The Parable of the Laborers in the Vineyard

Matthew xxi. 1 — 16.

In this passage of Scripture commentators have found a grand battle-field — all manner of opinions having been entertained, and maintained, about its proper meaning. It forms a part of Christ’s answer to Peter’s question, ‘“‘ Behold, we have forsaken all, and followed thee; what shall we have therefore?”’ That is plain: but who the laborers are, what is meant by the hours, what is the true value of the penny, now the story affords either a satisfactory reply to the question that originated it, or a sufficient féundation to the moral that Christ builds on it, are points on which divines have widely differed. The key is yet to be found — if it ever will be found — which, fitting all its wards, will fully unlock this parable. Hitherto it has baffled the efforts of the ablest critics; and in the obscurity under which, to a greater or less extent, it remains, after all that they have done to elucidate its meaning, it stands here recalling the words of David, will incline mine ear to a parable, I will open my dark saying upon the harp.” Rather than attempt to

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settle controversies which seem insoluble, we shall take a practical view of this parable, — turning our eyes on some great truths which are plainly discernible through what is dusky and ambiguous; and which are calculated, with God’s blessing, to reward our attention and, if not to entertain our fancy, to profit our souls. For notwithstanding the doubts, and difficulties, and differences of commentators, this parable resembles a mountain which, though partially concealed by the mists that are wrapped around its bosom and fall in gray folds on its ample limbs, presents in noble forests, and stupendous crags and peaks which, crowned with snow and bathed in sunshine, pierce the skies, many grand views. In opening these up let us first look at the parable as it relates the. proceedings of the householder.

His is a story of Eastern life. — He had a vineyard — as indeed have all men of any position or substance in those lands, where vines, planted in the fields, or clothing the naked rocks, or drooping in beautiful festoons from tree to tree, are cultivated, and the grape forms an important article of food, its juice taking the place which milk has in the diet of our farm- “laborers, and the fruit of the vine dried in the sun and prepared in various ways besides, forming a means of subsistence the whole year through; facts these from which to learn the true, full meaning of such expressions as ‘¢a land of corn and wine,” ‘‘ corn shall make the young men cheerful, and new wine the maids.” The time of this parable is that season of the year eae te See er ae a ae ae eo PS ee p?

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when, like farms at harvest or at hay-making, the. vineyard required more than the work of its regular hands. ‘The householder must hire others; and for that purpose he rises with the dawn, and repairs to the marketplace of the town or village where he resided, and where sun-burned hardy men of bone and muscle on the outlook for employment, were in the habit of assembling. Such stalwart groups may be seen in our own towns; and in the Hast, where. all things are stereotyped, the custom of this householder’s time still remains — a recent traveler mentioning that on passing through a town in Palestine, he saw such a gathering in its market-place; and on asking the people why they were standing idle there, got for answer these very words, ‘‘ because no man hath hired us.’ Hirmg such as he found there at early morn, the householder sent them off to his vineyard, agreeing to pay them a penny for the day’s work — a sum which, though it appears small to us, amounting in our money only to sevenpence or eightpence, was the pay of a Roman soldier, and the average wage of a working man. About nine o’clock of the day, here called the third hour, the householder, finding himself still slack of hands, returns to the market-place, and hires others; he does the same at twelve, and the same again at three o’clock, — promising the laborers, since they could have no claim to a full day’s wage, to pay them whatsoever was right. By and by the sun sinks low, the day shortens, and the shadows lengthen; another hour, and the chance of an engagement is gone from any who are standing in the market-place Yet once more, late though it be, as with one turned to God when his head is gray, the householder returns; and undertaking to give them also what was right, he hires others, who betake themselves to work, confiding in his justice — perhaps also in his generosity. And? now the sun sets; the laborers drop their toil, wipe their brows, and at the summons of the steward come for their hire — the law of Moses, which jealously protected the poor man’s rights and leaned rather to the side of the weak than the strong, requiring that the day which saw work done should see it paid. The parable states that the householder directed those to be first paid who were last hired: and so indeed the story required to be constructed — in order to bring forth the bad passions of those who had, to use their own words, borne the heat and burden of the day. Because, had the paying followed the order of the hiring, it is evident that they would have been off to their homes with their wages; nor have had their envy roused by the generosity which made all alike, and, unarrested in its flow by their demerits, bestowed the same wages on such as had wrought one hour as on those who, toiling from morn to night, had wrought all the twelve. These on seeing the last hired receive in a penny the price of a full day’s work, fancied that they would receive more. But here, as in other cases, greed cheated herself. They found themselves mistaken: but, instead of swallowing their disappointment to laud the householder, and congratulate their fellows on his generosity to them, they began to murmur against his injustice to themselves. One bolder than

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the rest, undertaking to be their mouthpiece, steps out, and, showing the penny in his open palm, remonstrates with the householder, saying, ‘‘ These last have wrought but one hour, and thou hast made them equal to us, which have borne the heat and burden of the day.” They make no appeal to the bountifulness which had lavished its gifts on the others, but, assuming the air of injured men, rest their complaint on grounds of justice. The householder accepts battle on the ground of their own choosing: and how signal their defeat! If they had fulfilled the conditions of the bargain, so had he. ‘They had agreed to accept a penny for the day’s work, and he had paid it. Friend, or fellow, he says, I do thee no. wrong. If I choose to be generous to others, what is that to thee? It should excite thy admiration, why does it kindle thy envy? Injustice! Is it not lawful for me to do what I will with my own? Begone — away with you and your wages!

Such is the story which our Lord told; and now, to regard it in some of its plain and practical aspects, I remark that we find here

The rejection of the Jews, and admission of the Gentiles. — Fancy, which sometimes roams as wide and wild over the field of parables as over that of prophecy, may think she discovers in the different hours at which the laborers were called, distinctly different periods in the history of the Church — its leading epochs. So in the band which, brushing the dew from the grass, enters the vineyard in the morning, she may see the world’s gray fathers, the good men before the flood — in such as were hired at the third hour, the patriarchs who, kindling their torch at Noah’s altar, preserved religion alive till the call of Abraham — in their successors, who enter on work when the sun is at his height, the nation that left Egypt to conquer and cast out the inhabitants, and occupy the land, of Canaan o’clock of our day, the same people, reanimated by a revival under Elijah, or returning under Ezra from captivity to the worship and land of their fathers. Perhaps our Lord, sketching the past with rapid hand, had these events before him: but it is to those of which Time, long pregnant, was on the eve of giving birth, that this parable mainly refers. For many centuries, and all alone, the Jews have been laboring in the Lord’s vineyard; while the Gentiles, wholly given up to every species of idolatry, have been standing unhired, and idle, — living without God or hope in the world. The hour of their call being at hand, they were about to be admitted to equal privileges with the Jews: and within the pale of a Church which, made for mankind, was to recognize no external distinctions, knowing men neither as Jew nor Greek, barbarian, Scythian, bond or free; they were to be placed on a level with those who, accounting themselves the meritorious as well as special favorites of Heaven, had looked down with contempt on all other humanity — their boastful cry, ‘‘The temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord, are we.” This delightful, glorious prospect was peculiarly obnoxious to the Jews — had no beauty in their jaundiced eyes. Proud and haughty, animated by passions unbecoming fallen man, and most

in those summoned at the ninth hour, or three offensive to a gracious and holy God, they rejected both the Scheme and the divine Schemer; and, crucifying the Lord of Glory, were themselves rejected. Filled with pride, scorn, envy, self-righteousness, their eyes open to other’s faults but blind to their own, they placed themselves in the same relation to God as these laborers to the householder whose justice they could not justly challenge, but whose generosity to such as, types of the Gentile nations, were called at the eleventh hour, they wickedly and insolently grudged. So, as Christ here and elsewhere teaches, the Jews forfeited the favor of God, and with a **‘ Go thy way,”’ were dismissed from the glorious honors and gracious rewards of his service. Thus, warning us against building our hopes on any outward religious advantages, ‘‘ the first were last’’ — as in the adoption of the Gentiles, ‘‘ the last were first.”’

A warning against selfishness and self-righteousness. — in the Shorter Catechism of the Westminster Assembly, the answers, as a series of distinct theological propositions, stand independent of the questions to which they are attached; but it is sometimes necessary, in order to fully understand an answer, first to read the question — as in some plants, we find their true substance lodged in the roots from which they spring; and here Peter’s question helps to decipher the parable which forms a part of Jesus’ answer. A short while before our Lord spake these words, there had occurred one of the saddest and most touching scenes in his history. A young man, liberally endowed with wealth, and, better still, with admirable moral qualities, had, elbowing his way through the crowd, come to Jesus; and, with gaze fixed on heaven and wings outspread for flight, sought his counsel — saying, Good master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life? Go, was the answer, sell all that thou hast and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me! He was not prepared for this — for such a complete surrender of all which men hold dear. He longed, and looked, and wistfully looked again; but the price was too high. He was unfortunate enough, as others have been, to be very wealthy; and so, though Jesus loved him and followed his departing steps with kindly interest, he returned to the embraces of the world — strange yet true conjunction — “sorrowful, for he had great possessions.’’ What an event for a sermon! — the subject Mammon, and he the text. Seizing the occasion, and taking his eyes from this youth, as with drooping head and slow, reluctant steps, he disappears in the distance, Jesus turns a solemn, sad look on his disciples to say, ‘“‘ Verily I say unto you, that a rich man shall hardly enter the kingdom ef heaven. And again I say unto you, It is easier for a camel to go saa the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.”

This is a wreck — made, I may say, at the very mouth of the harbor; and not difficult to. be accounted for. It can be traced entirely to this, that he acted in the matter from a regard to self, and not to God; and also that he sought eternal life on the score of his own merits, and not on grounds of mercy. Yet hardly has Simon Peter seen the catastrophe, and heard the warning, than, apparently blind to the one and deaf to the other, he comes to his Master with a question, in which we detect distinct traces of a selfish and self-righteous spirit. He and his companions had not left great possessions to follow Jesus — their ‘all’ being the gains of men who, as fishers, earned a precarious livelihood from the treacherous sea; yet he contrasts himself and them with this youth; and putting in a claim of merit, under cover of devotion to Christ, says, ‘‘ Behold, we have forsaken all and followed thee;”’ asking, as if it were not enough to have Him for their reward, ‘* What shall we have therefore?’’ It needs no chemist’s fine tests and delicate analysis to detect base and bad elements in this speech. What shall we have? — the question which seems most to interest him is not Christ’s honor, but his own profit — what shall we have therefore in compensation for our sacrifices; in the shape of wages which we deserve, and you owe to us? ‘‘Get theebehind me, Satan,’ were words with which, like a blow in his face, our Lord once on a time astonished Peter; and it is not less a rebuke of his spirit, and a warning both to him and the others, that Jesus relates a story where those who stand on the value of their works forfeit the master’s favor and are dismissed from his service; and where such as work but one hour receive as great a reward as those who toil all day. Thus he teaches that salvation is not of works, but of grace — warning Peter not what he should, but what, save for divine grace, he might become by indulging the envious, unkind, uncharitable, selfish, and self-righteous spirit of these laborers; how he would, like 23% the youth of “great possessions,” illustrate the saying, ‘‘ Many are called but few are chosen;”’ or, like the laborers in the vineyard, the other saying, ‘The first shall be last, and the last shall be first.’’ Looking, not at its accessories, but main object, this parable could find no better motto than the words of an inspired apostle — so dashing to human pride, but so cheering to the humble and broken-hearted, “Not by works of righteousness that we have done, but according to his mercy he saved us.”’

Salvation is not of works, but of grace. — Papists and others have drawn the very opposite doctrine from this parable. Misunderstanding or misrepresenting its scope, they have appealed to it as proving that we are saved by works; and that though Christ is, so to speak, the key-stone, our good works form the body and main structure of the arch. In evidence of this, they maintain that heaven is represented heré under the form of wages — a reward due to men for their works; and that, of course, those laborers who incurred the householder’s displeasure, as well as those who were the objects of his favor and the pensioners of his gracious bounty, represent the saved. If this is so, we have altogether mistaken the nature of heaven and the spirit of its glorified inhabitants. We fancied that it was the abode of happiness, disturbed by no jealousies, embittered by no bad and unhallowed passions — where, though saints, like the stars, might differ in glory, none envied the brighter lustre of others’ crowns, but wll with one accord, ascribing their salvation to the mercy of the Father and merits of the Son, magnified

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the grace, none impugning the justice, of God. It is enough to say that an explanation of this parable which, besides contradicting the whole tenor of Scripture, involves such absurdities, introducing envy and jealousy and discontent into heaven, must be wrong. As to the payment of the penny to the murmurers, it is a necessary part of the story. It was a matter of equity on the part of the householder; and had he failed to do that, these grumblers would have had occasion to impeach his justice — not that generosity which is the true point of the parable, the feature of salvation it is set forth to illustrate.

What this parable, where the Church is the vineyard and men are the laborers, intends to illustrate, meets us on the threshold — in the circumstance that the householder, who represents God, seeks the laborers; not they the householder. Early morn does not find them crowding his door, and offering to work in his service: nor even when it becomes known that he has already hired a number, do those who stand idle in the market leave it to repair to the vineyard, soliciting employment. On the contrary, again and again and again, he comes for laborers — in every case the approach and first movement being on his part; never on theirs. Even so, the first steps toward reconciliation between man and God are always taken by Him. He designed redemption in the councils of eternity, so that, in a sense, before man lived he was loved, was redeemed before he sinned, and raised up before he fell. Without any application on our part, of his own free spontaneous will, God sent his Son to redeem, and sends his Spirit to renew. The spark of grace which we have to nurse, He kindled in our bosoms; it was his hand on the helm that turned us round; and whether we were at first, as some are, driven to Christ by terrors, or, as others are, sweetly drawn to Him by the attractions of his love, anyway it was the Lord’s doing — Jesus, all praise be to his grace, being at once the Alpha and Omega of salvation, the author as well as finisher of our faith. <A great truth this! — it finds fit and glorious expression yonder, where the saints, descending from their heavenly thrones, cast blood-bought crowns at Jesus’ feet; and one well put by the simple Christian, who, on being taunted with believing the doctrine of election, replied, “‘I know that God chose me, because, unless He had first chosen me, I am sure I never would have chosen Him.”

Till we enter Gtod’s service, all our industry is idle- —

ness. — As we have the Church in the vineyard, we have the world in the market-place of this parable: and how striking the picture! There, where some talking with their neighbors tell the news, and some having nothing else to do engage in games, and some are laughing, and some are yawning, and some with their backs to the wall, or stretched out at full length on the ground are sleeping, but none are working, is the world — this busy world, as it is called, where people, believe them, in their daily toil for bread, or keen pursuit of wealth, or pleasure, or fame, have not one hour to spare for the things that belong to salvation and their everlasting peace. Ay, how would many deem us mad, and fancy that religion had turned our brain, were we to walk into the counting-room, the crowded shop, the silent study, the public assembly, to say nothing of the festive hall, the applauding theatre, the gay, whirling ball-room, and address them thus: ‘Why stand ye here idle all the day?’ Mad? — “I am not mad, most noble Festus.” There is such a thing as laborious idleness. Busy? So was the shepherd on the Alps, mentioned by Dugald Stewart, who spent fifteen years of life learning to balance a pole on his chin: and the philosopher sagely remarks how much good, had they been directed to a noble object, this diligence and perseverance would have accomplished. Busy? So have I seen the miller’s wheel, which went round and round: but idly, grinding no corn. Busy? So, in a way, was the Russian who, facing the winter’s cold nor regarding the cost of massive slabs brought at great labor from frozen lake and river, built him an icy palace, within whose glittering, translucent walls, wrapped in furs and shining in jewels, rank and beauty held their revelry, and the bowl and the laugh and the song went round. But with soft breath, and other music, and opening buds, Spring returned; and then before the eyes that had gazed with wonder on the crystal walls of that fairy palace as they gleamed by night with a thousand lights, or flashed with the radiance of gems in the bright sunshine, it dissolved, nor left ‘a rack behind’’ — its pleasures, ‘‘ vanity;’’ its expense, ‘‘ vexation of spirit.” Busy? So, in a way, are the children who, when the tide is at the ebb, with merry laughter and rosy cheeks and nimble hands build a castle of the moist seasand — the thoughtless urchins, types of lovers of pleasure and of the world, so intent on their work as not to see how the treacherous, silent tide has crept around them, not merely to sap and undermine, and — with one rude blow of her billow demolish the work of their hands, but to cut off their retreat to the distant shore, and drown their frantic screams and cries for help in the roar of its remorseless waves. From a death-bed, where all he toiled and sinned and sorrowed for is slipping from his grasp, fading from his view, ‘such will his life seem to the busiest worldling; he spends his strength for nought, and his labor for that which profiteth not. With an eye that pities because it foresees our miserable doom, God calls us from such busy trifling, from a life of laborious idleness, to a service which is as pleasant as it is profitable, as graceful as it is dutiful, saymg — Work out your salvation — Work while it is called to-day, seeing that the night cometh when no man can work.

And work now. Why, some may ask, now? Their sun is not yet in his meridian; or, if the shadow has turned, he has still a long bright path to travel ere he sinks in night — eleven hours for play and one hour for work, eleven for enjoyment and one for employment, is their reading of the parable. It is not the right reading. God forbid that I should limit the Holy One of Israel! If one day is with him as a thousand years, so is one moment; and salvation being altogether of mercy and not at all of merit, one last, dim, dying, believing look turned on the cross of Christ, can save a soul on the very brink of — hell passing over into the yawning pit; even as in the camp of Israel ‘it came to pass that if a serpent had bitten any man, when he beheld the serpent of brass, he lived.” True as that is, still the case of the laborers who did not enter the vineyard till the eleventh hour, nor begin to work till the others had begun to think of rest and the coming night, affords no encouragement to procrastination. Admit that these hours, as some think, stand for the different periods of human life — childhood, youth, manhood, and old age, yet let it be observed that the laborers who entered the vineyard at the close of day were never called till then. They had never refused a call — they had no offer till the eleventh hour; and instead of having rejected offers, they accepted the very first they got. None who have read the Bible from childhood, who have heard it preached Sabbath after Sabbath, who have been urged a thousand times by the voices of the dead and of the living to accept of mercy, can reply with these laborers, ‘‘ No man hath hired us.”’ Their case therefore affords us no encouragement to put off what concerns our satvation, I say not a year or a day, but. - even a single hour. ‘These rose, responded instantly, to the call. It is not procrastination, but promptitude, therefore, which this parable teaches — promptitude like his who, sinking, drowning in the swollen river, so soon as a rope, spinning out from one who has hurried to the bank, comes within his reach, with sudden and convulsive gripe closes his hand on it; and, holding on like death, is drawn safe to shore. Do thou likewise. Behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation.

Salvation, though not of works, is for works. — ‘“¢ Show me thy faith by thy works,” is the demand of St. James; ‘“‘Be careful to maintain good works,”’ is the counsel of St. Paul; and the testimony of the whole Bible is, that faith without works is dead. We are not called into the vineyard to sit idle, to fold our hands and go to sleep. They that sleep, sleep in the night; but believers are children of the light and of the day, and have much to do. In amending our habits, in cultivating our hearts, in resisting temptation, in conquering besetting sins, in fighting the good fight, to keep the faith, our banner flying, and, step by step, win the way to heaven, how much have we to dy ? — so much, that an idle, were as great a contradiction in terms, as a dishonest, a lying, or licentious Christian. In respect even of our own interest and spiritual welfare, may we not use the words of Nehemiah, and say to the world when, with winning smiles or brow of care, it solicits our hearts and time, “I have a great work to do, therefore I cannot come down?”’ But no man liveth for himself — no Christian, at least: and in a world bleeding from so many wounds, so brimful of sorrow, and suffering, and oppression, and ignorance, and wrong, and crimes, where ‘sinners perish around us as in a great shipwreck, some dashed on the cruel rocks and others drowning in the waves, and all by their dangers crying, Help, we perish ! — instead of having nothing to do, might we not wish to have a thousand heads to plan, and a thousand hearts to feel, and a thousand hands to work, the zeal of Paul, the wealth of Solomon, and the years of Methuselah? Let us pity the world; and endeavor, praying and working, so to shine that others, seeing our good works, may be guided to heaven, and glorify our Father there — each such a light, or rather lighthouse, as one of England’s bold engineers raised on the reef which owed its dreaded name to the waters that eddied and boiled around it. ‘To save our seamen from a watery grave, their wives from widowhood, their little ones from the miseries and crimes of neglected orphanage, what dangers he faced ! — as on that night when, hurrying on deck, he saw white breakers all around, and above their roar and the shrieks of the tempest, heard. the helmsman cry, For God’s sake, heave hard at that rope, if you mean to save your lives! — and the vessel, with scrimp room to turn, obeyed her helm and rounded off. Example to all who seek a yet higher object — to save men’s souls from ignorance, and vice, and hell — what anxieties he felt to bring his enterprise to a happy issue! On the Hoe headland, where Drake first saw Spain’s proud Armada, alone in the gray of morning, after a tempestuous night, he might be seen looking out, with telescope at his eye, over a raging sea, for his yet unfinished structure; and heard saying, as a tall white pillar of spray suddenly gleaming on the far horizon revealed his work and removed his fears, Thank God, it stands! Would that Christian men and women were as anxious that God would ‘‘ establish the work of their hands;’’ and make each of them, through a loving, active, zealous, pious life, a light shining in a dark place, in a dangerous and perishing world ! — such as that lighthouse to the homeward-bound, whose course it guides, and whose hearts leap with joy when, as it rises to the. eye of the outlook like a star across the waters, the j cry is sung out from the mast-head, and echoed in every cabin, The Hddystone is in sight! Nor do we fear but that they who thus work for God, and Christ, and the good of men, will imitate Smeaton in giving the glory where the glory is due — inscribing on their lives the words Which, as the last work of the mason’s chisel, he had cut on that monument of his genius and humanity, LAUS

DHO — praise to God! A fitting motto these for the heavenly crown; and also for a life on earth which, founded on the Rock of Ages, and built up through grace amid many trials, hardships, and storms of temptation, has been blessed of God to guide the heavenward-bound to their desired haven, and, by shining on their way to Jesus, to save those that were ready to perish!