"Are You Envious Because I am Generous" (25th Sunday, Year A)

  There is something about the Gospel today that always sets off a little indignation. I suppose its a little presumptuous that I tend to put myself in the shoes of the workers who labored all day. Perhaps you feel the same way. The workers who toiled from sunup to sundown were angry because those who arrived at the very end received the same wage. Their complaint feels justified. It seems unfair. We can be tempted to look at what someone else has received and think, “Wait a minute. They don't deserve that. I worked harder. I sacrificed more. I've been here longer.” But Jesus is putting his finger on something deeper than simple fairness. He is exposing the danger of envy.

Envy is different from just wanting what someone else has. We might see another person's house, vacation, health, family, talent or success and think, “I wish I had that.” That's jealousy and it can sometimes spur us to work harder or grow into our gifts more completely as we see others maximizing their excellence. Envy goes a step further down a dark road: “I don't necessarily need what they have. I just don't want them to have it.” Somehow another person's blessing becomes offensive to us.

There is an old saying that comparison is the thief of joy. We can have something perfectly good and be grateful for it…until we look at the life or property of someone else. Suddenly our house isn't good enough, our vacation wasn't as exciting, or our life doesn't seem as blessed.

And usually, nothing has actually changed. We still have exactly what we had five minutes ago. What has changed is what we're comparing it to. That's what happens to the workers in today's Gospel. They received exactly what they had agreed to work for. Nothing was taken away from them. But when they saw what the other workers received, suddenly their share wasn't enough.

And there is another problem: we often don't understand the whole picture. We see what somebody else has received, but we don't know everything about their life. We don't know what they've suffered, what they've sacrificed, what burdens they carry, or what God may be doing in their heart. We see one piece of the picture and think we understand the whole thing.

That's where misunderstanding can feed envy. We make assumptions about what someone deserves or why God has allowed something to happen. But Scripture reminds us, “My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord.” God's perspective is infinitely greater than ours. Sometimes what looks unfair to us is very different from God's perspective.

The workers in the Gospel couldn't appreciate the master's generosity because they were looking at his gifts through the lens of comparison. They weren't grateful for what they had received; they were offended by the gifts given to others which took nothing away from them. That can happen to us, too. When we don't understand God's ways, we can begin to judge God, judge other people, and resent the blessings he gives them.

   That’s why humility is so important. None of us are the workers who have been laboring since the very beginning. We are all latecomers in some sense. We stand here today benefiting from two thousand years of Christians who have prayed, studied, sacrificed, suffered and witnessed to the Gospel before us. We inherited the Faith. We didn't invent it or build the Church or hand Tradition down from generation to generation. So many people came before us and did that for us.

The same is true of our salvation. None of us can stand before God and say, “Look at everything I've done. You owe me.” God doesn't owe us our existence, our health, our families, our opportunities, our faith, our forgiveness, or the countless blessings we experience every day. Everything is a gift. And compared with what we actually deserve, God has already been extravagantly generous with every one of us.

So when we encounter someone who seems obnoxiously blessed, our first response shouldn't be envy. It should be gratitude. If someone has been given a beautiful family, rejoice with them. If someone has a gift or talent, be grateful for it. If someone succeeds, celebrate their good fortune. If God has given someone a blessing that we don't have, we can simply say, “Lord, thank you for giving that person this gift.” Rejoicing in the blessings of others has a way of magnifying and multiplying our own!

That's not always easy. Envy can sneak into our hearts through resentment when we see others get things we don’t think they deserve. And the more we keep looking sideways at everybody else's life, the harder it becomes to appreciate the life God has actually given us.

So when we catch ourselves thinking, “Why does he have that? Why does she get that? Why is their life so much easier?”, we must stop and turn our attention back toward God: “Lord, thank you for what you have given me. Help me to be grateful for my blessings and genuinely happy for those of others. And help me to trust that you see what I cannot.”

Perhaps that's why the master ends the Gospel with that piercing question: “Are you envious because I am generous?” It's a question worth reflecting on. Can I rejoice when God is generous to someone else? Can I trust that God's generosity toward another person doesn't diminish his generosity toward me?

The answer begins with gratitude. We don't have to keep looking around the vineyard, counting everybody else's wages. We can look at what God has placed in our own hands and simply say, “Lord, thank you.” Thank you for the life you've given me. Thank you for the people you've placed in my life. Thank you for the faith handed on to me. Thank you for your mercy. Thank you for inviting me into your vineyard in the first place.

We are all blessed far beyond what we deserve. As we continue with the Eucharist, it is enough to give thanks for God's countless blessings and rejoice that he is generous beyond our understanding!

