Turn and Live

There are certain phases children go through as they grow up, and one that my three year old hasn’t quite got to yet, but I know is coming, is when the recurring cry is “That’s not fair!” We learn to say it quite young, don’t we? Someone gets a bigger slice of cake. Someone else gets to stay up later. Someone pushes ahead of us in line. And although we grow out of being bothered about some of these things, we never quite grow out of that internal sense of unfairness. We learn to express it more politely, or learn to internalise it, but the feeling remains. ‘I’ve done my bit. I’ve followed the rules. Why should someone else get something they haven’t earned?’

Now of course, sometimes that instinct matters deeply. Unfairness can cause real suffering, and we should challenge it when it stands in the way of loving God or love of neighbour. But sometimes our concern about fairness is rather more personal. We’re very good at quietly keeping score. And we’re particularly alert to any situation where someone else seems to be getting a better deal than us!

In our reading from the prophet Ezekiel, the people have a complaint: “The way of the Lord is unfair.” And what, exactly, is unfair? Among other things, that God is willing to let people change. Someone who has done wrong can turn around, begin to live differently, and find life. Their past does not have to determine their future. You might think that would be good news for everyone. After all, we’ve all done plenty of things wrong, and will continue to do so. But we can imagine why someone might object. What about everything that person has done? Should they really be allowed a fresh start? Especially if we would rather see them punished? What about consequences?

We know what that internal voice sounds like. The affronted indignant voice posing as logical rationality. That childish something within us wants to shout: “But it isn’t FAIR!”

Now of course, when it comes to ourselves, we want God to take our circumstances into account. We rationalise and explain, why we lost our temper, why we were unkind, why we failed to do something we should have done. We tell ourselves and God that there was a reason, and our worst moments should be overlooked. But when it comes to somebody else, we can be surprisingly attached to their worst moment. We remember what they said. We know what they did. And if God is going to welcome them, we may feel that God ought at least to consult us first.

But God’s answer in Ezekiel reveals something essential about God’s heart: “I have no pleasure in the death of anyone.” For all the talk of judgement and destruction we find in the Bible, God makes it crystal clear what is actually desirable, holding out this invitation: “Turn, then, and live.” Turn, and be forgiven. So here we have it. God is extremely unfair, by our measurements. God wants restoration for every individual, no matter who they are or what they’ve done. God wants people to come home.

Sounds good in theory right? But it somehow makes us squirm.

Then Jesus brings that same uncomfortable generosity into today’s Gospel. Of the two sons who are asked to go and work, one refuses, but later changes his mind and goes. The other gives an initial respectful answer: “I go, sir”, but then never actually turns up.

Then as he often does, Jesus applies this parable to the people standing there listening. Jesus tells the religious leaders, to their frustration, that the tax collectors and prostitutes are going into God’s kingdom ahead of them. People they had dismissed and written off in their minds, had listened to God’s call and changed direction. It must have been infuriating! You can imagine their internal dialogue so clearly - ‘We’ve devoted ourselves to religion. We know the Scriptures. We’ve tried to live properly. And these people are going ahead of us?!’

But as always, God creates space for hope. The first son’s refusal is not the end of his story, because he can and does change his mind. And surely the invitation remains for the second son too: you can still go into the vineyard.

That’s what can feel so unfair to us about God’s mercy. God takes our choices seriously, but doesn’t ever let our past close off the possibility of a new beginning. There is always the invitation to turn and live.

It isn’t that wrongdoing doesn’t matter; Ezekiel is clear about that. There may still be consequences, wounds to tend, and trust to rebuild. But nobody has to forever remain the person they have been, because God takes sin seriously enough to offer a way out of it through forgiveness.

The Bible is crammed full of examples of this kind of generosity, and people responding with the cry that it’s not fair. Jonah runs away from God, and is later angry when God is merciful to a repentant Nineveh. The older brother of the prodigal son is resentful that his brother gets a welcome feast. The crowd following Jesus is horrified that he chooses to go and eat with Zacchaeus the tax collector.

But our tendency to have different standards to God is an opportunity for our growth. In our beautiful reading from the letter to the Phillipians, Paul asks us to look to Jesus, and to work on embracing divine generosity. “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus”, he says. Rather than holding tightly to our scorecards and measuring everything by our own assumptions of fairness, we are to ask, ‘what might help this person find life?’ ‘How might God be extending love and forgiveness?’ Paul exhorts us to follow Christ, to give up all of our measurements and judgements, and take the place of a servant.

And that’s pretty hard for us, especially when we feel overlooked or hurt, as is often the case when our internal cry of unfairness calls out. But Paul also gives us the wonderful promise of hope, that God is at work in us, shaping even our willingness to change. We are to practise generosity, and at the same time trust that God can grow in us the love and forgiveness we want to model. The opportunity to start afresh every day, every moment, is held out to you and me, every time we realise we need to try again. To reorient ourselves to Christ again, the one who so willingly let go of equality with God, in order to be among us, one of us, to love us with every fiber of his being.

So we may catch ourselves grumbling that someone has been forgiven too quickly, or welcomed too warmly, but the Father is always calling his children; and this love, which can feel unfair when it embraces someone whose flaws we see clearly, is offered to every one of us. And the truth is, we all need it just as much as each other. So will we turn towards God? Will we welcome the fact that other people can turn towards God too? Love, grace, and forgiveness are always held out with open hands.

Turn, and live!

Amen.

Ezekiel 18:1-4,25-32; Philippians 2:1-13; Matthew 21:23-32