Summary: None of us deserves salvation, but at the end of the day, it's grace that saves us.
The Kirby Hall of Civil Rights is an academic building on the campus of Lafayette College in Easton, Pennsylvania. It's an ornate stone structure that resembles a Greek temple. Kirby Hall is named for the man who gave the money to build it, back in the 1920s: Fred Morgan Kirby, a wealthy businessman.
Mr. Kirby had done rather well for himself. At the tender age of 23, he committed his life savings of $600 to purchase a variety store in the northeastern Pennsylvania town of Wilkes-Barre. He had a partner in the venture, a man named Charles Sumner Woolworth. Together, they opened the first Woolworth's "five-and-ten" -- cornerstone of what would become a retail empire.
Mr. Kirby took an active role in designing the building he'd paid for. But his interest went further than architecture. He also specified exactly what sort of teaching would go on within its walls. There's a dedicatory plaque, declaring that Kirby Hall is "for instruction in the Anglo-Saxon ideals of the true principles of constitutional freedom, including the right of man to own property and do with it as he will; the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness; and incidentally the right to sell his labor as he chooses ...."
Mr. Kirby was a Gilded Age captain of industry through and through. He was anti-socialist and anti-union. He didn't want any left-wing ideas taught inside his building!
Mr. Kirby also directed that something else be done to his building to reinforce that message. He ordered that a verse from the Bible be carved into that stone plaque. That verse is Matthew 20:15. It's part of today's Gospel lesson. In the King James version, it reads: "Is it not lawful for me to do what I will with mine own?" To Mr. Kirby, that verse seemed the perfect biblical justification for the free-enterprise system.
Turns out, the joke was on him. The scripture verse he chose doesn't say what he thought it said. This is the danger of what we call -- in the world of Bible study -- "proof-texting": pulling a single verse out of its context.
It's not likely anyone ever explained to Mr. Kirby that the person who speaks that line, in Jesus' parable of the laborers in the vineyard, is the landowner. He's anything but a dyed-in-the-wool capitalist. What the landowner does, in the parable, sounds downright socialist. This is the boss who, at the end of the day, pays all his farm hands exactly the same amount of money -- regardless of how many hours they've worked!
Christians have been trying to wrap their minds around this parable ever since. It's a baffling tale, with a provocative surprise ending.
Let's recap the plot. It's harvest time, and the vineyard-owner is desperate to get his grapes picked before they rot on the vine. So he does what farmers have always done when they have a ripe crop in the field. He goes out and hires himself some day laborers.
The boss meets the laborers at the muster zone at the crack of dawn.
"What's the wage?" the workers ask.
"Standard rate," he replies. "One denarius." A denarius was a small silver coin.
Off they go to the vineyard. The laborers notice other pickers coming in throughout the day. The last group of workers starts picking grapes at 5 p.m.
No doubt each of these later hires had likewise asked the landowner how much they'd be paid. "I'll pay you whatever's right," he replied. The Greek word for "right," in this verse, is the same word translated elsewhere as "righteous." He promises them a righteous wage. (Remember that detail: it's important.)
At the end of the day, all the workers line up to receive their pay. Each receives exactly the same: one denarius -- no matter how many hours they'd worked!
The crack-of-dawn crew get mighty incensed at this. You can understand why. "Now, wait just one minute," they say to the farmer. "This isn't fair. You paid everybody the same!"
"Did I break my contract with you?" asks the landowner. "I did not. We agreed on one denarius, and that's exactly what you're holding in your hand."
"But what about the others? Their hourly rate is much higher!"
Now here's where Mr. Kirby's favorite Bible verse comes in: "Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me?"
The boss continues: "Or are you envious because I am generous? So the last shall be first and the first shall be last."