The Role of Watchman (23rd Sunday, Year A)

  A couple of weeks ago, I was fortunate enough to take a vacation to Hawaii. I don’t think I was prepared for the breathtaking beauty of the place which made the week really wonderful! One of the things I had wanted to do for a long time was visit the USS Arizona Memorial at Pearl Harbor. I remember reading about Pearl Harbor when I was a little boy obsessed with WWII, so to finally stand there…to see the harbor, to imagine battleship row, and stand over the spot where so many young men lost their lives, was incredibly powerful. But what struck me most was learning more about what happened before the attack. There were warning signs. Information had been passed up the line. There were people whose job was to watch, listen, pay attention and communicate what they discovered. And yet, for a variety of reasons, those warnings weren't acted upon. Standing there, it struck me how important the role of a watchman really is.

The job of a watchman is pretty simple: pay attention, recognize danger, and warn others. And today, the Church gives us that same image, but applies it to every one of us. God says to Ezekiel in our first reading, “You, son of man, I have appointed watchman for the house of Israel.” If Ezekiel sees danger coming and fails to warn the people, he bears responsibility. But if he warns them and they refuse to listen, then Ezekiel has done his job. That distinction is important. We are responsible for speaking the truth, but we aren't responsible for how someone responds to it. We can warn, encourage, challenge and love, but we cannot control another person's choices.

That role of watching and warning applies to our families, our marriages, our friendships, our Church and our communities. But we also need watchmen in our own lives. Because sometimes the person who needs to be warned isn't somebody else. It's me.

That's where this Gospel gets uncomfortable. Last week, the Scriptures challenged us to think about our relationship with truth: Are we willing to speak the truth, defend the truth and even suffer for the truth? But there's an even harder question: Am I willing to hear the truth about myself? It's one thing to say, “We need to speak the truth.” It's another thing when somebody says, “Hey, can I tell you something about yourself?” Suddenly, we're not quite as enthusiastic about truth!

I know in my own life there have been plenty of times when I've been much more comfortable giving correction than receiving it. It's easy to see what somebody else needs to change. It's a lot harder to admit that maybe there's something in me that needs to be addressed. And when somebody points that out, our first reaction isn't always humility. Often we go on the attack. Or we start offering excuse after excuse!

Jesus knows we're going to have these moments. He also knows that sometimes love requires us to say difficult things. Notice how he tells us to do it. He doesn't say, “Go tell everybody what this person has done.” He doesn't say, “Tell your spouse, your friend, your co-worker, or put it on social media.” He says, “Go to the person.” “If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault between you and him alone.”

That's noteworthy because it's often the exact opposite of what we do. We talk to everybody except the person who needs to hear it. We tell anyone who will listen about what that other person did. And Jesus says: No. Start with them. Go to them alone.

Why? Because correction without love becomes criticism, and criticism without relationship becomes condemnation. …Jesus isn't interested in us winning an argument. He's interested in winning a person.

When I correct someone because I want to prove I'm right, that's not Christian correction. When I point out someone's failure so everyone else knows what they did, that's not Christian correction. The Christian watchman must have a different motivation: love. Love changes the way we handle conflict.

Our culture says, “Expose people.” Jesus says, “Restore people.”

Our culture says, “Win at all costs.” Jesus says, “do everything you can to reconcile the wrongdoer.”

Our culture says, “Make sure everybody knows what they did.” Jesus says, “Go to the person alone and try to work it out.”

That's what a Christian watchman does. And sometimes it will be uncomfortable. The person may not appreciate what we have to say. But remember what God tells Ezekiel: our responsibility is to faithfully give the warning. We cannot force somebody to listen.

Today’s readings ask us if we love others enough to speak up when I see them going astray? And do I listen when I am that person in need of correction and warning?

Let us take time to pray about the people and circumstances where we are being called to be watchmen for others. Who might need a difficult but loving word from me? Am I ready to speak to them with Christ-like love? Not harshly. Not arrogantly. Not behind their back. But humbly, privately, prayerfully, and with the genuine hope that they will grow closer to Christ. Am I praying for them at least as much as I am offering advice and correction?

And just as importantly: Who has God placed in my life to watch over me? None of us gets to say, “I have nothing to change.” We're all sinners. We're all works in progress. And we all need people who love us enough to tell us the truth.

May God give us the courage to speak the truth when we need to speak it, and the humility to hear the truth when we need to hear it. And may he give us the wisdom to remember that the goal isn't to win an argument, prove a point, or make somebody feel bad. The goal is to win the person back. To help one another get home. To help one another become saints. And ultimately, to help one another find our way back to Christ.