It's Not Fair

Lectionary 25 (Year A)

September 20, 2026

Preaching Text: Matthew 20:1-16 (used own translation, see below)

Bulletin: 17th Sunday After Pentecost

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Matthew 20:1-16 (Pastor Alex's Translation)

For the kingdom of heaven is like a person – a householder – who went at once in the morning to hire workers for his vineyard. And finding harmony among the workers for the denarius of the day, then he sent them into his field.

And when he went out around the third hour – around 9 o'clock, he saw others standing in the marketplace without work. And, to them, he said, "You also go into the vineyard, and whatever is just, I will give to you." And they departed.

Again, when he went out around the sixth hour – about noon – and around the ninth hour – about 3 o'clock, he did likewise. And around the eleventh hour, five o'clock, having gone out yet again, he found others standing and said to them, "Why have you been standing here without work the whole day?" They said to him, "Because no one has hired us." He said to them, "You also go into the vineyard."

When evening came, the Lord of the vineyard said to his manager, "Call the workers and pay their wages, starting with the last and going to the first." When those hired at the eleventh hour came, they each received the denarius. And when the first came they thought that they would receive more. And yet, each of them also received the denarius. And having received it, they grumbled against the householder saying, "These last ones worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the weight of the day and the burning heat."

But he replied to one of them, "Friend, I am not unjust to you. Were you not in harmony with me about the denarius? Take up what belongs to you and go. I choose to give to these last ones the same as to you. Is it not right that I do what I wish with what is mine? Or is your eye evil because I am good?" Thus the last will be first and the first will be last.

"It's not fair!" One of the most dreaded phrases adults hear from the kiddos in our lives.

As a twin, I have always had an eye for fairness. I think most kids do. But when siblings are different ages, there are at least plausible excuses for differences. She's older, so she gets to ride bikes with her friends without Mom or Dad. He's younger, so he gets picked up on the walk and his sister has to keep walking. There's a rough logic to it, even when it stings, even when it feels terribly unfair. (And I know, there are the feelings of unfairness when younger siblings get things at ages earlier than their older siblings too. I get it.)

With twins, everything has to be the same. My Dad's mom would buy the same outfit in different colors, blue for him and pink for me (thank GOD my parents were NOT into dressing us alike, and we only had to wear them when we saw her. No judgment to families who are into that. But my brother and I definitely were NOT).

I played high school tennis, starting my freshman year of High School. It was the only sport that didn't have try outs, and I thought I should play a sport. I ended up loving it and being a pretty good player by my senior year. But the thing about tennis matches is that they can go on for an indeterminate amount of time. There aren't timed halves or quarters. A set and a match take as long as they take.

Sometimes, if we were getting our butts kicked, we might be headed home by 6. Other nights, it might not be til 8. The original plan was for my brother, Zach, and me to get cell phones at 16. But mom was tired of me borrowing hers on match days so I could let them know when I was on the way home. Even though I arguably "needed" it more, we both got our first cell phones that Christmas. We got the same thing.

And this kind of thing played out again and again with us. Every birthday, every Christmas, Mom made sure that there were the same number of presents from Mom and Dad, and roughly the same money spent — usually within a few dollars. This was before I could just hop on the interwebs and price check something (not that as an adult I have any desire to do that). But in theory that's possible today. It wasn't when I was a kid. I had no way of knowing if she would have spent $20 more on Zach than on me. But Mom wanted everything to be fair. And the same. And that there was no way to keep score and come out ahead. No competition for Mom and Dad's love. None of the Mom loves me more. And Dad loves you more. Nothing like that. This sameness equals fairness.

So I'll admit. I have a love-hate relationship with this passage. I sympathize with the ones who went to work in the fields early. I bristle at the unfairness of it. Twelve hours in the scorching heat, and the ones who showed up at 5 o'clock get the same denarius. It isn't fair. Of course, it isn't.

If you notice, the landowner never pretends that it is fair. His response is a nice way of saying, "well, life isn't fair." Or perhaps better, the kingdom of heaven isn't fair. Is your eye evil because I am good? Such an odd phrase in our modern language – but it points to an eye looking at the wrong thing and being angry about it.

I've always had this eye for fairness. But what if that's not where Jesus wants my eyes to look? What if I had an eye for justice? Or an eye for God's generosity and abundance?

This parable doesn't come out of nowhere. Just before it, Peter says to Jesus something like: Look, we have left everything and followed you. What then will we have? A few verses after it, the mother of James and John kneels in front of Jesus and asks him to seat her sons at his right hand and his left. On both sides of this story, the disciples are asking the same question. Who gets what? Who is greatest? Who is first? Who gets a special place?

