Thursday, February 13, 2014

1st February Trinity 2009,

Van Gogh

1st February Trinity
Matthew 20: 1-16

The kingdom of the heavens is like a man, the master of his house, who went out early in the morning to hire workers for his vineyard. Agreeing to pay them one denarius a day, he sent them out into his vineyard.

At about 9 o’clock he went out and saw others standing in the marketplace, and he said to them, “Go also into my vineyard, and I will give you whatever is right.” So they went.

He went out again at about noon and at 3 o’clock and did the same. At 5 o’clock he went out and found others standing there, and he said to them, “Why do you stand here all day idle?” They said, “Because no one has hired us.” He said, “You, too, go into the vineyard.”

And when evening came, the master of the vineyard said to his steward, “Call the workers and give them their wages, beginning with the last ones hired and going on to the first.”

Those who had been hired at 5 o’clock came forward, and each received one denarius. Therefore, when it was the turn of those who were hired first, they expected to receive more. However, they too also received one denarius each. They took it, but they began to grumble against the master of the house. “These men who were hired last only worked one hour, and you have made them equal to us, who have borne the burden of the work and the heat of the day.”

However, he answered one of them, saying, “Friend, I am not being unjust to you. Did you not agree with me for one denarius? Take what you have earned and go. I wish to give to the man hired last the same as I give to you. Have I not the right to do as I wish with what is mine? Or do you give me an evil look because I am generous? Thus will the last be first and the first will one day be last. “


 1st Feb Trinity
February 8, 2009
Matthew 20: 1 – 16


In last week’s reading, Christ infused the life-long paralytic with a jolt of His fiery will. We can think of paralysis as having been the state of mankind in general; and this week’s reading as the continuation of the story. In this reading, it is as though Christ is saying to mankind: now that your will has been fired up, let’s get working!

In the story, the master of the house, who is the kingdom of the heavens, checks on the work in progress every two hours. He engages more and more workers. At the end of the day comes the reckoning. Each receives the agreed-upon one denarius, enough for a day’s living, no matter whether he worked all day or only one hour.

On an external level this may seem unfair, until one realizes that this is a metaphor for life. The kingdom of the heavens sees to it that each of us, sent into the fields of earth, gets exactly what we need for each day, our daily bread. We are not rewarded more than others for doing a full day’s work. Our reward, our one denarius, is the ability, the gift really, of being able to live for one more day, to have one more chance to contribute to the work of the world. We are each given the one denarius of one more day to evolve, to suffer and to grow; one more day to be grateful for the privilege of life. 

Pulling in the harvest requires a team. Early or late, we are all necessary for the work of earth. Envy of someone else’s apparent good fortune, comparing it with our own, is deadly. For envy is an acid that eats away, both at its container, and at the social fabric into which we are all woven. To think that doing more, suffering more, bearing more should mean greater rewards is to indulge in a destructive sense of self-importance and entitlement that misses the point. For the rewards that the kingdom of the heavens, the kingdom of the human heart on earth, are simply: one more day; existence itself, which we owe, not to our own efforts, but to the generosity of the creator. We are working for Him. And at the end of the day, the only appropriate and healthy reaction is gratitude. Denise Levertov embodies this humble but open gesture of soul:

A certain day became a presence to me;
there it was, confronting me—a sky, air, light:
a being. And before it started to descend
from the height of noon, it leaned over
and struck my shoulder as if with
the flat of a sword, granting me
honor and a task. The day’s blow
rang out, metallic—or it was I , a bell awakened,
and what I heard was my whole self
saying and singing what it knew: I can.[1]



[1] Denise Levertov, “Variation on a Theme by Rilke”, in Dancing with Joy, ed. by Roger Housden, p. 107.

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