“There is an appointed time for everything,” we hear in our first reading from Ecclesiastes.
“A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to uproot the plant. A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance.”
We might add today, “A time to be close, and a time to quarantine; a time to go to school and a time to learn online; a time to be employed and a time to be unemployed; a time to be united and a time to be divided.”
There are many times – or seasons – in life.
If COVID’s taught us anything, it’s how little control we have over them.
The challenge is finding something beautiful in every season, particularly in the present moment because it’s all we have.
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How can we see something beautiful in America today?
Millions are awakening to a life very different from the one they knew, whether they’ve lost everything to wildfires, floods, or COVID.
For them – and maybe for us – it’s a bitter season.
So, where’s the beauty?
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Consider the hands of doctors and nurses caring for the sick; the scientists searching for a vaccine; the fourteen-hour days of firefighters saving lives and homes that are not their own; the volunteers organizing post-flood disaster relief.
And all the good we do for others – gestures that often go unnoticed.
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In every season of life, there’s beauty to be found. There are good people doing good things, including us.
What, then, might we do for a neighbor in need today?
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Even the smallest gesture of kindness can make a bitter season a little sweeter.
There’s an old Chinese proverb: “Not one family can put a sign outside their home with the words – No Problems Here.”
Every family – even the Holy Family – experiences some level of conflict.
In Jesus’ case, he experienced conflict from wanting to do his Father’s will.
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For example, Mary and Joseph scold Jesus when he’s twelve years old after they lose him in the Temple. When they find him, he’s busy speaking with the religious scholars of his day.
Instead of apologizing for getting separated from them, Jesus simply asks them, “Did you not know that I must be about my Father’s business?”
To Mary and Joseph, his words probably sounded strange, cryptic, or confusing at best. But it was a sign to them that Jesus favored his Father’s will even over his human family.
Then during his public ministry some 20 years later, Jesus’ family tries stopping him from preaching, because his words were controversial.
He taught his followers to love their enemies, to turn the other cheek, to forgive seventy-seven times.
Some people thought he was crazy. Even his family did at times! But it didn’t stop Jesus from preaching – and doing – his Father’s will.
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Experiencing conflict or opposition shouldn’t stop us from doing our Father’s will, either.
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For example, being ordained a priest hasn’t always been a popular decision among those I love. But the Lord’s call to me was clear, so I’ve followed him.
What about you? When have you experienced conflict or discomfort as a result of doing the Lord’s will?
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Maybe your faith led you to make an unpopular career change; maybe it helped determine who you married; maybe it led you to give someone who hurt you another chance.
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This is what makes us Jesus’ sisters and brothers, he says, doing his Father’s will.
There’s a diner nearby that I used to frequent with a friend.
Nearly every time we went, we’d drive past a group of middle-aged men standing on a nearby street corner.
I often wondered, “These guys look like fathers, husbands, and grandfathers. Why are they standing idly in the middle of the day?”
Then it hit me: they’re waiting for work.
It seemed like a strange idea to me, that someone would have wait for work. But it’s an age-old practice, one Jesus himself may have witnessed.
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In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells a parable about laborers standing idly in a marketplace. I imagine them waiting for work, just like the men I saw on the street corner.
One by one, the landowners pass them by, looking for the strongest, the youngest, the most able-bodied.
As the day progresses, others are chosen. But by 5 o’clock some are still left behind.
Why weren’t they chosen?
Perhaps they were the oldest, the scrawniest, the unskilled, the loser. Still, they showed up looking for work, even if their chances of being picked were slim.
What else were they to do?
They were the lowest rung in society. But like every other human being, they needed to eat. Some were also dads and husbands. They had mouths to feed, children to clothe, a family to provide for.
Imagine the hope they must’ve felt when they saw that generous landowner entering the marketplace a final time. “Will he pick me?” They might’ve wondered.
He picked them all. And he paid everyone equally.
It seems unfair that those who worked all day were paid the same as those who did little. But the landowner’s concern was making sure the sun didn’t set on an empty stomach.
He gave them, in Jesus’ words, “their daily bread.”
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If we apply this parable to America, who are the people chosen first? Are we among them?
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And who’s chosen last?
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This is where the Lord is directing our attention this week: to the weak, the unskilled, the poor.
Those chosen last.
I’m not just referring to those born into cyclical poverty, but also those whose lives have been turned upside down by recent natural disasters.
Entire towns have been incinerated by the wildfires out West. Beach communities have been submerged under water by hurricanes in the South.
Millions around the country remain unemployed, underemployed, or infected by COVID.
While many might’ve been capable of providing for their families before these disasters struck, now they’re dependent upon the generosity of others.
Do we have an obligation to help them? Or, using biblical language, “Are we our brother’s keeper?”
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“Whatever you do to the least of these, my brothers and sisters,” Jesus says, “you do to me.”
This is why the Lord invites us to act like the landowner.
In the morning, he employs the able-bodied, because there’s an inherent dignity to work. Those who can work should work.
But by evening, he makes sure that everyone is given a living wage – even those who did almost nothing – so that no one goes home hungry.
This landowner gives freely from the goodness of his heart.
Shouldn’t we?
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But what, concretely, can we do? How can we provide for those temporarily in need?
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Let me offer just a few suggestions:
Some of us have started dining out again. Tip well. There’s a good chance your server has been unemployed – or underemployed – for the last few months.
A few extra dollars may go a long away.
Look through your wardrobe. After six months of quarantine, we may have some extra clothing that can be donated. Remember, some families just lost everything.
Teach your children and grandchildren about the importance of service. Take them to a soup kitchen; allow them to interact with the less fortunate. It may broaden their perspective.
Young people are the leaders of tomorrow.
And it may be a little too early to start thinking about the holidays, but when you do, earmark extra for the poor. Give them their daily bread.
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“For whatever you do to these, the least of my brothers and sisters,” Jesus says, “you do to me.”
