Let’s face it, we live in a world, as my Mother used to say, a world of “tit for tat.” You hurt me; I’m supposed to hurt you back. You speak evil of a neighbor; that neighbor is expected to do the same and more to you. Tit for tat…now mind you, my Mom didn’t encourage that kind of retaliation, quite the opposite; but she was realistic enough to warn us that much of the world operated according to that principle.
Some of our laws even reflect this sort of equivalent retaliation: murderers are systematically killed, for example, apparently to teach them that killing is wrong. And when the deed is done—the switch is pulled or the poison administered—we justify our state’s abhorrent action by saying, “well, he (or she) got what they deserved…” Where, in such a world, are we able to see justice, when justice itself is often framed as “tit for tat?”…as getting what one deserved?
In our finer and nobler moments as humans, we have other ways of understanding justice. When thinking of human justice, I often picture the familiar sculpture named Lady Justice. You’ve seen her, no doubt. She stands in our century as a conflation of both Greek and Roman mythology. Lady Justice is mature, but not aged, beautifully robed with one foot resting on a large book. Intertwined around the book and her feet, a snake is often added, symbolizing the shedding of outer biases in the making of just decisions. Lady Justice holds in her left hand a set of scales, representing the impartiality with which justice must be served. In her right hand, she holds a sword, out of its sheath and ready to use, signifying the power that is held by those making decisions of justice.
The ancient goddesses upon which this human image of Lady Justice is founded are the Greek Themis and the Roman Justitia; they were known for their clear sightedness, and their ability to impose order or control over gatherings. In ancient days, Justitia and Themis served as Mothers of justice, of peace, and of lawful government. When we look at Lady Justice as a model, she helps us see human justice as balance, as weighing matters equally and fairly, and as being ready to fight, if need be, so that justice prevails.
Although Lady Justice is sometimes portrayed with a blindfold over her eyes, I prefer to see her without blindfold; the statues and sculptures of her without blindfold reveal her unobstructed steady and determined gaze. As an aside, The Office of the Curator of the US Supreme Court describes the placement of an un-blindfolded Lady Justice in a frieze at the back of the courtroom itself. There, where the Supreme Court justices can easily see her, Lady Justice is the central character in a sculptured piece of art that depicts the allegorical story of the battle of Good Versus Evil. As worded in the information pamphlet about this frieze, “her unencumbered gaze is set determinedly in the direction of the forces of Evil to her right. Her posture is defiant, as if ready to do battle to protect the forces of Good…”
Human justice, thus portrayed by Lady Justice, is one that sees wrong and seeks to correct it. This is not, friends, the kind of “tit for tat” that the world often parades as justice. Human justice at its best looks long and attentively in the direction of evil, and resolutely offers both her scale and her sword to eradicate evil’s effects. Further, human justice willingly sheds whatever confines her, so that her justice will be fair, balanced, and equitable.
Surprisingly, God’s justice is quite different.
God’s justice appears to be based, not on equality under the law, nor on fairness to all, certainly not on “tit for tat.” God’s justice seems based exclusively on grace…abundant, exuberant, never-ending grace and love for each and every person. We see God’s kind of justice dramatically pictured in both the Exodus story and the parable Jesus tells in the gospel lesson today, and we hear the psalmist instructing choirs of humans and angels to give thanks to God for such abundant justice daily.
Yet all is not sweetness and light in the world of God’s justice. Take the word “manna,” for example, from the Exodus story we ready today. Manna is familiar to most folks as a metaphor for any miraculous, happy gift—that proverbial “bread from heaven” raining down on us as an unforeseeable, but needed blessing. What a lovely image! Yes, lovely, until we start looking more carefully at the gritty circumstances and the barren wilderness in which this original manna fell. As one author notes, “In the throes of disappointment (not to mention the swooning force of the sun beating down on one’s head), mind and memory can play tricks on a person. In the case of Exodus 16, Egypt strangely transmogrifies from the ‘house of bondage and the land of death’ into some kind of Club Med” to which the Hebrews are anxious to return. What had been despised in their former lives as unjust slavery seemed to change in their minds into a place and a memory where at least there were 3 squares a day. Yet, it was into this gritty, real-life drama in the desert, that the so-called “manna” dropped from the sky—precisely into the whining, sandy, dirt-blown-in-your-faces stark environment that the unearned manna was given—and given abundantly!—by a gracious God.