And on both sides, Jesus gives the same answer. The last will be first, and the first will be last. So this is a parable about the kingdom of heaven. It's about who gets what when God is the one handing it out. It is about how this world should be. And it is about how life with God is.

Every Sunday we pray, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. We pray that this world becomes like the kingdom of heaven. In the next breath we pray, give us this day our daily bread. Those two things come side by side.

A denarius was a day's wage. Enough to put bread on the table tonight. It's not a windfall. It's supper. The landowner keeps going back to the marketplace. He goes at dawn, at nine, at noon, and at three. Then he goes at five o'clock, one hour before quitting time, for the ones nobody picked all day. And when the day is done, every one of them goes home with enough to eat.

That's what the kingdom looks like. Not everyone getting what they earned. Everyone getting what they need. Daily bread, whether you worked twelve hours or one.

Our world doesn't look like that or work like that. We know it doesn't. Some people have more than they could spend in thousands of lifetimes, and too many people don't know where supper is coming from tonight. The massive disparities between rich and poor just seem to be getting worse. This year, the world saw its first trillionaire. In 2025, S&P 500 CEOs made an average of $22.8 million per year. That's 312 times the wage of the median worker in the same year. Most of those CEOs make more in a single day than a typical worker makes all year. And most working adults on SNAP work full time and still earn so little that they can't reliably put food on the table. And while it is easy to point out the wealth disparities, if I'm honest with myself, I have more than what I need. The kingdom isn't here yet. But we pray for the kingdom to come and for all to have their daily bread. For all to have what they need. And for the disparities to close. And we are called to work alongside God in that.

So this parable is about this world, AND it is about the life to come. Someone comes to faith on their deathbed. The last hour of the last day. They have a place in the kingdom of heaven. And their place is no better and no worse than the place of the woman who sat in the same pew for eighty years. She taught Sunday school. She made the funeral lunches. She never missed a Lenten service. And yet, she gets the same as someone coming to faith in their last hour.

Some of us have been in the vineyard since dawn. And this message is hard for us. I'm one of them; I was baptized as a baby. I've been regularly attending church since I was 4 years old. And well, I've devoted my life to this work. For better and for worse. With all the joys and sorrows that come with this kind of life. And I wonder if some part of me wants that to count for something. If part of me wants God to notice I've been here since six AM. It's NOT fair. But God isn't fair.

The pastor I grew up with, Pastor Anne-Rose Reeves, used to say that if there's a hell, God will not be satisfied until every last soul is brought up out of the depths of it. God will not rest until every one of God's people is brought into the fold. And the last one out of the depths of hell will have the same place as the first one at the pearly gates. That one is made equal to the first one.

It's not fair. But it is just. It is what was promised to us when we started following Jesus – to be wrapped in the loving embrace of a God who is merciful and generous. A life to the end of the age that links us forever with the love of God made known in Jesus. A life stronger than death. That's mercy. Wild, extravagant, unfair mercy.

The grumblers are right. They did work twelve hours. They did bear the scorching heat. The landowner doesn't dispute a word of it. He says: "Friend, I am not unjust to you…Take up what belongs to you and go. I choose to give to these last ones the same as to you." We have faith in Jesus; we get to take up the gifts of God. We get to be in harmony with God, as we put on Christ, to borrow from Luther.

I intended the story about my mom to just start us off with a laugh. But the more I thought about it this week, the more I saw a reflection in how God works. She made sure there was no way to keep score and come out ahead. There were the same number of presents. The same phone. Nobody was loved more than another.

God's denarius – the daily bread – is somewhat like that. With God. Everyone gets the same. No one gets more. No one gets less. We get what we need. There's no better seat for the ones that come early or a worse seat with the ones who come late. There's no way to keep score with God and come out ahead. Thank God for that because none of us can earn the goodness of God's grace and love and mercy. God's gifts are for the undeserving. None of us live up to the hopes and dreams of God all the time, or maybe even most of the time. We are sinners made saints by the grace and mercy of God, accepted and held onto by faith.

There is one difference. Mom counted, down to the dollar. When I preached this this weekend, I heard stories of others' moms counting down to the jellybean in the Easter baskets. And yet, we have a God that doesn't count. God just keeps going back to the marketplace, ever widening the kingdom of God.

So have an eye toward God's justice and mercy and generosity. Take up the grace and love and forgiveness that belongs to you. Look for the signs of the kingdom breaking in. Look at the table. Everybody has a place. And everybody gets fed.

Thanks be to God. Amen.