, may we live to your glory, as inhabitants of earth, and citizens of the commonwealth of heaven.
So, Lord, may we live to your glory, as inhabitants of earth, and citizens of the commonwealth of heaven.
“Commonwealth” is a word out of the 17th century, a word
that Puritans used to describe the world that God had put into their care. They
understood that word quite literally: the world is the common wealth for all
God’s people. We hold all this wealth, this well-being, this welfare, in
common, which is what it means to be stewards. We steward this wealth, which is
God’s, which we hold in trust, in common, for all of God’s people. For all of
God’s creation.
Think of all the things of which we – you – are stewards:
our church home, your family home, the town, village, city or county in which
you live.
What does it mean, then, to do the will of God in all of
these places? With these people, some of whom are slick-tongued slackers and
some of whom look like they don’t belong? What does God ask us to do here? What
do we give? How are we changed?
It doesn’t matter who gets in first. Only God decides that;
there is really no dress code that we can figure out.
What matters is that we are all here.
What do you think? A man had two sons; he went to the first
and said, “Son, go and work in the vineyard today.” What would be your answer?
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