We are not told how long the Hebrews ate this daily fare of manna, only that it sustained them, and that they came to see it for what it was: an undeserved gift from God. In his book Cadences of Home: Preaching Among Exiles, theologian and Hebrew scripture scholar Walt Brueggemann suggests a deeper interpretation of this manna dropping from heaven, noting that the source of our food has greater significance than we may at first imagine. Brueggemann asks, “what happens to our bodies [when we are hungry]?...On the one hand they take in food. We must eat. On the other hand the food that is eaten is transformed into loyalty, energy, work, and care. The one who provides the food we eat governs the loyalties we embrace.”
So in this particular story, we are not just talking about manna for manna’s sake. When we look up and see that bit of manna fall from the biblical sky, we are acknowledging that God is its source. Eating this food from God lays on us, as it did on the Hebrews, great expectations: will we trust in God’s care? Will we share with one another? Whom will we honor as the source of our food, and which power will receive our loyalty? Will we be Pharaoh’s people, or God’s? As Brueggemann warns, “we must pay attention to what we eat and to who feeds us.” Bruce Epperly, process theologian writing on this same passage, notes that when we perceive that it is God who is providing abundance in our lives, then “our hearts open, our stress diminishes and we reach out in acts of kindness and generosity.”
Which leads us to the gospel story of the morning; from one perspective, it’s a nice parable about how the generous landowner gives payment to all the workers…a symbol, like the Exodus story of manna from the sky, a symbol of God’s abundance raining down on us; from another perspective, this parable is a deeply disturbing story, maddening even.
You know the story as well as do I. A wealthy landowner has a vineyard that needs some work. So he travels to town to secure laborers, some of whom are hired in the early morning, others at 9:00 am, still others at noon, at 3:00 in the afternoon and at 5:00 in the evening. At the end of the workday, the eager laborers line up to receive their pay, starting with those last hired. The 5-o’clocker’s receive a full day’s pay for only an hour or two of work; you can imagine the anticipation of those hired early in the morning. According to Jesus’ words, they were certain they would receive even more than the landowner had originally offered them, for of course, they had worked much harder and hours longer than those who were hired at 5 o’clock. But as the wages are distributed, it becomes painfully apparent that the landowner and his manager are paying everyone the very same wage no matter what the timecards indicate. Not such a nice story anymore, is it? All is not well in the world of God’s justice, especially if you are among the group that worked the whole long day, and happen to define your justice by what is deserved or earned. Naturally, much complaining is heard—from the workers in the story and from us as hearers—for this action is not what we imagine as justice. There is no equality here, no balance in the scales. Rather, the scales of justice seemed tipped in favor of those who came late to the workday. We who are steeped in descriptions and images of human justice might feel righteously indignant if we were so ill-treated. And, in our distraction, we just might miss the point of Jesus’ story. Jesus’ point comes in waves with each passing question the landowner asks. “Friend, I am doing you no wrong; did you not agree with me for the usual daily wage? Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or are you envious because I am generous?” In this series of questions, the landowner does three things: 1) he holds the workers accountable to their original agreement; 2) he reminds them that the pay is his to give, and theirs to receive; and 3) he cuts to the core of their complaints, by admitting that his reason for giving to all equally is that he is generous to a fault.
Commentators are in agreement that Jesus is speaking in this parable about God’s extravagant generosity. I suggest to us today, that this story also touches on God’s sense of justice, justice which is based firmly in God’s extravagant generosity. In God’s realm, the mercy and grace of God often come to us in surprising ways, and sometimes, as in this parable today, God’s grace and God’s justice are perhaps even offensive. In God’s realm, people are valued not because of their economic productiveness, but because God loves them and engages them in life. That which initially appears in this parable to be an outrageous injustice is portrayed as the greatest justice of all—God’s justice that is motivated solely by mercy and by grace and meted out in countless ways to undeserving people.
Grace sometimes loses its cutting edge; it becomes domesticated, tamed into a kind of saccharin permissiveness which becomes unreal and irrelevant. Today’s stories jolt us out of that sentimentality with their vivid and even abrasive depiction of God’s grace and God’s justice. Divine grace, and thus divine justice, does not seem to rest on the merit system. This is most difficult for us to accept, and perhaps even disquieting for us to comprehend. No matter how much we might wish or pray or believe otherwise, God’s grace is for everyone, every one, equally.
