25th Sunday 2026
Isaiah 55: 6-9; Philippians 1:20-27; Matthew 20: 1-16
“My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are my ways your ways” declares the Lord. What are our thoughts? What are your thoughts and ways? What are mine?
Perhaps we believe that they are the thoughts and ways of God. Not a chance! As God goes on to say, “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways etc.” However exalted our thoughts, however virtuous our ways, we simply cannot compare them with those of God.
The Greek myths are full of stories of human beings, both men and women, who tried to compete with the gods and goddesses of the Greek pantheon. All of them were severely punished for their presumption. Clearly, we are not going to compete with the one true God, but we are fooling ourselves if we think that we are getting things always right, that we are perfectly aligned with God’s intentions, thoughts, and will. It would be as if the winner of the dads’ race at the school sports were to believe himself on a par with the Olympic 100 metres champion.
So much trouble is caused in the world by people who believe that they have the mind of God. Those who burned heretics were convinced that they were doing God’s will, as were those who preached Crusades. Islamic jihadists, who slaughter or kidnap those who disagree with them, fall into the same category: to a lesser degree do those who use the Bible as a weapon to denounce, judge, and condemn others.
A few months ago, someone, I suspect in America, raised the question “As a Christian, what should I do if my child comes out as gay?” The rage, coupled with complacency, of most who responded, convinced that they had the mind of God, and who positively relished the prospect of gay people burning in hell, was both shocking and disgusting. Eventually, someone intervened with the simple question “What about the Gospels?”
It appeared that those people who were convinced that their thoughts were God’s thoughts, had never read the words “Judge not, and you will not be judged: condemn not, and you will not be condemned”, had never heard Jesus say to the woman caught in adultery, and who WAS a sinner “Neither do I condemn you”. Those who rush to condemn others do not think God’s thoughts or walk in His ways.
Please God, we are never so brutal or so smug. What though do we make of today’s parable? Do you, do I, sympathise with the early workers who, as the shop steward points out, have borne the heat and burden of the day?
I don’t know about you, but my initial reaction is to say “Yes”. But is that right? The first question is “Did the workers receive a fair wage?” If so, then realistically they have no grounds for complaint: a denarius was regarded as a fair day’s pay for a day’s work. Their objection really comes down to resentment and to jealousy. They have been treated justly: it isn’t actually their business if others are given more than their due.
In any case, who are the eleventh hour workers? Is it not we, the Gentiles, who are rewarded so generously? Those who have worked hard all day are the Jews: we are the latecomers. Should we not be grateful that God is minded to treat us with the same gifts as He promised to the original chosen people? And should we not rejoice when someone who has, for instance, lived an immoral life, or has totally neglected God, repents at the last moment, and is treated as generously as we are.
You may be familiar with the famous photograph of the last helicopter out of Saigon at the end of the Vietnam War, as it was preparing to lift off while desperate people were struggling to climb aboard to escape the North Vietnamese army and the Vietcong. That might serve, in a number of admittedly limited ways, as an illustration of the arrival of the Gentiles on the timeline of salvation history. Anyone who complacently believes that s/he has the thoughts and ways of God, might benefit from reflecting on that photo.
