Lectionary 25A

Matthew 20:1-16

Let us pray.

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen.

 

I started teaching a Bible study on parables last week, just as the lectionary started featuring parables in our gospel readings. The timing was fortunate because it reminded me that reading the parables is different from reading the early stories of our ancestors in faith in the Hebrew Bible, the narrative stories of Jesus’ ministry, or Paul’s letters to the different early Christian churches. 

 

Jesus was a master storyteller, but he didn’t teach in parables to entertain his audience. His stories invited his listeners to consider a new perspective about God and, in Matthew, the kingdom of heaven. He challenged what the people expected of a Messiah and Lord and used the parables to turn their expectations upside down.

 

People often have a favorite verse or story from Scripture. We love the stories of the prodigal son or the good Samaritan, but this parable from Matthew, popularly called the Laborers in the Vineyard is not a favorite. In fact, it’s often disliked. 

 

Because, among the Jewish people, the vineyard was a common metaphor for Israel, the simplest explanation of the parable equates the householder with God and the first set of laborers with the Jewish people and frames the whole parable in terms of who earns salvation and entrance into the kingdom of heaven.

 

Another aspect of the traditional interpretation centers on the laborers and the householder’s payment to them for their work. At the end of the day, regardless of when a laborer began working, each received a full day’s wage. And while the householder paid a fair wage and the agreed amount that they had set when he hired them, the laborers who had worked the most hours were outraged. 

 

I want to challenge some of the assumptions though. 

 

Often, parables tell a story that illustrates an aspect of who God is or what the kingdom of God is like. Other parables compare two things. But it’s helpful to remember that they are stories and illustrations, not historical events, and that while they often make comparisons, but they do not necessarily equate two things. (Luise Schottroff, The Parables of Jesus. 211)

 

In the same way, we can say a giraffe and a leopard are like one another because they have spots, 

but no one would mistake one for the other. 

 

The kingdom of heaven is given to us, not earned by us.

 

The late Episcopal priest Robert Farrar Capon (kay-pon) wrote that God demonstrates “a grace that works by raising the dead, not by rewarding the rewardable.” (Capon. Kingdom, Grace, Judgment. 395)

 

And Paula Gooder, an Anglican biblical scholar wrote that “Justice is not diminished by generosity.” (Gooder, The Parables. 44)

 

As we reflect on this parable, 

instead of focusing on salvation, fairness or even justice, 

I want to talk about generosity and about relationship.

 

In his response to the outraged laborers, the householder asks, “

“Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or are you envious because I am generous?”

 

New Testament scholar Luise Schottroff writes that “private property in the sense of [this verse] directly contradicts God’s Torah.” (Schottroff, 216) Her comment prompts me to listen again to the householder’s words.

 

In my hearing of the parable, I never thought to question the ownership of the vineyard. But if I take seriously the words of the psalmist who says in Psalm 24, 

“The earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it,

    the world, and those who live in it,”

 then how can any of us claim land is ours? 

Surely, we are only caretakers and stewards of what we hold and have.

 

And likewise, if all we have is given to us by the Lord, 

then it makes sense that we would be prayerful and careful in our care and sharing of what we have first been given. 

 

As many of you know, this is the time of year when you are asked to share from what you have first been given and commit to giving financially to the congregation for the coming year. 

You have heard ministry moments and testimonies for why others give, and between now and October 4, you’ll continue to hear inspiring stories and stories about the many ways your gifts sustain our work both within out congregation and in the community and world. 

If you have already offered your commitment for 2027, thank you, and if you haven’t, please do.

 

Today’s parable helps us remember that God entrusts us with care for ourselves and our households, care for our neighbors, community and world.

 

Understood this way, the parable invites us into the role of the householder, the one who looks out, 

not only for those who are readily available and visible, 

but also for those who may cross our paths later. 