As one commentary author directly states, each of these stories today “is an old, old story. Jonah sat on the brow of the hill outside Nineveh and pouted when God spared the city. The elder brother thought his father a doting old fool when his father invited him to join the celebrating at the prodigal brother’s return. The Pharisee at prayer thanks God that he is not like the sinful publican. Divine grace is a great equalizer which rips away presumed privilege and puts all recipients on a par. That’s hard to stomach when we have burdened ourselves with a merit system and want to see some reward for our labors. That’s hard to stomach when we discover those guilty of wrongs we have long opposed are brothers and sisters to whom the same divine generosity has been shown. Grace no longer seems so sentimental…”
Nor, I would add, does God’s justice. I believe we are seeing this extravagant justice of God—justice that is based not on merit but on grace, justice that abundantly rains down at the beginning of each day and is paid up at the end—this justice of God, I believe, is playing out on the national screen and in the theater of our own dear state of California with the issue of same-gender marriage.
At one time, in the not-too-distant-past, marriage was not about love, but was based in property rights and improving a man’s economic and political status. Under the law, women were considered chattel, property to be traded from father to husband. They were bartered to solidify inter-tribal relations and accompanied by large dowries to increase the new husband’s wealth—and thereby his political standing—in the community. If love happened, it was by chance, not by design. Such were the laws of marriage in many ancient cultures. Still, sadly and tragically for the women they enslave, in some countries the old ways prevail. Yet over the centuries, and with the helpful infusion of human justice, in an increasing number of heterosexual marriage agreements worldwide women have come to be seen as the equal partners they are today…showing a gradual and progressive movement from human justice toward God’s extravagant justice.
In the discussion of Proposition 8—the marriage equality proposition—I believe we see another step in the journey of justice. On November 4th voting day voters will decide whether it will be a step backward or forward. The proposition on marriage contains these 14 words: “Only marriage between a man and a woman is valid or recognized in California.” Biting words, stark in their exclusivity, and from the perspective of today’s two biblical stories, they bring us no closer to God’s extravagant justice. If passed, this proposition would amend the constitution of the state of California to eliminate the right of same-gender couples to marry by overturning the current legal practice of allowing marriage to any couple, regardless of gender, who present themselves for legal marriage. Ironically, these words would be placed in Article 1 of the State Constitution, directly between the state equal protection clause and nondiscrimination in business and the professions…yet for the first time in state history, inequality would now be cast in the stone of state constitutional law.
Advocates of the proposition argue that it is not about marriage, but about religious freedom, claiming that those who do not support equal marriage would be required to condone and to perform such ceremonies…hogwash! It is not their religious rights that would be compromised, but ours. If Proposition 8 passes, then we as a congregation would be forbidden to extend God’s extravagant justice to any couple, regardless of gender. As a pastor of the only Christian denomination which supports equal marriage, I would be legally prohibited from conducting such services for same-gender couples. I believe Proposition 8 is a direct hit to our extravagant welcome in the United Church of Christ and to God’s extravagant justice as portrayed in scripture.
For here in our stories today, we see a God who dishes out both grace and justice with abundant generosity! In the Exodus story, we see a God who lovingly listens to the grumbling stomachs of hungry people. This is a God who creatively finds a way to satisfy their hunger each day. This is a God who promises that there will be enough food for the journey, one day at a time. This is a God who delivers on that divine promise, even giving two days worth on the sixth day so that the seventh can be a true day of rest for God’s beloved children. Turning to the gospel story, we see a God who happily chooses workers for the vineyard. This is a God who attentively watches them work throughout the day. This is God who brings in recruits with fresh energy. This is a God who loves those recruits every bit as much as God loves those who have been in the fields since the early morning. This is a God who, finally, rewards each one with the same amount of abundant grace. This is a God whose idea of justice is that each laborer is given enough pay to come to the party and is invited to enjoy equally the generous presence of the master.
In these two biblical stories and in their accompanying psalm of thanksgiving we sang this morning, God’s exuberant justice is meted out to hungry, whiny desert wanderers through the daily gift of manna, even as it is seen in the paychecks of those imaginary workers in Jesus’ parable. The question of anyone being deserving is moot…the wandering Jews are hungry, and that it all that is needed to bring on the gift of God’s justice…the workers in the parable have worked diligently for promised pay, and that is all that is required in this exchange of services. And in our day, with respect to the very real issues of justice we ponder…there are couples who come later to the workday of marriage than some others, couples who are faithfully committed to one another upon whom God’s justice, with our votes, will remain an extravagant blessing. For with God as the judge, there is only grace, love, and an extravagant welcome to all, and that does mean ALL! That, my sisters and brothers, is what we each deserve!
