The owner of the vineyard came to the marketplace, the appropriate place to hire workers. He came there early in the morning, in the middle of the morning and at noon. He came again in mid-afternoon and even in the late afternoon to hire anyone who was still there. He combed through that place again and again and rightly knew that had anyone been there all day, he would have seen him on one of his frequent visits.
And yet, when he came in the late afternoon, he said to those who had come there only lately, “Why have you been standing here all day in the hot sun? Go you also to my vineyard”.
He asked them that question, even though he knew they had not been standing there all day. Perhaps they had slept in that morning, or had lounged about. Perhaps they had had a leisurely lunch somewhere, or a long coffee with friends and lazed through the afternoon. Then, fearing to come home without an explanation, they went to the marketplace, as if they had been available to hire themselves out. But, of course, who would hire anyone in the last hour, literally, of a workday? Since that would be highly unlikely, going to the marketplace at that hour would simply provide an excuse for why they had not worked at all. Such a person could then say to his wife, “I went to the marketplace, but no one hired me”. They were not overlooked by the householder – they simply weren’t there on his other visits.
When he comes late in the day, he asked them a question that granted them a dignity they did not deserve. He addressed them as if they had been searching for employment for a much longer time than they actually had.
What can this mean, except that, analogously, God knows that, deep within our souls we have been searching for Him all our lives, even though we have seemingly been avoiding doing just that. When we have been lazy or distracted or otherwise preoccupied, nevertheless, it was our deepest desire to seek God. And so, when He approaches us, He speaks to us as if we had been in the marketplace all day, waiting to be hired. He addresses us as if we had been actively seeking Him, searching for love, aspiring to goodness, open to grace. He says “Where have you been? Why are you not in my vineyard?” Without stripping us of our dignity, without humiliating us, He invites us to come, providing for us the proper context for our dialogue with Him. He alludes to His awareness of our deepest desire to be with Him.
When they came to the vineyard, the latecomers surely must have realized that there were many workers already there who had been hired much earlier. They must have realized that the owner of the vineyard had no real need to bring them in the last moment, but that he was seeking a pretext whereby he could be generous.
Indeed, when he put them first in line, and then gave them a full day’s wage, they must have been deeply affected by his kindness. He did not humiliate them by his judgment; he humbled them by his compassion.
By having the owner of the vineyard give the latecomers a full day’s wage, Christ implies that He has no restrictions, no limits to the love He wishes to give us, in spite of our sins. He wishes to supply us with the fullness of His friendship, a baptism into communion which is no less for the one who comes at the eleventh hour than for the one who has been in the vineyard all day.
The apparent injustice the early workers feel is because their heart is small, they cannot enjoy the paradox of those who have come late being welcomed into the same friendship which they have always enjoyed. It is a great mystery. They were invited to be members of the master’s vineyard from the beginning of their lives, early on in the day. All day long they knew their wage was coming; all day long they knew that they were welcomed and accepted, that they belonged. They were not suffering the tortures of the unemployed, those who had not found refuge, acceptance, security or purpose. They had found it early and retained it long. If they wish to perceive this as slavery and drudgery in the hot sun, as we sometimes tend to view our spiritual lives, it is up to them.
Our Gospel emphasizes that salvation is God’s gift to us, a generous gift more than we could earn, and an equal gift: everyone is given the same at the end. It also, with our Epistle, emphasizes our discipline and effort: an effort which will differ from person to person, some doing more, others less.
First and foremost, salvation is God’s gift in Christ simply out of His love. It is never what we could earn, and, as it is a generous heart which gives it, so also, it is only a humble and thankful heart which can receive it. The reward for us all is the same: life with God. The way to the reward is the same for all the redeemed; union with Christ who was obedient unto death to destroy death and break the power of sin, restoring us to communion with our Father. The reward offered is the same for all, the greatest and the least. Our striving for the reward differs for each.
This is likened to the work and discipline we undertake in Lent. But why do we undertake this? To earn the prize? No says St. Paul: rather to “keep under my body, and bring it into subjection.” Our labors do not earn salvation; they enable us to experience it.
The devils and idols which stand between us and God have no power of themselves to stop us. They are impotent against us by themselves. Christ destroyed their power. They have only as much power against us as we give them. That is why we ourselves must be subdued. This is why having come under God’s rule we then bring every aspect of our lives into union with Him.
The runner doesn’t have to pay for the prize, but if he does not train and compete, he will not receive it. Lent is the time we increase our effort; to strive to fast more, pray more and give more, so that we may more effectively experience the gift given.
We will each do so in our own capacity and according to our own effort, but the gift will be given to all at the end – the blessing of participation in the death and resurrection of our Lord and God and Savior – the gift of the grace of holy Baptism which vows we repeat at the Vigil, and the gift of His Body and Blood to nurture what He has implanted in us at our Baptism and which he seeks to bring to perfection in us. How close we approach that perfection lies greatly with us.