September
18,
2005:
Harvest
Help
Matthew
20:1-16;
Exodus
16:2-15;
Psalm
105:1-6,
37-45
Eileen
Parfrey,
Pastor
Springwater
Presbyterian
Church
God's
mercy
can
be
so
offensive
sometimes,
which
is
what
Jesus'
story
is
about.
He
starts
it
by
saying,
this
is
what
the
kingdom
of
heaven
is
like.
It's
a
parable,
which
means
that
shocking
and
offending
is
par
for
the
course.
Parables
seem
innocuous,
drawn
as
they
are
from
common,
ordinary
life.
But
their
meaning
is
ambiguous
enough
to
provoke
listeners
to
thinking.
Was
the
owner
too
fair?
Did
the
hard-working
early
hires
have
a
legitimate
complaint,
or
were
they
merely
seeing
their
Gravy
Train
derailed?
Were
the
late-hires
lolling
around
taverns
and
feeding
at
the
public
trough
until
after
the
heat
of
the
day?
Jesus
is
telling
his
disciples
that
they
need
to
re-think
the
wisdom
of
counting
on
a
place
of
honor
in
the
coming
court
of
Heaven's
Kingdom.
What
we
hear
is
not
what
we'd
predict.
While
the
Righteous
God
does
not
become
the
Easygoing
God,
we
do
hear
about
the
outrageous
justice
(in
God's
economy
of
salvation),
motivated
not
by
what's
"fair"
but
by
mercy
and
grace.
And
it
takes
place
during
that
narrow
window
of
time
during
grape
harvest
for
the
best
vintage.
Scholars
have
sometimes
said
that
this
story
addresses
the
resentment
of
the
Pharisees
against
Jesus'
habit
of
including
the
most
outrageous
sinners
in
his
in
group.
Other
scholars
have
said
that
the
story
reflects
the
early
church
tensions
between
Jewish
and
Gentile
Christians.
Well,
fine,
but
why
bother
reading
this
story
each
time
it
comes
up
in
the
lectionary,
if
it's
only
ancient
history?
I
suspect
the
story
is
also
directed
at
those
of
us
who
have
trouble
with
other
people
receiving
gifts.
Anyone
can
feel
a
little
twinge
when
someone
else
gets
a
windfall
or
gift
that
we'd
been
wishing
for
ourselves.
When
my
mother
was
dying,
at
the
tender
age
of
59,
she
was
struck
by
the
irony
of
her
situation.
She
had
faithfully
exercised,
eaten
healthy
foods,
avoided
fats,
and
here
she
was-dying.
Her
overweight
friends
who
lived
on
junk
food,
and
whose
exercise
programs
consisted
of
pointing
the
television
remote,
weren't
even
sick.
How
was
this
fair?
It's
like
living
a
compassionate,
faithful
life
of
Christian
discipline
and
finding
out
that
you
get
into
heaven
at
the
same
rate
as
those
who
live
hard
and
wrong,
but
whose
deathbed
reconciliations
get
them
admittance
right
when
it's
needed.
Where
is
the
fairness
there?
Don't
the
Good
Ones
deserve
a
better
place
in
heaven
than
the
Wild
Ones
who
don't
do
the
faith
thing
until
they're
nearly
dead?
Kids
know
what's
fair.
If
your
sister
gets
into
youth
group
in
fifth
grade,
by
golly
you
deserve
to
be
in
youth
group
in
fifth
grade.
If
you
had
to
go
to
bed
at
7:30
when
you
were
8,
your
8-year-old
brother
ought
to
go
to
bed
then,
too.
If
a
group
works
on
a
science
project
together,
everyone
should
get
the
same
grade.
If
management
gets
Friday
afternoons
off
in
the
summer,
fairness
says
that
labor
get
them
off,
too.
Things
get
sticky
when
you
realize
you
had
to
be
at
school
earlier
than
your
brother,
or
two
of
the
kids
did
all
the
science
while
the
rest
horsed
around.
It
makes
you
wonder
what
the
rest
of
the
world
thinks
as
they
watch
our
TV
and
movies,
thinking
that's
what
life
is
really
like
in
America.
NYPD
and
The
Nanny
and
The
Apprentice
aren't
the
way
the
rest
of
us
live.
But
if
that's
the
only
thing
people
in
other
countries
see
about
our
lifestyle,
who
could
blame
them
for
wondering,
"How
come
we
don't
get
any?"
The
parable
sounds
as
if
faith
in
the
nick
of
time
gets
you
into
heaven
just
as
easily
as
if
you'd
worked
hard
at
righteousness
all
your
life.
What
if
the
real
world
worked
this
way?
The
fairness
of
equal
pay
for
equal
work,
an
honest
day's
pay
for
an
honest
day's
work
has
been
institutionalized
in
our
world.
Our
sense
of
order
is
justifiably
incensed
when
this
skin-of-the-teeth
thing
lets
off
the
people
who
haven't
worked
as
hard
as
we
have.
We've
burdened
ourselves
with
a
merit
system.
We
think
what
we
get
is
based
on
what
we
"deserve,"
and
what
we
have
and
the
rewards
we
earn
is
somehow
to
our
credit.
