This is my homily for yesterday, the 25th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle A. The readings for that weekend are here.
This parable of the landowner and the wages he pays his worker has puzzled me for years. Everyone works different hours, but comes away with the same wages. What is Jesus trying to tell us?
What I'd like to focus on this evening are the emotions being expressed.
Emotion enters into this story when the first-hired workers complain. Their perception is that the landowner’s wages are unfair: these workers think they should be paid more than those who worked only an hour or two. And let’s be honest: as they gripe, we might find ourselves nodding in agreement. Because at first glance, the wage arrangement may strike us as unfair, too. We've been taught to expect that a person who works more hours, should be paid more. But our thoughts are not God's thoughts.
Still, the initial perception is: the wages are unfair. That perception of unfairness brings us to the emotion I want to talk about this evening: resentment. Unfairness breeds resentment.
Resentment isn’t always bad, and it doesn’t always lead to bad outcomes, but there are circumstances in which resentment can be a spiritual problem. It can even breed sin. Resentment can hold us back and cause us to hurt ourselves and others. Sometimes, resentment can be an obstacle to our drawing closer to Jesus. There are times when, in order to follow Jesus, we have to find a way to let go of our resentment.
If you’ve ever seen the Disney animated feature, “The Lion King”, you’ve seen negative resentment. Scar the lion is the brother of Mufasa, the king of Pride Rock. Scar is ambitious to be king himself, but Mufasa and his son Simba are in his way. Scar’s poisonous resentment of his brother and nephew is the primal sin that unleashes all the troubles and conflicts in that movie. Scar tries to have them both killed. That’s the sin of resentment., at work on a grand level.
“The Lion King” is fictional, but real people become resentful in real life, too. I suppose all of us have felt resentful at one time or another in our lives: perhaps many times. I have four sisters, and when we were growing up, one happened to be prettier than the others. Do you think the other sisters resented her beauty? You’d better believe it. Spouses can feel resentful of one another, as when one spouse’s career starts to take off while the other’s seems to be stalled.
Resentment is very common on sports teams. I’m told that, when the Chicago Bulls drafted Michael Jordan in the 1984 draft, the other players on the team didn’t exactly welcome him with open arms; at least some of them resented his obvious talent. Jordan himself wasn’t immune to resentment, either. His resentment of Magic Johnson and Isaiah Thomas, who won championships before he did, is legendary. In fact, Jordan’s drive to excel is said to have been fueled by resentment; he’d actively search for things to be resentful about, because they would motivate him to high achievement.
When we allow ourselves to stew in our resentment, it can become spiritually problematic. Resentment is directed at others, but it can harm us. The Catholic moral tradition is well aware of the spiritual danger of resentment. St. Augustine had a trenchant observation: “Resentment is like drinking poison, and waiting for the other person to die.” When we wishing harm upon others because of our resentment of them, spiritually we harm ourselves. In a word: resentment can be sinful.
God calls us to a different and better way. Rather than wallowing in bitterness over our own misfortunes, we must learn to let go of our resentment, and try to rejoice in the good fortune of others. That is the landowner’s point in today’s Gospel parable: he is telling the resentful workers, “Hey, I’m not cheating you; I’m being amazingly generous to those who, unlike you, weren’t fortunate enough to be in the place where I could hire them at the beginning of the day. So instead of stewing about your own pay, which was completely fair, rejoice instead that these others got such a fortunate break.”
If someone else gets a promotion at work that I covet, the human thing to do would be to resent everyone involved in the selection process. But that is precisely what we must not do. If I don’t get promoted, I’m still employed and presumably still valued for the work I’m doing. As for my co-worker who got the job I wanted: I should congratulate her. Even more, I should acknowledge that she has gifts that will help the team and the company in this new position, and I should rejoice that both she and the company will flourish with her in this new role. In short: I need to let go of my resentments, and rejoice in her good fortune.
This approach of generosity toward the good fortune of others doesn’t come naturally to most of us. We need to work at it. There will be times when we fail. But it’s not impossible. And God will help us.
If I may, let me offer some spiritual advice, as much to myself as to others here tonight.
First of all, let’s do a very brief examination of conscience: who do I resent in my life at the moment? For what do I resent him or her?
Second, if I have resentments toward others which I have been nurturing, such that they’ve become poisonous to me or to my relationship with another, then – that is an excellent sin to bring into the confessional. Make a point of bringing it to a priest in the sacrament of reconciliation, and ask God through the priest to help you heal of the sin of resentment.
Third, for right here and now: tonight, as the gifts are brought to the altar, let us spiritually offer up to God the pain and humiliation that underlie the resentments we feel toward others in our lives. Jesus takes our suffering upon himself, and pours forth from the wounds of the cross, healing and forgiveness. Let our resentments be washed away by the blood of Christ, and may our ability to rejoice in the good fortune of others be strengthened by the nourishment we receive from Christ’s body tonight.
Jesus told his disciples this parable: "The kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out at dawn to hire laborers for his vineyard.
ReplyDeleteAs one priest remarked, this is a parable about God's ways not about economic justice. "For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
nor are your ways my ways, says the LORD." In other words, life is basically unfair. However, sometimes other people can be economically unjust to us.
The priest connected this Sunday's Gospel with last Sunday's and with the parable of the prodigal son which are all about mercy. We should not be resentful when God is merciful to others, rather like God we should become merciful to others, even when they don't appear to have deserved it.
Jack - yes, I also saw the connection with the Prodigal Son (specifically the resentful older brother), and in fact tried to make that explicit in an earlier draft of the homily. But I cut it because it was becoming way too long :-).
DeleteI think resentment has a lot to do with our toxic politics. A lot of people are sure someone else is getting an unfair advantage. Particularly with social safety net issues. I know some people who have a loved one who had a hard time accessing disability benefits, even though they had a good reason for it. "it's because of all the people who are slackers and just don't want to work." But they don't stop to consider that not all disabling conditions are visible. It's like when we see someone in a handicapped parking place who isn't on crutches or in a wheelchair. There's a lot we don't know about their condition. Or they see someone with an EBT card at the grocery store. Instead of being thankful that they don't need that benefit, they resent someone who does.
ReplyDeleteThere were near brain dead individuals who were promoted 15 years before I got that grade. I was a bit cynical but resentment takes up too much space. Instead of calibrating my output relative to the flat tires, I did my job which was 50% fun anyway. I was being paid well nonetheless. Others who did less were paid more but engineering is about having a good time. Maybe, if I were married with children, it would've bothered me more.
ReplyDelete