So, What's In This For Me?

Sermon by James W. Crawford

September 22, l996

Matthew 19:27-20:16

Matthew finds himself discouraged. His little Messianic community, conceived in openness and servanthood, begins to fall apart at the seams. As he looks around, Matthew sees his friends scrambling for status. Some of the old timers in the community throw their weight around; they try to cash in on their seniority; they build their subtle and impregnable hierarchies. Clearly, Matthew's friends have been around for awhile. They have served as the committee chairs, the moderators, the Presidents of the boards. They hold offices in the Denominational Conference, they attend national church synods and they politic to retain their grip on the power positions. After all, they have paid their dues; the organization owes them something for loyalty and overtime.

So Matthew tackles this ticklish issue of what loyal church people really deserve. What rewards can we expect? What satisfaction can we claim? If Christianity is so great, what's in it for me, for you, for us? What is the big payoff? And as we will observe, Peter, as usual, plays the clown.

You remember the parable we read just a moment ago. Jesus describes the realm of heaven as being like a landowner who goes early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard. The landowner agrees to pay them a denarius for the day and sends them out to work. At about nine o'clock he hires another batch and promises them a fair deal; and perhaps at noon, another batch; at three he hires another group; and then as the sun begins to set, he finds some yet unemployed hanging around, makes a deal with them and brings them on board. At the close of the day he calls all the workers from the vineyard and pays them their wages, beginning with payment to the last hired at the close of the day backward through those hired at sunrise. And he pays those last hired, those who worked the shortest time, what he promised to pay those who began at daybreak. Now, of course, knowing this, those who worked all day in the heat of the scorching sun smugly expect to be rewarded handsomely for their extra effort. They stand in that line anticipating not simply their promised denarius, but overtime, double-time, a big, fat bonus.

But what happens? What does that landowner do? He pays them all the same. The folk who put in fifteen hours get the same thing as those who put in one hour. Each one gets the landowner's daily wage. And those who start at daybreak: Are they furious! They organize, They send an aggrieved contingent to the landowner. They state their case. It's unfair, a rotten deal, a rank injustice. The landowner listens and answers simply: 'I made an arrangement with you. I honored it. Take it and go home. I choose to pay the latecomers the same as I pay you early risers. I can do what I want with what I own. And do you begrudge my generosity to these latecomers? So the last will be first and the first last," meaning: there will be no distinctions among you.

I

Now what odd notion of justice is Matthew promoting? Is this the first salvo in regulating the market, in experimenting with socialism, in instituting "workfare?" Where lies the key to unlocking this shocking and unfair perspective on life? The key, friend, the key to this passage lies in the ownership and control of the vineyard. This passage sounds unfair, and it is, unless we reposition ourselves, unless we orient ourselves, our loyalties and our day to day perceptions to the one overriding truth behind this parable: The vineyard belongs to Christ. The loving, suffering, reconciling Christ owns this vineyard and pays the wages. Not Gillette, not Brigham and Women's Hospital, not the Hancock, the Pru, or Fidelity, not Harvard, the MBTA, the United Church of Christ-or any other work ethic enterprise where bottom lines are figured, the numbers accrued, the successes recorded, the values calculated and the rewards dished out. In this parable we are not dealing with the economic philosophy of Adam Smith, the Wall Street Journal, Newt Gingrich orPat Robinson. This parable is not about statistics, cash flows, time clocks, career achievements or union contracts. Here we deal with life and love in a vineyard owned and ruled by Jesus Christ.

And what does that mean? It means, simply, we live in a community founded and existing only to exercise Christ's healing, restorative, transforming love amid the human family. This healing community and its restorative mission alone are what counts.

In this community--in Christ's vineyard-nothing, not race, not class, not gender, not age, not experience, not high elective office--nothing but the quality and intensity of our service in behalf of others cuts any ice. In Christ's vineyard, as contrasted with every other vineyard we know - in Christ's vineyard our degrees and seniority, our years of distinguished service, our titles as Vice President, Chairperson, Dean, Doctor, Professor, Honorable, Reverend-whatever--are irrelevant to the overriding question: are you immersed in and compelled by love, saving, serving, seeking creative community among others? Is your discipleship exercised from a community founded to heal the wounds caused by the conceit of birthrights, the arrogance of racial identities, the disparities of privilege rooted in gender--indeed, all of our pathetic definitions of success reflected in status, income, residence and luck? These distinctions dissolve in the vineyard of Christ.

 The major issue of working in Christ's vineyard, as Matthew sees it, cannot be defined in consumer terms: "So what's in this for me? What do I get out of it?" But rather in terms of joy: "What a rich opportunity! With the needs of my neighbor, the challenges of my city, the crises in the lives of my best friends and worst enemies, with an election saturated with cheap shots, half truths and shameless hypocrisy, with disparities in income and wealth on a national and worldwide basis growing by leaps and bounds, what a rich opportunity to throw my life away for Christ's sake, and with Christ share, succor, mend, restore, heal the despair, the futility and emptiness of my neighbor's life, exhausted from the futility of striving for success, hustling for rewards, fighting for turf and carving out its little niches in human life. You see, enlisting in the effort to bind and reconcile humankind is to be a laborer in Christ's vineyard. And the wage, the bonus, the payoff is working side by side, stride for stride with the crucified and risen Christ in that healing ministry.

II

But for many of us, that wage--that payoff--is hardly enough. Just like Peter. Remember? Peter puts in his time with Jesus. He takes the brunt of three years in the Galilean countryside. Peter lives with the resistance, the threats, the mockery, the failure of Jesus' mission. And finally he asks, "Hey Lord, anything in this crusade for us? Have you got something special up your sleeve for those of us who've been around since the beginning? A tit2le? An office? A little recognition celebration? There must be something in this for us other than getting slammed around with you?"

Do you see what's happening? For all of his being near Christ's vineyard, Peter spends energy finagling for perks. He hooks his identity, his security to the bonuses, the salary grids, the power slots, the heavy committees, the proper clubs, the key pulpits. You know Peter, he's got his eye on a vanity plate, the embossed letterhead, the clergy discount.

He angles for the corner office, the reserved parking space, the designation "honorable", the title, "Reverend." In all fairness, of course, he deserves it.

Oh brother! Sound familiar? This world outside Christ's vineyard where offices, titles, street address, income brackets and tax loop holes are the quid pro quo for the competitive edge? Oh, this squeezing of credit from life. It's rampant in our families. Linda and I, for instance, have two grandchildren living in our house during their parents career transition. I'm making deals with my2 ½ year-old namesake all the time. Eat your broccoli and you get your grapes. Help me with your pajamas and I'll read you "I've Got a Wocket in My Pocket" and "Hop on Pop". It's the world of deals, quid-pro-quos, payoffs. The dinner table and the nursery at 40 Taylor Crossway, Brookline, are like floor of the New York Stock Exchange.

And our churches are not immune. "Hey she's new around here. How come, she gets that high position?" Or, "I've put in my time. I should chair that committee."

And our cities? This city? My Soul! What is it that eats this city up? Isn't it everyone claiming some special privilege, some personal prerogative, some group interest. "We were here first! This is our neighborhood." "We were founded first. Please defer appropriately." "I've got a Mayflower pedigree." "We're a special case." "Look at what we've done!" "Read our resume." "Give us what we deserve." "I'm exempt." You know the story.
 

It's terrible isn't it, this incessant scramble for privilege and payoff outside Christ's vineyard, the world Peter and you and I live in most of the time?

III

So, enter Matthew and his shocking parable. He offers an alternative. He describes a different kind of world, dissolving merit systems, pecking orders, hierarchies, golden parachutes. He says that to spend ourselves in turning the human race into the human family for Christ's sake engenders a unique but marvelous reward. The commitment of our lives --yours and mine and this church's--the commitment of our lives to Christ's new creation right here in Boston is to be engaged in a work of such nobility and grace we can describe it only as St. Matthew does: "a realm we dare call heaven."

 When someone comes late in the day to join us in the vineyard they receive the same wages we do. And what is that wage? It is the enabling presence of the living Christ by his or her side, sharing, sustaining, offering encouragement and support. The solidarity of Christ with us in a reconciling ministry to a tro2ubled individual, family, neighborhood, city or world--who can begrudge that wage to anyone? On the contrary, we can only rejoice in a latecomer's arrival! "My gosh, where have you been? What took you so long to get here? We've been waiting for you! Thank heaven you've made it!" And to those who do come late and are granted the full wages of the vineyard: life in the loving service of Christ Those latecomers do not mock those who labored since dawn. On the contrary, they ask: "Where has this been all my life? Why didn't I come sooner? How could I have learned so late of this joyous, exhilarating intimacy and service with the loving, compassionate Christ which makes working in the mid-day heat feel like coasting in the cool of the dawn? Indeed, show me the needs. Where can I help? Who cries for justice? Where's the leaky dike, the empty trench, the deserted outpost? Where lies the toughest task. Oh Lord, just be with me as I take it on; that's all I ask!"

 That is the truth, friends. You know, as well as I that when you work with someone you love and who loves you, you cannot get enough of it." In the words of St. Catherine, "All the way to heaven is heaven."

Do you see, then, what is in the Gospel for you, how the service of Christ calculates its wages? Not as Peter wants it as Senior Disciple, The Archbishop of Galilee, Cardinal Rock . . . you name it. No, the payoff comes for him and it comes for us whenever we stumble into serving Jesus Christ in this marvelous yet troubled vineyard, at dawn, at noon, at dusk, at midnight, at three in the morning. Love's generosity comes whenever we stumble into that vineyard where the only work that counts is serving and saving humanity. And the wage paid is the peace and joy, the strength and power, release and friendship--hear that, friends, the friendship--of the risen Christ: encouraging, sustaining, supporting, standing shoulder to shoulder with us through the heat of the day. Talk about generosity! What a reward: the solidarity, the comraderie, the joy of working for the peace and reconciliation of Jesus Christ in this, Christ's vineyard. Frankly now; who could ask for more?