"Are
you
envious--?"
the
vineyard
owner
asks
the
full-day
workers.
Well,
duh!
Of
course
they
are!
While
they
watched
the
Johnny-come-latelys
rake
in
a
full
day's
pay
for
an
hour
of
work,
they
were
mentally
conjuring
the
extra
lamb
chop
they
could
have
for
supper
that
night.
No
one
was
denied,
cheated,
or
oppressed.
The
owner's
offense
is
in
generosity
to
others.
Fred
Craddock
says,
"The
offense
of
grace
is
not
in
the
treatment
we
receive
but
in
the
observation
that
others
are
getting
more
than
they
deserve.
.
.
.
Forgiveness
and
generosity
do
not
seem
fair
.
.
.
That
offends
some
of
us
.
.
.
The
generosity
of
God
quite
often
cuts
across
our
calculations
of
who
deserves
what."
That
came
to
mind
as
I
listened
to
Katrina
victims
right
after
the
hurricane.
They
were
mad
at
FEMA
and
everyone
else.
They
didn't
get
what
they
deserved!
They
were
devastated
by
flooding
and
filth
because
they
were
poor
and
had
no
way
to
get
out.
Sort
of
reminds
me
of
the
Israelites
in
the
wilderness
who
blamed
Moses
and
Aaron
for
their
hunger.
That
Israel
complained
wasn't
what
annoyed
God.
That
Israel
was
hungry
didn't
show
a
lack
of
faith.
Hunger
is
legitimate,
and
it
doesn't
seem
to
care
whether
or
not
you
are
faithful.
"Complaining"
is
not
stating
a
need
and
asking
God
for
help.
It
appears
that
Israel
preferred
complaining
about
their
hunger
to
trusting
God.
Israel
preferred
complaining
to
doing
the
hard
work
of
trusting
God.
It's
much
easier
to
point
fingers
and
blame
and
complain
about
the
rescue
efforts
after
Katrina,
than
it
is
to
say,
"We
didn't
plan
well.
The
storm
was
bigger
than
we
anticipated.
Our
resources
were
inadequate
to
the
need.
We
built
below
sea
level,
we
allowed
the
protective
wetlands
to
erode."
That's
a
lot
harder
to
say
than
complaining
and
blaming.
Sometimes
I
feel
like
I
harp
on
"transformation."
But
I
believe
transformation
is
the
fundamental
movement
of
redemption.
God
loves
us
where
we
are,
but
loves
us
too
much
to
leave
us
there.
That's
transformation.
Holy
change,
as
God
re-orders
the
realities
within
us.
If
God's
grace
is
offensive
to
us-if
it
offends
us
when
God
is
generous
to
others,
if
we
are
afraid
that
if
God
is
generous
to
others
it
means
we
don't
get
what
we
deserve-then
that
means
we
still
need
transformation.
My
dad
used
to
tell
us
kids
that
we
ought
to
be
grateful
we
don't
get
what
we
deserve.
He
made
it
sound
as
if
what
we
deserved
was
pretty
ominous.
But
that's
not
the
case
in
the
economy
of
God's
salvation.
God
is
about
abundance.
Toward
us.
Not
compared
to
others,
but
in
terms
of
more-than-enough-of-what-I-need.
If
we
wonder
what
direction
God's
transformation
might
take
for
us,
if
we
wonder
what
God
might
have
in
mind
for
our
re-ordering,
we
might
consider
what
it
is
that
offends
us
about
God's
grace.
Our
mindset
is
scarcity.
We
are
so
competitive.
We
have
the
insane
notion
that
what
others
receive
is
that
much
less
available
for
us.
That
isn't
how
God
works.
God
knows
our
needs.
God
knows
our
"enough."
God
doesn't
make
people
hungry.
Hunger
isn't
the
problem.
It's
where
people
look
for
the
satisfaction.
One
of
my
lectionary
buddies
went
to
seminary
in
San
Francisco
in
the
midst
of
the
dot
com
boom.
She
said
that
one
of
the
results
of
the
economic
boom
in
Silicone
Valley
was
that
20-
and
30-somethings
were
sudden,
overnight
gazillionaires.
Which
depressed
a
lot
of
them.
"Is
this
it?"
they
wondered.
"Is
work
and
then
all
this
money
and
then
spending
it
and
consuming-is
this
the
meaning
of
life?"
For
some,
that
question
ended
in
hopelessness.
For
others,
that
question
ended
in
more
work
for
more
money
and
then
the
bust.
For
others,
that
question
resulted
in
a
search
for
God
and
faith.
Redemption
is
about
transformation.
Holy
change
from
being
sinners
to
being
citizens
of
God's
kingdom.
Holy
change
that
helps
us
see
that
if
God
chooses
to
be
gracious
to
people
we
wouldn't
in
a
thousand
years
choose
to
be
gracious
to-well,
that's
God's
prerogative.
In
my
dad's
view
of
the
world,
we
all
ought
to
be
grateful
we
don't
get
what
we
deserve.
Because
what
God
gives
us
is
so
much
more
than
that.