“Enough” Preached on September 24th, 2017 At Wollaston Congregational Church Scripture: Matthew 20:1-16 In my family, when I was a child, we almost always sat down together for meals cooked from scratch by my hardworking mom. When we were eating something that I liked, dessert, maybe cake or luscious baked potatoes from the oven with butter, I’d give a sideways glance at my brother’s plate. “It’s not fair!” I’d burst out, if the portions looked uneven, “He has more than me!” “You have enough,” my mom would remind me, “don’t look at your brother’s plate, you only need to look at your own plate!” My parents were children of World War II depravations and they insisted that we cleaned our plates, regardless of whether we liked our food. When I was very young that was a struggle. But as I grew older and overcame my childhood food aversions, I would clean my plate and hope for more. I was irritated when others at the table ate more slowly and still had a tasty morsel left when I was done. I never felt as though I had enough. Things got worse when family members and friends started making remarks about my appetite, and my chubby pre-adolescent body. My mom became fearful that I had inherited a disorder that caused my dad to become overweight as a child, and so she restricted my food: no dessert except on the weekends; one small piece of potato (my favorite). “Eat fruit,” she would insist, “instead of cookies or cake.” I was not underfed. I always had enough to eat. I had everything I needed and more, and yet I didn’t seem to be able to stop comparing my serving with that of others. I was always figuratively “looking at their plate” and seeing that their serving was more than mine. With these thoughts in mind, let’s turn to our gospel reading for today. Jesus and his traveling band of followers, the disciples, are approaching Jerusalem. The dynamic in the group is getting a little tense. Jesus is warning what may happen to him when they reach the holy city. Perhaps he will be arrested, maybe tortured, possibly even executed. Their mission is beginning to sound less exciting than before and much more dangerous. Peter, one of Jesus’ closest disciples begins to inquire, how will they be rewarded for their loyalty? They have given up all they have, their livelihoods and their families, to follow Jesus from the beginning. Surely God has a special reward in store for them. And so, Jesus, the teacher, tells a story. It’s one of those “the kingdom is like …” parables. A landowner has a substantial vineyard in need of tending. It is an important crop. Grapes provide the wine that is in high demand in first century Judea for weddings, Passover suppers and the like. And so, he goes out at sunrise to find day-laborers willing to work in the vineyard that day. He finds a gang of early-risers in the marketplace. He settles the going rate, a fair day’s work for a fair day’s pay and they go off together ready to get started. For some reason, just a few hours later, the landowner is back in the marketplace. Perhaps picking up supplies for his household, or maybe realizing he needs more workers. He sees another group of laborers standing idle, and this time without any fixed amount settled, agrees to hire them too. It is still morning, there is still plenty of work to be done. The restless landowner is back in the marketplace, at noon and again at 3 pm. Maybe there is a vendor who sells a tasty snack he enjoys. Or perhaps he likes to catch up on the news and gossip with the other employers who hang out there. Each time the story is the same, he hires more laborers. This is must be bumper crop of grapes! But the strangest thing happens when he arrives at the marketplace at about 5 o’clock. The sun is already beginning to set. There’s little time left for work. The merchants move lethargically, packing up their wares, ready to hit the road. The shoppers have gone home to prepare for supper. And yet, there are still others standing idle who have not been hired. The landowner calls them over to follow him to the vineyard. Soon evening draws in, and the landowner has his manager begin to settle up for the day. It’s odd that he chooses to pay the last hired workers first, in full sight of the ones who have been working all day. Especially as he pays them the same: the usual daily wage, enough to eat and provide for their families for the one day. Naturally, the first hired workers expect more than those who were hired last. They have been laboring all day long. Even though they receive the agreed upon wages, they compare what they received with the others. Now it does not seem like enough. They complain. “Are you envious because I am generous?” the landowner asks, “take your wage and go on your way.” He has no interest in comparisons. As I grew up I realized that comparisons with others and the cry of “not fair” were not attractive. I tried to do better. As my mother had reminded me as a child, I ought to be grateful for what I had. My focus should be my own plate and not my brother’s. So why, at times when I was low or upset, did my mind return to the thought that I did not have enough? And when I felt that way, why did I often feel a deep physical hunger for more food? As a young mother, the “not enough”s would plague me. I did not have enough time, for my family and myself. I was always tired, I did not get enough sleep. My home was never tidy or clean enough. I did not get enough exercise, my body was not thin enough, fit enough, or strong enough. I didn’t get through my work quickly enough or well enough, I was not capable enough. Worst of all, I was not grateful enough for what I did have. When I compared myself with others, I thought they had the things I was lacking. I confessed my ingratitude and asked God to heal me of it every week in church. But the feelings of not enough returned on a regular basis, although I tried to squash them down. One day a wise spiritual leader said this to me: “When you are examining your feelings, and something that seems negative, like envy or anger, comes up, stay with that feeling. Instead of dismissing it, or trying to push it down, ask yourself ‘what deep need is prompting this feeling?’ ” This gave me an entirely new lens, with which to look at my feelings of “not enough.” Sitting with the feeling of ingratitude, the experience of shame about my pre-adolescent weight gain came flooding back. I remembered the shame of visits to the doctor to be weighed, and the time when I was prescribed “diet pills.” I remembered the time I snuck into the larder and ate a whole pie and how unlovable I felt afterwards. No one ever asked where the pie had gone. I remembered the taunts of the boys at school. I wasn’t much more than average build (thanks to those diet pills) … but they taunted the girls just because they could. When I was on the receiving end, I felt unlovable yet again. Author Brené Brown identifies one of the greatest human needs as being a sense of love and belonging. It follows that one of the greatest human fears is that of being unlovable and unworthy of belonging. Brown writes about our culture of “never enough”, or scarcity, in the book “Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent and Lead.” Our culture of scarcity feeds the fear of unworthiness of love and belonging. We fear that we do not have enough of the qualities we think will make us lovable. [1] This works very well for advertisers who are trying to sell us the next “best thing.” If we think we have enough, we will not go out shopping for their products. In her work, Brown has noticed that people readily fill in the blanks when they hear the phrase Never …. enough: How would you fill in the blank for yourself? … Never good enough Never perfect enough Never thin enough Never powerful enough Never successful enough Never smart enough Never certain enough Never safe enough Never special enough? One of the key components of scarcity is comparison, according to Brown. Perhaps you felt you were good enough at your job, until the new hotshot came in and showed you up at your department meeting. Or perhaps you felt you were in-shape enough, until the woman, who must be a model, set her mat next to yours at your yoga class. Perhaps you felt quite successful enough, until your brother rolled up to the family reunion in his fancy sports car, bragging about his latest deal. We feel scarcity the minute we start making comparisons. Brown identifies a quality she calls “wholeheartedness.” Wholehearted people operate from a perspective of “enough.” They understand themselves to be worthy of love. When I discovered that shame about my body was source of my feelings of “not enough” I was able to move closer to a place of “enough” … to recognize that God has enough love for me. In God’s eyes I am worthy. In God’s eyes, I have enough, I do enough and I am enough. In Jesus’ story, the longest serving workers in the vineyard compare what they have with those who were hired last. They determine that they have not received enough. Yet they have received what was agreed and it is enough: it is the daily wage. It is enough to feed the laborers and their families their daily bread. On Wednesday evening, before beginning their session of canning preserves for the fall fair, I gathered with some of the women of the church. We read today’s scripture together, following the guidelines of what is called an “African Bible Study.” This study includes meditating on the passage and its meaning for our lives. The group concluded the study by saying the Lord’s Prayer together … It is the prayer beginning with “Our Father” that we will say later in our service. As we prayed, I was struck by two phrases and how they are echoed in this story: God’s Kingdom Come, God’s will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us today our daily bread. Jesus began his story, with “the kingdom of heaven is like…” When the kingdom of heaven rules on Earth, it will be like the vineyard of the generous landowner. Everyone will have enough. No matter how late they come to work. That is how lovable we all are in our generous God’s sight. And so there is no need for comparisons, no need for scarcity thinking. In invite you to say with me: I have enough I do enough I am enough May this truth sink deeply into our hearts. Amen. [1] Brené Brown, Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead, (Penguin Random House, New York, 2014)
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