Twenty-Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A
September 20, 2026 – 10:30 AM
Saint Cecilia Catholic Community
Rev. David Justin Lynch
Isaiah 55:6–9 | Psalm 145:2–3, 8–9, 17–18
Philippians 1:20c–24, 27a | Matthew 20:1–16a
+In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, AMEN.
There is something about today’s Gospel that bothers almost everyone who hears it, particularly those of us who live in a meritocratic society.
Jesus tells us about a landowner who goes into the marketplace early in the morning and hires workers for his vineyard. He agrees to pay them the customary daily wage. Then he goes out again at nine o’clock, at noon, at three in the afternoon, and finally at five o’clock—just one hour before quitting time.
At sunset, everybody lines up to be paid.
And then comes the surprise.
The people who worked only one hour receive a full day’s wage. Naturally, the people who worked all day think, “Wonderful! If they received that much, imagine what we will receive.”
But they all receive exactly what they had agreed upon: one day’s wage. And they are furious.
We understand their complaint because most of us have been raised in a meritocracy. Work harder, accomplish more, produce more, and you ought to receive more. That principle has considerable value in organizing an economy. The problem comes when we imagine that God operates the same way.
In our Gospel reading today, Jesus gives us three things to consider.
First, God loves everyone equally: grace is not a meritocracy.
The workers who complain are not cheated. That is important.
The landowner says, “Friend, I am not cheating you. Did you not agree with me for the usual daily wage?”
Their problem is not injustice. Their problem is generosity toward somebody else.
They are not angry because they received too little. They are angry because somebody whom they consider less deserving received as much as they did. And suddenly this parable becomes uncomfortable, because people constantly construct rankings.
Who worked harder?
Who contributed more?
Who has been a Christian longer?
Who goes to church more often?
Who knows more Scripture?
Who obeyed more rules?
Who has committed fewer sins?
Who deserves to be closer to God?
But Jesus overturns the entire calculation.
God’s love is not a performance bonus.
The prophet Isaiah prepares us for precisely this reversal:
“For my thoughts are not your thoughts,nor are your ways my ways, says the LORD.”
Jewish commentators have often read Isaiah 55 not simply as saying that God is intellectually mysterious, but that God’s mercy operates differently from ordinary human calculations. Rabbi Rashi connects the passage with repentance: human courts may condemn the person who confesses guilt, whereas God receives the one who confesses and turns back with mercy. Rabbi Ibn Ezra similarly interprets the passage as assuring sinners that, contrary to their expectations, God intends to do good to the repentant.
That is exactly what happens in Jesus’ vineyard.
We calculate worthiness.
God practices mercy.
We construct hierarchies. But God sees persons.
We say, “But I have been here longer.” God says, “Yes—and I love you. And I love this person too.”
Saint John Chrysostom noticed the real spiritual disease exposed by the parable. The first workers suffer no loss whatsoever. What troubles them is that others receive generosity. Their grievance therefore reveals envy: they cannot rejoice in another person’s good fortune. And that is a danger in religion.
Sometimes we secretly want grace to be scarce because scarcity allows us to feel superior. But Psalm 145 gives us a different picture:
“The LORD is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and of great kindness. The LORD is good to all.”
Not good only to the deserving. Good to all.
Christianity therefore cannot ultimately be a meritocracy because grace itself destroys the notion that we earn God’s love. We do not.
God loves us because God is love.
And the person who walks into God’s vineyard at the eleventh hour is loved as completely as the person who arrived at sunrise.
Another detail deserves attention.
Every time the landowner goes into the marketplace, he finds people waiting for work.
At five o’clock he asks, “Why do you stand here idle all day?”
Their answer is heartbreaking:
“Because no one has hired us.”
They do not say, “We did not want to work.”
They say, “Nobody hired us.”
That changes the story.
Perhaps these are not lazy workers. Perhaps they are the workers nobody wanted.
Perhaps they were old.
Perhaps physically weak.
Perhaps foreigners.
Perhaps inexperienced.
Perhaps people whom every previous employer rejected.
Second, Jesus recognizes the dignity of human work.
Note that the landowner keeps returning until everyone has been given an opportunity to work. That idea has deep roots in Judaism. Remember, Jesus was Jewish, so It’s important to consider his teachings from a Jewish perspective.
The Torah takes the treatment of workers extraordinarily seriously. Deuteronomy commands that a poor laborer—whether an Israelite or a foreigner—must not be exploited and must receive wages promptly because the worker’s livelihood depends upon them.
Rabbis like Pirkei Avot likewise valued work itself. He said, “Love work,” and his later commentary emphasizes that productive labor possesses value beyond merely accumulating money.
Why?
Because work is more than a commodity.
Work is one of the ways human beings participate in creation.
We build.
We teach.
We grow food.
We heal.
We clean.
We design.
We sing.
We care for children.
We care for the elderly.
We repair things.
We serve others.
When human work contributes to the flourishing of creation and the good of our neighbor, it participates in God’s continuing work in the world.
That means the dishwasher in the restaurant has dignity.
The farmworker has dignity.
The hotel housekeeper has dignity.
The construction worker has dignity.
The teacher, physician, musician, lawyer, gardener, caregiver, accountant, and even the volunteer, all have dignity.
Their dignity does not depend on the size of their paycheck. The Gospel challenges us to ask not merely, “How much economic value can I extract from this worker?” but “How do I recognize the human dignity of the person whose labor benefits me?”
A Christian economy must never forget the human being behind the labor.
Third, Jesus recognizes the concept of human freedom.
The landowner says something provocative yet profound: “Am I not free to do as I wish with my own money?”
Yes. He is. He fulfilled his contract with the morning workers. He cheated nobody. And now he chooses to use his own resources generously.
God gives us genuine freedom concerning many of the resources entrusted to us.
We decide what to do with our money.
We decide what causes to support.
We decide how much to keep.
We decide how much to give.
We decide whether our possessions will serve only ourselves or become instruments of compassion.
Yes, legally, something may belong to me.
But spiritually, everything belongs to God. That includes:
My money.
My talents.
My education.
My opportunities.
My time.
Even my life.
Christian freedom does not mean, “I can do whatever I want.”
Christian freedom means, “I am free to choose what kind of person I will become through what I do with what God has entrusted to me.”
Wealth itself is not evil; the moral question is how we use it. Wealth becomes good when it relieves the needs of others rather than increasing their misery
And that brings us to Paul.
Paul tells the Philippians:
“Conduct yourselves in a way worthy of the Gospel of Christ.”
That is the question this parable finally places before us.
Not simply: What am I entitled to do? But: What choice is worthy of the Gospel?
The landowner could have paid the last workers almost nothing.
Instead, he chose generosity.
He could have said, “You only worked one hour. Too bad.”
Instead, he asked what they needed to live.
And perhaps that is why Jesus begins today’s Gospel with the phrase, “The kingdom of heaven is like.”
The Kingdom of God is a world in which our calculations of worth are overturned.
A world where grace is greater than merit.
A world where every worker possesses dignity.
A world where property becomes stewardship.
And a world where freedom becomes an opportunity for generosity. AMEN.