Homily

The long series of Sundays after Pentecost draw us into Jesus' journey toward Jerusalem. The Gospel passage this Sunday brings us into the moment just before Jesus enters the holy city. He will soon confide in his disciples about his impending end. By now it was evident that he spoke in a way that was completely extraneous to the dominant religiosity of the time, to the point of subverting its order. The opposition front had not only gathered steam, it had also finalized its decision to eliminate Jesus. And he was aware of it. He knew that continuing along this path would lead to his certain death. But he did not stop. He could not blunt his Gospel or decrease its exigency. Besides, the prophets had already underlined the distance that ran between God's way of thinking and humanity's. In chapter 55 of the prophet Isaiah we read: "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts." The distance between heaven and earth (that is, the way of reasoning, thinking and behaving in these two different worlds) was one of the dogmas of ancient Israel. If anything, one hoped that heaven would descend upon earth in all of its diversity. It is all here, the mystery of salvation history that found its culmination and the maximum of its diversity in Jesus. Jesus is not of this world although he lives in it profoundly.
The parable of the workers of the last hour, recorded by Matthew at the beginning of the twentieth chapter, is written into this context of otherness. It sounded very strange to Jesus’ listeners: it was, indeed, completely outside of the common understanding of fair wages. The master of the vineyard gave the same wages both to those who worked for the full day and to those who worked one hour only. The narrated event takes place around the initiative of an agricultural entrepreneur, a wine-grower who is anxious to enlist workers for his vineyard for the whole day (some have thought that the owner was eager to finish the harvest quickly before the rainy season). He goes outside his house a good five times that day. He goes to the square at dawn and agrees with the first workers on a denarius as compensation (it was the normal daily wage). He then goes out at nine in the morning, again at midday, at three and finally at five. The response that these last workers give to his invitation ("no one has hired us") makes us think of the many, young and not so young, unemployed, not just in regards to remunerative work, as in work which builds a life which is more in solidarity with others. All the worse if they are employed at a very young age and work under degrading conditions. There are so many who are unemployed in this sense: it is the young people who are disillusioned or so much under the yoke of consumerism that they close in on themselves, becoming simultaneously executioners and victims. Most likely they have become the way they are because "no one has hired them."
In the parable, the workers are paid at the end of the day. Those who were hired last receive one denarius each. When those who were hired first see what is taking place they believe that they will receive more. It is logical to think what they do, perhaps it is even fair. When they discover that they have been give the same amount as those who were hired last they begin to murmur against the owner and they are tempted to say that "this isn’t fair." And, in effect, those who listened to the parable (and perhaps us, as well) share these same feelings. But this is precisely where the distance between heaven and earth lies. We should first of all make clear that Jesus doesn’t want to give us a lesson on social justice, nor present us with one of the world’s bosses who justly rewards according to what was given. He presents us with an absolutely exceptional person, who treats those under him outside of the bounds of legalistic rules. Jesus wants to illustrate how the Father acts, his kindness, his magnanimousness, and his mercy which surpass the common human way of thinking as much as heaven is far from earth. To work for the Lord, for the Gospel, for life and against the abuse and death of others is already a great reward. This extraordinary kindness and mercy cause murmuring and scandal. It is not that God distributes his rewards capriciously, giving to one more than to another. God is unjust with no one. It is the abundance of his kindness which impels him to give to all according to their need. God’s justice does not lie in an abstract principle of equity, but is measured according to his children’s needs. This parable moves us to consider what great wisdom there is the path which the Lord shows us. The reward consists in being called to labour in the Lord’s vineyard and in the consolation which comes from this. It does not matter if we have been working for a long or short time in the vineyard.