So, what does this parable mean? Bible scholars, over the years, have struggled to come up with an explanation. One of the most popular interpretations is this: Jesus is addressing the problem of Jew vs. Gentile. The sunrise crew represents the Jewish Christians. They've been following God's law for generations. But then all these Greeks and Romans waltz into the church -- converts from paganism -- lo and behold, they get welcomed right in, without so much as a bar mitzvah (let alone, a circumcision)!
This is a problem Peter deals with in the book of Acts -- and Paul in his letters -- but it doesn't make sense in this parable Jesus tells. Here's why: Jesus isn't telling the story to any Greek converts. His audience is all Jewish. There's no resurrection yet, no Christian church. Not until the miracle of Pentecost will it begin to dawn on them that maybe their little community is morphing into something different.
So, if Jesus' parable isn't about the tensions within a multi-cultural church, then what's he talking about? Is Jesus fulfilling Mr. Kirby's worst nightmare? Is he turning out to be -- God forbid -- a socialist? Is the landowner's righteous wage a matter of paying workers according to what they need to live, rather than what the market will bear?
That's probably not the right explanation, either. There's a clue to the meaning of this parable in the very last line. Jesus concludes his tale of out-of-balance economics with this saying: "So the last will be first and the first will be last."
If we'd started the scripture reading in the preceding chapter, you would have said: "That's familiar. We've heard it before." The very last line of the preceding chapter is exactly the same: "The last will be first and the first will be last." Matthew is bracketing the parable of the laborers in the vineyard, on either side, with an identical verse -- a proverb.
So, let's try backing up and seeing what leads Jesus to share that proverb the first time.
He'd just laid on his disciples a very challenging teaching -- one that our friend Mr. Kirby probably wouldn't like very much. It's the famous saying, "I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God."1
Well, Peter and the others hear this, and they are astounded and ask, "Who then can be saved?" Matthew 19: Perhaps they mean, "What about people like us? We're not rich. We've left everything to follow you. What are we going to get out of this?"
Jesus' answer may remind you of a parent, assuring a small child that Santa's going to leave a truckload of goodies under the Christmas tree. "Don't worry about that, Peter," he essentially says. "You guys are going to sit on twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel. Not only that, I'll throw in a bonus: eternal life!"
It's then that Jesus lays that proverb on them for the first time: "But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first."
Once we understand the larger context, it becomes clear who the parable of the laborers in the vineyard is directed at. It's his disciples. Astonishingly, these are the first who will end up last. Those disciples were so delighted to hear about the twelve thrones with their names on them, that Jesus felt the need to take them down a peg. His disciples are the first crew of pickers in the parable. They'll get what's coming to them, but so will a whole lot of others.
The setting for this parable is so psychologically true-to-life. Some, perhaps including us, have a fantasy of being better than other people. We may even keep score, comparing ourselves to everyone around us. We dream of arriving at the gates of heaven with such a massive credit balance that the pearly gates will spring open of their own accord.
The New Testament scholar Robert Capon, building on the financial symbolism in this parable, makes a great point about this sort of spiritual bookkeeping. Here's what he warns us about:
Bookkeeping is the only punishable offense in the kingdom of heaven. For in that happy state, the books are ignored forever, and there is only the Book of life. And in that book, nothing stands against you. There are no debit entries that can keep you out of the clutches of the love that will not let you go. There is no minimum balance below which the grace that finagles all accounts will cancel your credit. And there is, of course, no need for you to show large amounts of black ink, because the only Auditor before whom you must finally stand is the Lamb -- and he has gone deaf, dumb and blind on the cross.2
So, what appears at first, in this parable, to be bad news for the crack-of-dawn crew is actually very good news indeed. It wouldn't have mattered if the vineyard owner had given those early birds ten denarii apiece, or even a hundred: because citizenship in the kingdom of heaven is not paid for with silver. It's paid for with blood, the blood of Jesus. And that's something none of us could ever earn.
"Are you envious because I am generous?" asks the Lord.
No, not envious. Grateful. Grateful that he welcomes us despite all our imperfections!