Are You Envious Because I am Generous?
As a convert, I was mostly on board with God’s generosity in today’s parable of the laborers. After all, those who labored in the vineyard since early morning made my afternoon conversion possible. Yet, I wondered about the last-minute arrivals, especially those who had been hostile to the laborers. Maybe they should receive a prorated wage.
But one day, God rearranged my thinking. I was born into a pagan family. Yet, I invited my parents to attend the service where I would come into the Catholic Church. To my surprise, they came. The Easter Vigil, when new members enter the Church, is the looongest of Catholic liturgies. Who knew? Not me.
My dad had many admirable qualities but the ability to sit through things lasting longer than 30 minutes was not one of them. This made Easter Vigil more than memorable. As I, along with the other newcomers, got up, sat back down, knelt, prayed, then got back up, sat back down, and around and around again, my dad grew more and more agitated. No one knew when this induction into the Church would end.
I’m sure my dad wanted to storm out, with my mom running behind him, so she wouldn’t be left stranded in the parking lot. I’m not sure why he didn’t. Maybe my in-laws’ attendance kept him in his seat. Instead, he emitted dagger signals my way. I wanted to fold myself in half and slide under the pew to escape his how-dare-you-put-me-through-this energy.
No one knew then that less than 10 years later, I would be standing at his deathbed desperately trying to get my dad to accept the Sacrament of Baptism (one of the three I received that Easter Vigil night) that he had grumped his way through. When I called a priest to baptize my dad, my dad sent the priest away while I cried in the corner.
At my wits’ end of every prayer, every effort, I cried to the Lord, “I can’t take this! I hand everything to You.” A few days later, in the middle of the night, while I tried to sleep next to my dad’s bedside, I felt prompted to ask again about baptism. Then, as if on cue, his oxygen monitor started beeping, waking him up. With knocking knees, I asked him again about baptism. This time, he agreed. Shortly after his baptism, my dad passed away.
My dad never worked in the vineyard. There wasn’t even enough time for a labor/wage agreement.
Each of us loves someone whom we desperately want God’s mercy poured out upon. God’s generosity silences us from any jealous claims against hostile working conditions and last minute arrivals. Instead, I’m relieved and grateful He offers us all a full day’s wage.
— Frances Smit
Reflection provided by diocesan.com. Reprinted with permission.