Welcome to Graceland

A sermon by The Rev. Keenan Kelsey
Noe Valley Ministry, Presbyterian Church (USA)
September 18, 2005

Texts:

Exodus 16:2-15, Matthew 20:1-16

IT'S A GOOD THING that today's text did not fall earlier in September--say Labor Day weekend. The moral of the story goes against most of the things you and I believe about capital and labor. Let's replay the story, placing it in more familiar territory. The grape harvest promised to be the best in several years. The vines were literally sagging beneath the weight of the grapes. Early one morning, Mr. Mondavi was watching the Weather Channel. (That's MTV for old folks, you know?) A storm front was moving this way, a front that would bring high wind, thunderstorms, and maybe even crop-damaging hail. Mr. Mondavi needed to bring in the harvest.

Well, just as they gather down on Caesar Chavez and Mission, day laborers also gather in the center of Napa. At 6 AM Mr. Mondavi had no problem hiring all the pickers he wanted, the strongest, the most fit. He promised to pay $40 for an honest day's work. Mr. Mondavi continued to monitor the Weather Channel. And throughout the day he made more trips to recruit more workers. At 4:00, he made one last trip downtown, and he found some folks still hanging around, willing to work in the vineyard. By 6 PM, with the storm clouds forming on the horizon, the owner looked with relief on the overflowing baskets of grapes, picked and ready for the wine press. He gave his foreman a stack of pay envelopes, instructing him to pay the 5 o'clock workers first.

When they opened their pay envelopes, the 5 o'clock workers were thrilled to find two crisp $20 bills AND a $5 bill too! Then the 3 o'clock workers were paid, and they also received $45, as did the noon workers and the 9 AM crew. By the time the foreman got around to the 6 AM workers, the ones who had been sweating in the hot sun for about 10 hours, they had been doing some mental arithmetic. They figured that if those who had only worked part of the day got a $5 bonus, they should get an even bigger bonus! Imagine their disappointment when they discovered that they, too, had received $45. "What a rip-off!" they grumbled.

Mr. Mondavi exploded "Did you or did you not agree to work for me for $40 a day? Well, that's the same agreement I made with all these other folks, too. I haven't cheated you. Can I not be generous if I want to? Take your money and go home."

Doesn't it seem odd that this story of an amazingly generous boss ends, not with everyone singing and dancing for joy, but complaining: "It's just not fair, I tell you! I worked harder than they did. I deserve more!"

Isn't it curious how grace doesn't feel so gracious when we have to share it with someone else - especially if it's someone we don't think is deserving! God's grace is amazing, the way it encompasses everyone, welcomes everyone, forgives everyone, and loves everyone. But grace can also be exasperating. An unmerited benevolence, the break you get when you don't deserve it - these are causes for rejoicing and gratitude when they come our way. But they are causes for envy, discomfort, grumbling when someone else gets it.

Built into the heart of the gospel is a kind of effusiveness, a sort of extravagance that refuses to be calculated. As Jesus said on one occasion, God makes the sun to shine on the good and the bad, and the rain to fall on the just and the unjust. But it's often hard. Methodist founder John Wesley, wrote to a friend, "There is no more repugnant Christian doctrine than the affirmation that we are saved by the grace of God through faith."

How can I explain grace to you? Grace is never fair. It's generous. It is God's way of skirting what we want, and offering what we need: Grace is the vehicle for meeting our needs, not our greeds. Grace is Divine love and protection bestowed freely on people - not arbitrarily, but according to criteria which we, with human sight and selfish aim, with the dreariness of human legal quid pro quo, cannot comprehend.

On the TV show Joan of Arcadia, grace is defined as "a touch of truth that lets you see the world in a new way; it's a gift that can only be felt when you're open enough to accept it."

In her book, Wouldn't Take Nothing for My Journey Now, Maya Angelou paints the scene like this: "I draw the picture of the wealthy couple standing in a darkened hallway, peering into a lighted room where Black servants were lifting their voices in merriment and camaraderie, and I realize that living well is an art which can be developed. Of course, you will need the basic talents to build upon: They are a love of life and ability to take great pleasure from small offerings, an assurance that the world owes you nothing and that every gift is exactly that, a gift."

And perhaps most pointed, Strong's Greek Dictionary defines grace as "the divine influence upon the heart and its reflection in the life." Influence and reflection...here is a new twist, we are expected not only to receive but to reflect, to offer, God's grace.

I think that the hardest lesson we have to learn, the most peculiar lack of logic in Christianity, is that we do not work hard to get to heaven - we work hard because we realize we are already in heaven, we are part of the kin-dom of God here and now, and it is ours not only to accept, to herald it, to proclaim it, but also live into it. We are not only to rejoice in the grace seen in the lives of others, we are to work hard in this vineyard, this lifetime, to pass it on, to be agents of Grace on God's behalf.

How do we do this? The first step is to recognize and avoid envy. Have you ever noticed that we are perfectly content with what we have--until we compare what we have with what someone else has?

It is hard to accept that others have it better than we do, that God's grace seems to flow to them, not to us. Somewhere, someone will always be disgruntled. Consider a company who chartered a cruise for its top sales people. Soon after boarding, one of the more competitive ones complained "My friend has a much better cabin!" the salesman said. "I did as good a job as he did and I want a cabin just like his." "Sir," the officer replied, "The cabins are identical." "Yeah," said the man, "but his cabin looks out on the ocean and my cabin looks out on this dirty old dock."

The second step is with compassion -- a useful bottom line by which to evaluate any religion,- any theology,- any spirituality. Compassion for our fellow humans, regardless of where they are, who they might be, what they might do or how they express their faith. Or lack of it. Unlimited, unqualified compassion.

This often comes out of the most unexpected people in times of emergencies. God was not in the hurricane that devastated the Gulf States, or in the twisted minds that flew those airplanes into the twin towers of New York. But God is there in the hearts of those who came to help simply because help was needed. Thousands of people, most of them unnoticed and unnamed.

Nor is God in the AIDS epidemic that is devastating so much of Africa. Or the famine that is killing more third-world children every day than died in New York or New Orleans. But God is there in the hearts of women and men who reach out to the hurting people - reach out in love and compassion. My brother, in the midst of rescue efforts in Houston, told me that the response is classless. It is all for one. It is full of grace.

And then there is trust. We can only accept grace, for ourselves and others, and give grace, when we trust God. In the same way as the manna appeared for the Israelites, God sometimes lets our blessings trickle to us drop by drop, instead of pouring them in a flood all at once upon us, allowing us to taste the peace and strength of continuous dependence and the joy of continuous receiving.

Manna is God's gift, God's promise - the very grace we've been talking about. When we face the wilderness, we learn to rely on God for bread in the morning and meat at twilight. We gather it every day, when we arise in the morning. It may not look like anything we expected. It may not even vaguely resemble what we wanted. It may not look like what we need.

But even when we ask, "What is it?" there is holy manna on the ground. In our wilderness, God is with us. In our wilderness, God is still God. In our wilderness, God provides. In the wilderness of a down-sizing, God is with us -- Manna may come in the form of new career horizons, new dreams for our future. In the wilderness of a home in which ice cubes are what's for dinner, Manna may come with the face of Christian community, other adults who offer love and guidance and care. In the wilderness of a hurricane Manna may rain down in an outpouring of generous hearts and open arms that looks like clean clothes, hot food, and a place to stay. In the wilderness of a call to ministry in our mid-40s, Manna may be more like a hard deep call to obedience, gathered piece by piece in a basket woven with tears and longing for home.

God provides manna every day. It is enough. It will be enough. All will be filled And there will be enough tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow.

Welcome to Graceland. Amen