The 11 th Hour

“ And about the eleventh hour he went out, and found others standing idle, and saith unto them, Why stand ye here all the day idle? They say unto him, Because no man hath hired us. He saith unto them, Go ye also into the vineyard; and whatsoever is right, that shall ye receive. ”

The sands of time run inexorably to their finish, and when they run out… There is a day when it will be too late . Too late to say, I'm sorry. Too late to do that necessary good deed for someone. Too late to become the man you know you should have been. Too late to change that bad habit. Too late to finally read that Bible. Too late to get to know God. It's going to be too late when 11:59 becomes 12.

The parable that Jesus gives today in the Gospel can be read on many levels, and contains many lessons, as so many of His parables do. The parable of the prodigal son may be read from the perspective of the lost son finally found, the begrudging older brother, or the father who waits patiently and expectantly. That story is similar to this one, the workers in the vineyard . Here also those who were there all along complain about the newcomers getting better treatment than they deserve. But what about those last who became first? What were they doing all day?

Any employer knows their story about not being hired was only a partial truth. The goodman of the vineyard had already gone out hiring every able man in the market square four times. These fellows who showed up sometime between the 9 th hour and the 11 th hour had been very late showing up for the labor pool. Their hope of being hired had to be almost a wish not to work at all. Unemployment can be a self-fulfilling prophecy.

There is something about that 11 th hour, though. God works at that hour quite often, challenging the latecomers, finding the lost, watching for an opportunity, moving His Hand at very last. How many of us have labored under some burden, suffered an illness, been stretched across an unbearable trial and waited in pain for God's healing relief? He doesn't come in the first hour, and we wait. He doesn't come in the 3 rd , nor in the 6 th , nor in the 9 th hour. We pray, we fast, we seek council, we look for other options. And just when we are losing hope, our strength almost entirely gone, joy given over to despair, the grace to persevere evaporated: just at that 11 th hour, God moves something and the problem is removed. God very often waits until the 11 th hour and then He does something dramatically different.

Certainly, for the workers hired at the 11 th hour, the master was a long time in coming. Whatever they had been up to, trying to sell Kirby vacuums door to door perhaps, sleeping off a night partying, visiting a sick relative, or mending their coveralls—they were now finally in the marketplace, hoping to find some last hour work and a little money. God did not despise these, but brought them in and generously paid them a day's wage. How grateful they were to receive it, too. They were lost , but now found, broke , but now rewarded, last , but now first. God is good to the 11 th hour workman—but notice that the master didn't go again to the marketplace.

Were there foolish men who showed up at 11:05, thinking better late than never ? If so, they were not hired that day. God may be generous in His offer of salvation to both young and old, those who only just heard of Jesus and those who've been considering Christ all their lives, but without making a decision. There comes a time when the offer is withdrawn, the grace no longer available, the expectation of an open door and a warm welcome refused and rebuked . “There shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” Somebody's going to gnash.

If God is good at 11 th hour rescues, should we be always trying for the late train and avoiding the burden and heat of the day? Can we live in that assumption that it's only too late when we die, we can live like the world and repent on our death bed, have last rites said over our dying frames, and get to heaven anyway? It was a common practice in the early ages of the Church for people, especially emperors and soldiers, to delay their baptism until they lay dying. That way there was assurance of forgiveness for all their life and no problem in knowingly sinning after the grace of Baptism had been received. Constantine is said to have held back his Baptism until he died. That takes some pretty good planning, and prescience, knowing exactly what hour you're going to leave this life. What if you wait too long? If you get hit by a bus?

But I have another question. Men entered the labor pool early in the day, came out with the others, and were there—but did they work? Did all those lifelong workers in God's vineyard each bring in the same amount of ripe fruit? Were some of them harder workers than the others, and some just looked busy, or figured to be paid for just being there? I look at the common Christian seen in churches today, who warms a spot on a pew, mouths the words of the hymns, eats the Body and drinks the Blood, puts a penny in the plate and wanders out, after coffee hour, unchanged, unmoved, unaffected, to blend back into the world. He serves two masters, hedges his bets, plays it safe but never commits. What does God think of such a fellow?

Vineyards figure symbolically in many Scriptures. Christ uses it in parables about a son who says he'll work and doesn't and about tenant farm workers who refuse to give the owner his share. Isaiah and Jeremiah each have vineyard prophecies. The vines grow every year and yield the rich grapes, giving wine and pleasure to the life of the householder. We might be seen as the grapes, God harvesting us at the end of the world. But He also sees us as workers who help Him in His harvest, and whose job it is to gather in the grapes. But whether we're the grapes or we're the workers: neither of these symbols makes us the consumers, and neither entitles us to some outstanding reward for doing nothing.

But the American Christian so often appears to believe his salvation is free: like air, like water from a public fountain, like citizenship when you're born here. People are born into the Christian family by accident of birth or habit or social connection, and may think that their receiving of the sacraments keep them in good standing and God's graces. People actually will believe they get high marks for just coming to Church on Sunday instead of staying home and sleeping in. “What does God want of me, anyway?”

I like St. Paul's attitude here, expressed in our Epistle. “Don't you realize that, though all the runners in the stadium take part in the race, only one of them gets the prize? Run like that—to win. Every athlete concentrates completely on training, and this is to win a wreath that will wither, whereas ours will never wither. So that is how I run, not lacking a clear goal; and how I box, not wasting punches on air. I punish my body and bring it under control, to avoid any risk that, having acted as herald for others, I myself may be disqualified.” 1 Cor. 9:24-27 This is not a spectator religion. We don't come just to watch. What then are we to do? What is the labor of the people in the pews?

There are jobs in the church that are obvious to anyone who is here. Ushers seat people, open and close the altar gate, collect the alms. Some read the Epistles. Others prepare the coffee and clean the kitchen. Some teach children. Others prepare the altar and clear it after worship. Some give and arrange flowers. Some have a personal calling just to find newcomers and spend time explaining this worship to them. These happen every Sunday. And they do it with all their heart, running like winners. At other times, some volunteer to paint murals in Augie's. Some work in the garden. Some collate, staple and fold the Herald & Sower . Some mind the treasury, make deposits, pay bills. Some clean the place. Some answer phones. Some are paid, most are not. And still there is other work in the kingdom to do.

God's Church is not bound by these walls, and neither is the vineyard only within the doors of the church. Our work as Christians extends out into the world. When the deacon cries out at the close of Communion, “Depart in Peace!” it is a commissioning. You go with God's Peace that passes understanding, bearing the Lord's Body and Blood within you. At your confirmation, you were made a minister of grace for the world, and now you leave filled and ready to impart that grace. Your neighbor, friend or sister needs Jesus. You are all the Jesus they may ever see. They need to be brought here with your encouragement, to find out someone cares, to feel they are valued this much.

God's ears hear in other places than at this altar. Your prayers daily for all men, for this city, for those in need of His grace may be heard by your bedside, in your living room, at your table, or in the world. Every Christian has the job of praying, praying hard for God's resolution for things in this life.

What else? God has things for you to do, sacrifices to make, a Christian life to live, an example, a reasonable offering. Consumer Christianity, trying out services and churches like deciding which grocery store to patronize, is a detestable misappropriation of the Gospel. God's good news is not that we are running a sale on sacramental wine here. The good news is not that Baptisms are free. ( You pay $2,500 at Grace Cathedral in San Francisco .) The good news is that God has called you, chosen you, brought you into His work force, and now has something for you to do to occupy your life. If you don't yet know what that is at this hour, the 11 th hour, ask Him, seek it out, and when you see something going undone: don't criticize unless you are chiding yourself for not seeing it and doing it yourself.

PFH+