Twenty-Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Fr. Ben Riley
Imagine that you give two children each a bowl of ice cream.
At first, both children are delighted. They have ice cream. Everything is wonderful.
But then one of them looks into the other child’s bowl and notices.
“Wait a minute. He has more than I do.”
Suddenly, the ice cream in front of him is no longer enough. It is the same ice cream he was thrilled to have just five seconds
earlier, but now he is unhappy-not because he received less than he was promised, but because someone else appears to
have received more.
Sadly, we learn to compare ourselves with others very early in life, and most of us never entirely grow out of it.
That’s what happens in today’s Gospel.
A landowner goes out at dawn and hires laborers for his vineyard. He returns at nine, at noon, at three, and finally at five-almost at
the end of the day. When evening comes, he pays everyone the same daily wage.
Those who worked all day begin looking around.
“Wait a minute. Those men worked only one hour. We worked through the burden and heat of the entire day. Why are they
receiving the same as us?”
And if we are honest, many of us sympathize with these laborers. It doesn’t seem fair.
But notice when their unhappiness begins. They agreed to the wage. They received exactly what they had been promised. They
became unhappy only when they started comparing what they had received with what someone else received.
Isn’t that what we do?
“Why does he have more money than I do? Why did she receive that job promotion and I didn’t? Why is their family doing so well
while mine is struggling? Why did God answer his prayer but not mine?”
Like that boy with the ice cream, we start looking around and noticing.
“He has more than I have. That person does not deserve what God has given them.”
My brothers and sisters, might I suggest, let’s stop looking around, but together, look up.
Because when we judge God’s generosity, we are judging from an extremely limited perspective. “For my thoughts are not your
thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the LORD.”
The laborers who worked all day knew only one thing about those hired at five o’clock: that they had worked for only one hour. That
was all they knew.
They did not know why no one had hired them. They did not know where they had been or what burdens they carried. Perhaps they
had been searching for work for days. Perhaps they had children waiting at home who needed to eat. They saw only one hour of
work. The landowner saw the whole person and the whole story.
We make the same mistake. We see one small part of another person’s life and decide that God has treated us unfairly. But we
do not know what that person has suffered, what wounds they carry, or what battles they have fought in secret.
We see only a moment. God sees the whole story.
And there is an even deeper lesson here. The great spiritual masters tell us that we must not fall in love merely with the
benefits of God. We must fall in love with God himself.
It is easy to follow God when prayer feels consoling, life is going well, and we receive what we have asked for. But if our love for
God depends entirely upon the benefits he gives us, then perhaps we do not yet love God- perhaps we only love what we can get
from him.
Sometimes, especially early in our spiritual lives, God gives us many consolations. Prayer feels profound. We enjoy going to
Mass. We see God’s presence clearly.
But sometimes those consolations fade. God does not permit this because he is cruel. He permits it because he wants to draw us
into a deeper love-a love for him rather than merely for his gifts.
The vineyard in today’s parable represents the Kingdom of God and the mission God has entrusted to us. Some people enter that
vineyard early in life. Others come much later. Some serve God faithfully from childhood. Others return after being away for
decades. Some may turn to him only during the final hour of their lives.
Instead of asking, “Why should they receive what I receive?” “Why should they be saved, when I loved God all my life?” We
should rejoice that they have entered the vineyard at all.
The greatest gift is not simply the payment at the end of the day. The greatest gift is that the landowner came looking for us, called
us by name, and gave us a place in his vineyard.
So when you are tempted to compare yourself with someone else, remember those two bowls of ice cream. The quickest way
to become ungrateful for what is in your bowl is to stare at what God has placed in someone else’s.
God sees what we cannot see. He knows the whole story. And rather than resenting his generosity toward others, let us thank
him for the grace of belonging to him and for the privilege of laboring together in his vineyard.
Stop looking around. But together, let us look up.