Handling the Truth

Series: Pentecost

Speaker: The Rev'd Emily Griffin

“Tell all the truth but tell it slant.” So writes the poet Emily Dickinson. That seems like dangerous advice these days, when all many of us want from our politicians and news media is the “unslanted” truth. We don’t want them to decide what we can handle, particularly when it comes to our health or safety. Those weren’t necessarily Emily Dickinson’s concerns, of course. But why offer this advice at all? Well, according to her, “the Truth must dazzle gradually or every man be blind.” In other words, there are some truths - particularly about our own attitudes and behavior - that are hard to face. These truths can blind us when we look at them head on. A story can sometimes give us the courage to approach our mirrors more directly and then begin to change what we see.

Jesus knew this. That’s part of why he told parables. So did the writer of our reading from Jonah. Both of today’s readings are parables of a kind. Let’s start with Jonah. Most of us know the first part of the story. God tells the prophet Jonah to go to Nineveh, the capital of Israel’s enemy, Assyria. The message: Repent, or your city will be destroyed. We’re not told at first why Jonah flees, but he does and ends up getting swallowed by a great fish. After three days in the fish’s belly (remember: parable, if not satire), Jonah asks God for a second chance, receives it, and then goes and reluctantly does his job. The people of Nineveh do repent and immediately change their ways. So, God decides not to destroy their city and gives them a second chance, too. It’s at this point that we pick up our story. 

Here we find out why Jonah never wanted to go to Nineveh. He wants them to be punished for their crimes. When God decides to be generous instead, Jonah can’t accept it. He doesn’t want to live in a world where bad guys aren’t punished. When we’re honest, neither do we. Think about those we consider our enemies. Do we really want those who have harmed us or our country not to face God’s punishment? In the shadow of a 9/11 anniversary, in light of the upcoming election and whom we think should pay for their crimes, just how generous do we want or expect God to be? 

Jesus doesn’t resolve these questions in today’s Gospel; he extends them. In his parable, a landowner hires a group of day laborers at various points throughout the day and at the end pays them all the same amount – the usual daily wage. Those who worked the longest see this and complain because others who didn’t work as long receive just as much. Here the uncomfortable questions start. The landowner asks: “Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or are you envious because I’m generous?” We don’t like to think of this story in terms of envy, of course; no matter our response, we think we’re being fair. But before we judge anyone in this story, it may help to consider how our own work lives shape what we see. 

Think about it for a moment. Who do you identify with in this story? Those of us at the top of the economic food chain might not appreciate anyone second guessing our payroll decisions; we might identify with the landowner and think there’s no case for injustice here at all. For those of us who work for someone else, though, and have a steady work history, or those of us who know what it feels like to work all day in the heat, we might see ourselves in the early workers and think it’s only right for them to question their employer’s fairness. But then there are those of us who are unemployed right now or whose hours are never guaranteed. Sometimes what we’re paid bears no relation to what we actually need. We might identify with those hired last and praise the owner’s generosity as an expression of ultimate justice. My point: what we see – what we think is generous – depends in part on where we stand and whom we’re listening to.

Some might say that none of this economic reality here on earth matters in the end, that the parable is about the kingdom of heaven. So it is. But if the kingdom of heaven potentially includes all of us, then all of our perspectives matter – and no one gets to claim all of the truth. If we’re ever going to hear, much less “tell all the truth,” then we need to account for everyone. 

Putting the uncomfortable truths of these parables together, the real questions begin to emerge: Are we in any position to set conditions on God’s generosity – to say, with Jonah, who does or doesn’t deserve a second chance from God? Or in terms of Jesus’ parable, how exactly is it unjust for everyone to get what they need? What do we as followers of Jesus lose by God being generous? Is a God bound by our paltry expectations of fairness even worth serving?

These are big questions, and we’re not going to resolve them all here. But there is some good news to hold onto. In an age where every attempt at truth is questioned and no narrative is accepted by all, we have not been abandoned to an endless game of self-deception and lies. When we read Scripture and encounter passages like these, we can find the courage to look in the mirror honestly and begin to change the only people we’re able to change - ourselves. We can look at our attitudes about who deserves what and stop trying to be God’s quality control. We can think about how we treat those whose work stories don’t match our own and begin to act differently. When we give up the need to set policy for God, when we face honestly the limits of our own compassion and generosity, and when we listen deeply to each other with an openness to a God who is bigger than all of us – then, yes, it turns out, we can handle the truth. Amen.