 

The householder goes to the marketplace not just once or twice, but five times. The parable doesn’t actually tell us he needed more workers, but he hired more anyway. He didn’t wait for them to knock on his door. He sought them out and invited them into the vineyard. He begins a relationship with them and brings them into the community. 

 

Importantly, the parable never makes a qualitative judgment in favor of the first group or against the last group. (Amy-Jill Levine. The Short Stories of Jesus. 226) That has come from an inadequate translation of the Greek word agroi (ah-GROY) as ‘idle’ as if the laborers found later in the day were ‘lazy’, but the word is better translated as ‘without work’. The parable doesn’t tell us why they were “without work”. And whatever the reason, it didn’t change the householder’s response.

 

The householder’s generous welcome reminds us, as New Testament scholar Arland Hultgren wrote, “God saves us not because we are lovable, but because God is loving in a radical way.” (Hultgren, The Parables of Jesus. 43) We are called to love our neighbor with this same radical love.

 

Let us pray.

Generous and loving God,

Thank you for Your son Jesus who teaches us what love looks like.

Thank you for entrusting us with all that is Yours. 

Encourage us to see our neighbors and invite them into relationship. Show us how to be faithful and generous 

so that all will know Your love.

We pray in your Holy Name. 

Amen.

Lectionary 24A

I first preached this sermon in Spanish; the English translation is below. 

Mateo 18:21-35

Oremos.

Que las palabras de mi boca y las meditaciones de nuestros corazones sean gratas ante ti, oh Señor, nuestra roca y nuestro redentor. Amén.

 

Confieso que, siempre que el Evangelio describe el llanto y el crujir de dientes o la condena a esclavos a ser torturados,

cuando no termina con un acontecimiento esperanzador, como la sanidad o la restauración de una persona,

me cuestiono si es apropiado llamarlo «las Buenas Noticias». Pero recuerdo que, al igual que en el Viernes Santo, en este texto SÍ hay buenas noticias que escuchar debido a lo que Dios ha hecho.

 

Y nuestra tarea es buscar la acción de Dios.

 

Esa tarea choca con una explicación simple o esquemática de la parábola, en la que cada personaje representa algo o a alguien específico.

 

En la parábola que tenemos hoy,

al principio,

parece que el rey representa a Dios y el esclavo perdonado nos representa a todos nosotros. Pero esa teoría se desmorona al final de la parábola, cuando el rey revoca el perdón que había concedido y entrega al esclavo despiadado a los torturadores.

 

¡Seguramente, Dios no retira la promesa divina del perdón!

Así que volvamos al principio y resistamos la tentación de leer las parábolas buscando un significado único.

 

Lo que aprendemos acerca de Dios gracias a la conversación de Jesús con Pedro, justo antes de este pasaje, es que Dios no tiene un «límite para el perdón». (Capon, 190) Y lo que la parábola nos muestra es que el perdón de Dios es un don inmerecido —gracia— otorgado sin esperar arrepentimiento, reforma o respuesta alguna. (Capon, 190)

 

Nos cuesta creer que el perdón nos pertenece simplemente porque Dios nos ama tanto. Nos convencemos de que, sin duda, tenemos que hacer algo..

 

Pero el esclavo despiadado nunca le pide perdón al rey. Es probable que ni siquiera se le ocurra la posibilidad de recibir misericordia.

 

Lo único que reconoce es que no puede pagar su deuda y pide paciencia para disponer de más tiempo y así pagarlo que debe. Dado que Mateo menciona la cifra fantástica de diez mil talentos —equivalente a más de seis mil denarios, o al salario de sesenta millones de días de trabajo—, sabemos que al esclavo le habría sido imposible vivir y trabajar lo suficiente para liquidar la deuda. Sin embargo, posponer lo inevitable parece ser su única opción.

 

Y entonces, el rey hace algo totalmente inesperado: perdona la deuda, borrándola por completo y liberando al siervo de su carga. 

 

El rey deja a un lado su contabilidad y cierra su libro de cuentas, con sus columnas de sumas y cifras. En efecto, muere a una vida transaccional regida por deudas y pagos; y en su lugar, elige invertir en una relación y ofrecer una transformación.

 

No llegamos a ver la reacción del esclavo. Mateo solo nos dice que «salió». Quizás estaba abrumado, o tal vez distraído o preocupado.

 

Al leer esta parábola, me pregunto:

 

«¿En qué momentos de mi vida he estado demasiado ocupada o preocupada como para reconocer cuándo he recibido gracia?» y

 

«¿Cuándo he pasado por alto o minimizado la magnitud de la gracia de Dios para mi?» 

 

Mateo nos cuenta que cuando salió el esclavo se encontró con otro que le debía una pequeña suma. 

 

Pero en lugar de mostrar misericordia y ofrecer el perdón que él mismo acababa de recibir, agredió y amenazó a aquel hombre.

 

Aquel esclavo despiadado no fue transformado por el perdón y la misericordia que había recibido. Y en vez de reflejar la gracia que se le había otorgado y elegir una vida fundamentada en el perdón, optó por la venganza y el castigo. Eligió caminos que producen muerte en lugar de caminos que dan vida.

 

Hay más personajes que analizar al reflexionar sobre esta parábola, pero hoy quiero centrarme en estos dos.

 

Poco después de que el esclavo despiadado amenazara al otro, unos testigos informan al rey de su comportamiento. El rey también vuelve a sus viejas costumbres y retoma su papel de cobrador de deudas. Enfurecido por la maldad del siervo, el rey cancela su perdón que le había concedido y lo entrega para que sea torturado. 

 

En lugar de comparar al rey con Dios para ver en qué se parecen, la parábola nos invita primero a notar como Dios es diferente. (Schottroff, 203)

 

«El perdón humano nunca es perfecto». (Hultgren, 29) Pero, a diferencia del rey de la parábola, ¡Dios no retira su misericordia! Dios, en Jesucristo, elimina nuestras deudas; estas son clavadas en la cruz y nosotros quedamos libres.

 

Al igual que el siervo despiadado, podemos elegir cómo responder a esta gracia. El perdón de Dios está a nuestro alcance: podemos vivir en su luz o elegir la muerte.

 

La segunda invitación consiste en vernos reflejados en la parábola. Es probable que nuestro lugar en ella cambie en distintos momentos de nuestras vidas; esa es una de las razones por las que leemos y releemos la Biblia.

 

Mientras seguimos reflexionando sobre esta historia, preguntémonos: 

¿Cuándo hemos necesitado el perdón?

¿Cuándo hemos recibido el perdón de manera inesperada?

¿Cuándo hemos tenido en nuestras manos el poder de perdonar?

¿Cuándo hemos querido negar la misericordia porque otra persona nos ha decepcionado o no ha estado a la altura de nuestras expectativas?

¿Cuándo hemos retenido la misericordia, olvidando cuánta misericordia hemos recibido ya?

 

Con estas preguntas presentes, oremos:

Dios misericordioso,

te damos gracias por tu amor inquebrantable y por la gracia que conocemos a través de tu Hijo Jesús.

Ayúdanos a compartir siempre con generosidad la abundante misericordia que hemos recibido primero,

recordando tu amor por todos nosotros.

Concédenos sabiduría para reconocer tu obra en nuestras vidas y ser agradecidos.

Oramos en el nombre de Jesús.

Amén.

Matthew 18:21-35

 

I confess that whenever the Gospel describes weeping and the gnashing of teeth or condemning slaves to be tortured, 

when it doesn’t end with a hopeful event, like a person’s healing or restoration, 

I question calling it “the Good News”. But I remember, that like Good Friday, there IS good news to hear in this text because of what God has done.

 

And our task is to look for God’s action. 

 

That task is at odds with a simple or tidy explanation of the parable where each character represents something or someone specific. 

