The parable of the workers

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One summer morning at dawn, a vineyard owner went out to the town square where he knew he’d find people looking for work. 

They probably weren’t much different from day laborers who line up along roadsides today—hoping for a job that will get them through another day, another week. Living precarious lives. Knowing from experience that they might work hard all day and still be cheated at the end of it. The landowner hired a lucky few and sent them into the vineyard. He agreed to pay them the normal daily wage. So far so good. An ordinary day in harvest season.

But then things got weird. As the day went on, the landowner went back to the square, at nine and noon and 3pm, and each time he hired more workers. He hired the last group at 5pm, not long before sunset. Eleven hours after sunrise, at the eleventh hour. Did you know that this parable is probably where that phrase comes from? Why did he even bother so late in the day? 

When it came time to settle accounts, the landowner did something surprising. He paid the last group a full day’s wage. What a relief that must have been to workers who had spent most of the day worrying that they’d have no income at all. 

And those who had worked all day? They started to think that they’d hit the jackpot. How much more might they get? But when their turn came, they weren’t paid any more than the late arrivals. And they were furious. Of course they were furious. It wasn’t fair, was it? 

But the landowner said to one of them, “‘Friend, I am doing you no wrong; did you not agree with me for the usual daily wage? Take what belongs to you and go; I choose to give to this last the same as I give to you. Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or are you envious because I am generous?’ So the last will be first, and the first will be last.”

A number of years ago, I worked for a while in a short-term job where I was paid by the hour. The work was tedious, so I listened to audio books during the day. On one particular day, I was listening to a recording of James Earl Jones reading the Bible. 

That morning, we were told that those who finished the day’s work first would be assigned to a new project. I wanted to be in that group, so I worked fast, and I finished a day’s worth of work in four hours. But when I told the project manager that I was done, she told me that they weren’t ready to start the new project yet and that I should go home for the day. 

Oh, I was mad. I’d done a full day’s work and would only be paid for four hours, while those who worked more slowly would be paid for the full day. It was outrageous. Unfair. 

Do you see where this is going? 

I went back to my desk to do some final paperwork, and I put my headphones back on, fuming. And, almost immediately, the voice of James Earl Jones read to me the parable of the workers in the vineyard. I made what I’m sure was a remarkably unattractive sound, half laugh, half snort, and my anger disappeared. It was as if Jesus were talking directly to me. An hourly rate was what I signed up for, yes, and that was part of it. I wasn’t being cheated. But it wasn’t just that. The parable forced me to face an uncomfortable truth about myself – and I rather suspect, not just about myself.

When I hear the parable of the workers in the vineyard, I generally imagine myself as one of the workers hired at dawn. Like those workers, I’ve worked hard. And like those workers, I’m really good at seeing what’s owed to me, what I’ve earned, what I deserve. Like them, I often assume without much thought that a benefit that comes to another somehow hurts me, is unfair to me. Like them, I’m not nearly so good at seeing all that I’ve been given as I am at seeing what I’m owed.

I don’t use the word privilege very often. I don’t use the word even though the topic is important because I know that when someone tells me I’m privileged, I often hear it as an accusation. I reflexively assume that they’re saying that I’ve done something unfair, unjust. 

But this parable reminds me that that isn’t what privilege is all about. Privilege is much more about luck than it is about wrongdoing.

You often hear people say: I’ve worked hard. I’ve earned what I have. The workers who were hired at dawn said it. We’ve worked hard. We’ve borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat. We deserve more than those layabouts who rested in the shade all day. 

But here’s what the workers hired at dawn couldn’t see: Yes, they worked hard. But they were also lucky. Lucky if for no other reason than to have been in the group hired first. 

Why were they chosen? We don’t know. Maybe they were healthy and strong. Maybe they were in the right place at the right time. But they were chosen, and they spent the day without anxiety, knowing that they’d be paid at the end of it. They didn’t do anything wrong, and they did work hard, they earned their day’s pay. But they also didn’t do anything to earn their starting place in the race.

I’ve worked hard. But I was lucky to be born in this country and in this time. I couldn’t have done the things I’ve done in any other time or place. I was lucky to have parents who made sure I got a good education. I’m lucky to have a skin color and a way of speaking that mean I don’t face too many barriers. I was lucky to be born with talents and intelligence and good health. I didn’t earn my starting point any more than the workers hired at dawn earned theirs.

There is of course a purely spiritual way to understand the parable of the workers in the vineyard. God’s grace is available to early arrivals and late arrivals alike, and we don’t have to do anything to earn it. Grace isn’t fair, and that’s very good news for all of us.

But my own reaction to the parable makes me think that it might also have something to say to us about how we see one another, about how we understand what justice is, about what fairness is. 

It might remind us to notice the gifts we’ve been given, and not to worry so much that someone else might get something they didn’t earn. It might even remind us to have compassion, as the vineyard owner did, for those who get a late start.

Jesus said that in the kingdom of God, the last shall be first, the first shall be last.  In the kingdom of God, all is grace. Every time we pray the Lord’s prayer, we pray for that kingdom to come on earth—not just in heaven. 

I hope I mean it. I hope we all mean it. Whether we’re hired at dawn or at the end of the day.

Cover image: Portion of "Farm_workers_harvesting_cauliflower_in_California's_Salinas_Valley”, by Wikimedia user PAC55, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons.