The passage is long, so bear with me:

Matthew 20:1 “For the kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard. 2 After agreeing with the laborers for the usual daily wage, he sent them into his vineyard. 3 When he went out about nine o’clock, he saw others standing idle in the marketplace; 4 and he said to them, ‘You also go into the vineyard, and I will pay you whatever is right.’ So they went. 5 When he went out again about noon and about three o’clock, he did the same. 6 And about five o’clock he went out and found others standing around; and he said to them, ‘Why are you standing here idle all day?’ 7 They said to him, ‘Because no one has hired us.’ He said to them, ‘You also go into the vineyard.’ 8 When evening came, the owner of the vineyard said to his manager, ‘Call the laborers and give them their pay, beginning with the last and then going to the first.’ 9 When those hired about five o’clock came, each of them received the usual daily wage. 10 Now when the first came, they thought they would receive more; but each of them also received the usual daily wage. 11 And when they received it, they grumbled against the landowner, 12 saying, ‘These last worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat.’ 13 But he replied to one of them, ‘Friend, I am doing you no wrong; did you not agree with me for the usual daily wage? 14 Take what belongs to you and go; I choose to give to this last the same as I give to you. 15 Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or are you envious because I am generous?’ 16 So the last will be first, and the first will be last.”

It’s kind of cheating, because it’s two questions, but I have three observations about the parable and the questions.

(1) God doesn’t act like we think he ought to.

Interestingly, all of the workers in the parable think they know how the landlord is going to act — the all-day workers as well as the latecomers. And they’re all surprised.

(2) God is more generous than we are.

Over and over in Jesus’ parables, we are surprised by the way God works. And when God surprises us, it’s pretty much always because he’s more generous than we are.

He welcomes the Prodigal Son with open arms. He leaves the 99 sheep at home and searches for the one who’s lost. When he throws a banquet, he invites the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind.

We try to figure God out, but as soon as we draw boundaries around him, he breaks out of those boundaries. And when he does so, it’s pretty much always to include the people we would exclude, or to offer compassion to people we would ignore. His grace isn’t just bigger and wider than ours — it’s bigger and wider than we think it ought to be.

(3) God doesn’t explain himself

This is what I find most frustrating about the parable. As someone who struggles to understand God’s will, I really think the parable ought to end with an explanation. Why does he choose to pay the latecomers a full day’s wage? Does he think they deserve it? I’d like an explanation that would help me understand God’s thinking, or figure out how to apply his mindset to other circumstances. But instead of an explanation, we get the question, “Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me?”

At its heart, this is a parable about the sovereignty of God. God’s resources are his own, and he can do with them as he chooses, even if it doesn’t make sense to us. And he doesn’t owe us an explanation. Understanding him would gives us a feeling of control over the situation, and this parable doesn’t give us that option. It leaves God in control, not us.

Did I say I had three reflections? Sorry; I’ve got a fourth one:

(4) An economics of abundance, not scarcity.

The science of economics is based on scarcity of resources: more for you means less for me. This kind of thinking is hard-wired into our brains. But the economics of grace isn’t based on scarcity. God’s resources are not limited. More grace for the latecomers does not mean less grace for the early.

I think God wants us to unclench our grasping fingers and let go of our jealousy. “Are you envious because I am generous?” he asks. How often does God need to ask that question of us? How often do we resist God’s generosity to people we don’t approve of? How often do we feel possessive of God’s grace?

God refuses to be controlled, and he refuses to be limited by our understanding of how he should act. He’s unpredictable. And this parable reminds us that, as uncomfortable as that makes us, that’s good news.

We invite like-minded pastors and elders to a gathering on August 25-27 in Minneapolis to explore joining this movement and help shape its character.

I like the idea of an invitation. I like it, because it calls to mind the ministry of Jesus. But how is this invitation different from Jesus’ invitation?

Jesus says:

When you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed. Although they cannot repay you, you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.
–Luke 14:13

and

Come unto me, all you who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.
–Matthew 11:28-29

The Fellowship’s invitation: “We invite like-minded pastors and elders….” Jesus’s invitation: “Come unto me, all you who are weary and heavy laden.”

The Fellowship cares whether you’re theologically orthodox; Jesus cares whether you’re hurting.

It’s interesting that the Deathly Ill letter talks several times about being a “missional” organization, whereas Jesus rarely talks about being “missional”.

Even the language of being “missional” is inwardly focused. It’s about me — “Who am I? I’m missional!” Whereas people who are truly missional don’t talk about being missional — they talk about the people who are in need. The Fellowship, for all its navel-gazing about being missional, doesn’t really talk about who might be in need or hurting.

Jesus, on the other hand, seems unconcerned about those who are “like-minded”, and focuses rather on those who are excluded or marginalized, those who are weary and heavy laden, and those who are hurting or in need.

Given a choice between these two invitations, I think I’ll take Jesus’s invitation. It’s the one that’s truly Good News.

This makes me smile to myself.

Because it won’t work.

If you wanted to separate blacks from whites (I dunno, for old times’ sake?), that would be easier, because at least white people tend to have white children and black people have black children.

But straight people keep having gay children! So just when you think you’re rid of us – surprise! Another straight Christian family will be confronted with a gay son or daughter, sister or brother. (For what it’s worth, gay people have straight kids, too; it goes both ways.)

You can’t get away from us!

More importantly, it won’t work, because in churches all across this country, people are picking up the Bible and reading it – actually reading it! – and discovering that what they’ve been told simply isn’t true. They’re discovering that God’s love is bigger than what they’ve seen in their churches, and discovering that the condemnation that they’ve been told is clear may not be quite so clear. And the Holy Spirit is opening the hearts and minds of Christians, challenging their preconceived ideas and breaking down barriers.

Here’s an exercise for you: read the whole rest of the Sermon on the Mount, and then fill in the blank with the word you think Jesus is most likely to have used here: “I have not come to abolish the law, but to _________ it.”

Affirm? Maintain? Strengthen? Proclaim? Restore? Obey?

“Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them. For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth disappear, not the smallest letter, not the least stroke of a pen, will by any means disappear from the Law until everything is accomplished….”

If you think about it, “fulfill” is a really strange word to use when talking about the law. You can talk about fulfilling a promise, or fulfilling a prophecy, or even fulfilling a requirement or an obligation. But what would it even mean to fulfill a law?

Promises, prophecies, requirements, and obligations all explicitly look ahead to a future action or event. And they’re all designed to be made obsolete; once a requirement or a promise or an obligation has been fulfilled, it’s no longer in force.

Traffic laws, for example, say to stop when the stoplight is red. I know what it means to obey that law, but what could it possibly mean to fulfill that law? How could I satisfy that law so thoroughly that it was no longer in force? The question hardly makes sense.

It’s also interesting that Jesus contrasts fulfilling the law with abolishing it — interesting, because both verbs imply that the law would be made obsolete! The difference is that fulfilling something makes it obsolete in a way consistent with its goals or intentions.

Also note that Jesus doesn’t quite say “not the smallest letter will disappear from the Law.” Instead, he says “not the smallest letter will disappear from the Law — until everything is accomplished.”

Whatever else you think about this, it’s an unusual turn of phrase, and a pretty dramatic reinterpretation of what the law is and how it might work.

For background, I’d suggest you read the letter itself, here:  http://www.fellowship-pcusa.org/wp-content/uploads/A-Letter-to-the-PCUSA-February-2011-final3.pdf

I’ll address this post as though to the letter’s authors.

What you mean and might as well say

You say, “We are determined to get past rancorous, draining internal disputes that paralyze our common life and ministry.” But clearly you don’t just want to end the fighting. You want to win the fight. If you just wanted to end the fighting, you’d let us gays and lesbians be ordained already.

And I assure you, we want to move beyond these “rancorous, draining internal disputes” at least as much as you do. We, like you, want to “step faithfully, boldly, and joyfully into the work for which God has called us” — if only you would let us.

On Dividing the Church

I believe that Christ is the one true Head of the Church. I find this deeply reassuring, but if I’m honest I’ll admit that I find it also just a little bit annoying. Because, frankly, deep down I kind of wish I were the head of the church. Perhaps you feel the same way sometimes?

One challenge that comes with Christ’s headship is that, as the Head of the Church, he gets to decide who’s in the church. I don’t have a say in the matter.

He is the vine; we are the branches. Our membership depends only on our connection to the vine, not on our relationship to the other branches. But if we are connected to the vine, then we are also connected to the other branches, whether we like it or not.

This is a problem, because it means I’m engrafted into a plant where some of the other branches disagree with me; some think I don’t belong; some, frankly, want me dead! What kind of f-ed up system is that?!

Even more troubling is Paul’s statement that every part of the body needs every other part – the eyes need the elbow, the spleen needs the vertebrae, the capillaries need the ears.

And those of you who wish I would just go away: you need me. And even more troublingly, I (apparently) need you.

I have no idea what that means, and part of me really hates it. But it’s true. And we both need to deal with it.

So, would we be better off going our separate ways? Well it certainly would be easier; you’re right about that! But better? No. I don’t think so.

And anyway, we don’t get to decide; we’re not the head. We’re just different parts of one body. And like it or not, we’re stuck with each other.

First blog posts are a sort of genre of their own — a dreadfully dull genre, I’m afraid — wherein I introduce myself and state all of my plans and goals for the blog, before I (a) utterly neglect the blog, or (b) take it in a completely different direction.

If you’re reading this, I assume you probably already know me in real life; I’m not sure why else you would be here. But in case you don’t, here’s what you’ll need to know to make sense of this: I’m a Christian (Presbyterian, to be specific, and PC(USA) to be even more specific), and I’m gay.

Oh, and I was on Jeopardy! once. But that was a long time ago.

I expect that this blog will be some combination of:

• Thoughts in response to sermons I hear. Rebuttals, perhaps, or variations on a theme, or the sermon I would have preached had I been given the same text. If that’s what you’re looking for, look for the tag “sermon thoughts”
• Other thoughts on faith, or rebuttals to other things I’ve heard Christians say.
• Thoughts about faith and sexuality.
• And I really ought to put back my description of my experience on Jeopardy! I had it posted on the old version of this site, but took it down when I migrated to blog format. I’ve been meaning to repost it, but haven’t gotten around to it. Please remind me, if I haven’t done it in the next month or two, would you? Thanks.

If you need to get a hold of me, my email address is [my first initial] + [my last name] at [the domain name of this blog, minus the www].

Is that everything? All right, let’s begin then.