 

In the parable we have today, 

at the beginning, 

it seems like the king represents God and the forgiven slave represents all of us. But that theory falls apart at the end of the parable when the king revokes the forgiveness that he had shown and hands the unmerciful slave to the torturers.

 

Surely, God doesn’t rescind the divine promise of forgiveness!

So, let’s go back to the beginning and resist the temptation to read the parables in search of a singular meaning.

 

What we learn about God from Jesus’ conversation with Peter just before this is that “God doesn’t have a “cutoff point for forgiveness.” (Capon, 190) And what the parable shows us is that God’s forgiveness is unmerited gift – grace – given without waiting for repentance, reform or response. (Capon, 190) 

 

We struggle to believe that forgiveness is ours because God loves us so. We convince ourselves that surely, we have to do something.

 

But the unmerciful slave never asks the king for forgiveness. The possibility of mercy probably doesn’t even occur to him. 

 

He only names that he cannot pay his debt and asks for patience so that he can have more time to pay what he owes. Because Matthew includes the fantastic sum of ten thousand talents – the equivalent of more than six thousand denarii or wages for sixty million days of labor – we know that the slave could not possibly live and work long enough to settle the debt. But postponing the inevitable appears to be his only option.

 

And then the king does something completely unexpected. He forgives the debt, erasing it and freeing the slave from its burden. 

 

The king abandons his bookkeeping, closing his ledger with its columns of sums and figures. Effectively, he dies to a transactional life ruled by debts and payments, and instead, he chooses to invest in a relationship and offer transformation.

 

We don’t get to witness the slave’s reaction. Matthew only tells his that “he went out.” Maybe he was overwhelmed, or perhaps he was distracted or worried. 

 

As I read this parable, I wonder, 

“When in my own life have I been too busy, or worried, to recognize when I’ve received grace?” and 

“When have I overlooked or minimized the magnitude of God’s grace for me?”

 

Matthew tells us that when the slave went out, he came upon another slave who owed him a small sum. But instead of being merciful, extending forgiveness like he had just received, he assaulted and threatened the man.

 

The unmerciful slave was unchanged by the forgiveness and mercy he had been given. And instead of mirroring the grace he’d been given and choosing a life grounded in forgiveness, he chose vengeance and retribution. He chose death-dealing ways over life-giving ones.

 

There are more characters to examine as we reflect on this parable, but for today I want to stay with these two.

 

Shortly after the unmerciful slave threatens the other slave, onlookers report his behavior to the king. And the king falls back into his old habits as well, resuming his role as a debt collector. Angered by the unmerciful slave’s malice, the king cancels his forgiveness of the man’s debt and hands him over to be tortured. 

 

Instead of comparing the king and God and finding how they are similar, the parable invites us first to notice how God is different. (Schottroff, 203) 

 

“Human forgiveness is never perfect.” (Hultgren, 29) But unlike the king in the parable, God does not withdraw God’s mercy! God, in Jesus Christ, takes away our debts; they are nailed to the cross and we are set free. 

 

Like the unmerciful servant, we get to choose how we respond to this grace. God’s forgiveness is here for us, and we can live in its light, or we can choose death.

 

The second invitation is to see ourselves in the parable. Our place likely changes at different times in our lives, which is one of the reasons we read and reread the Bible. 

 

As we continue to think about this story, let’s ask:

When have we needed forgiveness?

When have we been forgiven unexpectedly?

When have we held the power of forgiveness?

When have we wanted to revoke mercy because another person has disappointed us or fallen short of our expectations?

When have we withheld mercy, forgetting how much mercy we have received already?

 

Holding those questions lightly, let us pray:

Merciful God, 

Thank you for your steadfast love and the grace that we know through your Son Jesus.

Help us always share generously from the abundant mercy we have first received,

remembering your love for us all.

Give us wisdom that we might notice your actions in our lives for us and be thankful.

We pray in Jesus’ name. 

Amen.