Winner, Winner Chicken Dinner - Sermon for the Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Winner, Winner Chicken Dinner
Pentecost 16A (Lectionary 25)
September 20, 2020
Grace, Waseca, MN
Matthew 20.1-16; Jonah 3.10-4.11

In the early 80s, while I was still in the business world, I was transferred to Northern Virginia considered to be part of the Washington, DC metro area. About a year later we moved from the condo we were renting to our first house a few miles away. To do so, we managed to scrape together some friends and co-workers to help us load up a moving truck. At the appropriate time, we took a lunch break and we provided fried chicken from Roy Rogers fast food restaurant. (They had good chicken!) As we stood around eating–there were no tables or chairs–it occurred to me we were living out Jesus’ parable of the workers in the vineyard. Some of our workers came right away at the beginning of the day, some came partway through, and others came at the end. Yet all were fed the same and they could have as much chicken as they wished.

It’s helpful to know that Jesus tells this parable to his disciples who wonder what will become of them. Jesus has just told a rich, young man to sell everything to enter the kingdom of heaven. Jesus’ disciples wonder about themselves who have left everything to follow him. At first Jesus’ reply sounds great: 12 thrones for them, a hundredfold and eternal life for the others. But there are two things to note. First, the crowds and religious leaders are in the background overhearing what Jesus is saying. Second, Jesus makes the same pronouncement after this good news that ends this parable: the last will be first and the first will be last. Jesus balances his good news to the disciples with this sobering news about God’s economics in his kingdom, which is markedly different from the human economics. You can see the hackles rising and feel the tension increasing, just as it’s probably happening with you as you heard this parable.

Mark Twain has said, “It ain't those parts of the Bible that I can't understand that bother me, it is the parts that I do understand.” Jonah, the “anti-prophet,” appears to be the Bible’s poster child for Twain’s quote. (Jonah has been called an anti-prophet because he does the opposite of what prophets usually do.) God wants to send him to Nineveh to give them one last chance to come around to God. But the Israelites hate the Ninevites and so Jonah flees in the opposite direction getting on a boat. He gets tossed overboard, swallowed by a great fish, and vomited onto the shore back where he started. Jonah then grudgingly goes to Nineveh and preaches arguably the worst sermon ever and lo and behold, the people of Nineveh repent. God changes his mind about punishment and Jonah sulks.

In what might be the most ironic statement in the Bible, Jonah says, “…I knew that you are a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, and ready to relent.” So, the reactions of Jonah and the workers in the vineyard caused me to wonder: why is it that Jonah, the workers, (and us, if we’re honest) have such a hard time with this? Why are our ideas about fairness and justice so entrenched in retribution and punishment? Certainly, our American DNA is rooted in the Protestant work ethic, that hard work equals rewards. But we also know that there are people who don’t get what they deserve. There are people who work their fingers to the bone for little pay and those who don’t work very hard and get paid handsomely.

I think we have a hard time with these stories because we’re afraid. What are we afraid about? We’re afraid that Jesus’ message is not true as much as we are afraid that it is true. We’re just as afraid that we aren’t worthy enough to belong to a community just as much as we’re afraid to admit that everyone belongs to the same community. We can’t possibly believe that God loves us in spite of our unlovable parts so it must be true that God can’t possibly love, cherish and welcome those who appear to be even less lovable than us. So, what do we do? We measure ourselves against others, hoping that we’re just better enough than the next person to earn God’s love.

But God’s love and grace and generosity don’t work that way. So, I think another reason we have trouble is that, like Jonah, we haven’t realized God’s grace and generosity. I believe God’s grace and generosity constantly flow in our lives, but for some reason it isn’t real to us. That’s why practicing generosity is a mark of discipleship: being generous helps us feel God’s generosity. We don’t practice generosity to earn God’s favor; we do it to help us see God’s favor in our lives. On the day of that move, it never occurred to me not to feed everyone chicken regardless of how much they worked. Yet, I realize now that it was an act of God’s grace to me to see God’s grace through me that day.

So, in order to realize God’s generosity, would you try something this week: practice a random act of generosity to someone, especially someone you might think not “deserving.” If that’s not possible, look for an act of generosity to you from somewhere you don’t expect. It doesn’t have to be a big deal; it could be a kind word or a small act of kindness. Then take some time to ponder that experience. Whatever happens, I guarantee it’s better than chicken. Amen.

To watch a video version of the message, click here.