St. John’s Lutheran Church
Albany, New York
27 September 2026 + The Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost
Proper 21 / Lectionary 26a
Matthew 21:23-32; Ezekiel 18:1-4, 25-32; Philippians 2:1-13
The Rev. Josh Evans
You can almost hear the echoes
of the laborers from the first shift in last week’s parable,
murmuring under their breath that the last to arrive are getting paid the same:
It’s not fair…
You can almost hear the echoes
of Jonah’s little pity party under the withered bush,
protesting at the wideness of God’s mercy for those who don’t “deserve” it:
It’s not fair…
It’s not fair,
the people of Ezekiel’s day complain before God:
Why should we have to pay for what our ancestors did?
[Fill in the blank sin] wasn’t our fault…
It’s not fair,
the elders in the temple almost certainly grumble
in response to Jesus’ stunning declaration about “tax collectors and prostitutes”:
Why should “those people” get in ahead of us?
They don’t belong…
So you think you’ve got it all figured out?
Think again.
The proverb that stands at the beginning of our reading from Ezekiel
was a common understanding of justice:
The children will pay for the sins of their parents,
and subsequent generations are “punished”
for the misdeeds of those who came before them.
For the exiled audience of Ezekiel’s time,
it was more than just a way of understanding their present circumstances.
It was also an easy out.
A way of passing the blame.
They thought they had it all figured out:
It’s not fair.
Think again.
That’s not how it works:
“How is my way unfair?” (says the Lord).
You don’t get to play the blame game anymore.
The “children” are just as complicit as the “parents.”
Each person will be judged by their own merit.
It’s admittedly a pretty law-heavy passage,
and there’s not initially a whole lot of good news here…
…but that’s not where it ends:
God is a God who desires life.
A God who takes no pleasure
in the death or demise of any of their children.
A God who cared so deeply for the people of Nineveh
that God ultimately spared the city –
as though that was God’s plan all along –
so that they might live.
“How is my way unfair?” (says the Lord).
My way is life.
Not that it lets them off the hook.
God confronts the exiles with their own complicity
in their present circumstances –
and challenges them to do better:
“Turn, then, and live!”
In other words:
Repentance is about more than just what we say.
It’s about what we do
and how we live.
Fast forward to Matthew:
Jesus tells us a parable of two children –
one who says he won’t do what his father asks
but ends up doing it anyway,
and one who says he will
but ends up not doing it.
And then the stunning conclusion:
“Truly I tell you,
the tax collectors and the prostitutes
are going into the kingdom of God ahead of you.”
The ones you don’t like,
the ones onto whom it’s easy to pass judgment and assign blame,
the ones who, by all appearances, don’t “belong,”
are the ones who get it.
It’s not fair…
Jesus’s parable,
like grace itself,
is challenging.
It challenges the self-righteous arrogance
of those who think they have it all figured out.
Those who, like the second child in the parable,
say what they’re supposed to but don’t live like it.
Those who think they have no need of grace
because they haven’t done anything “wrong.”
Of course, that’s not how this works.
That’s not how any of this works.
Instead, God calls us to repentance:
“Turn, then, and live!”
God calls us to life –
with a new heart
and a new spirit.
God calls the exiles in Ezekiel
to recognize their own complicity,
and Jesus’ parable shows us two children,
neither of whom technically do what their father asks.
We, with them, stand in need of grace.
And we, with them, are met with a God
who yearns for us to live.
Here is an invitation to grace:
a recognition of our brokenness, our shortcomings, our failures,
and a God who offers us life –
not according to our merits,
or whether or not we think we “deserve” it,
or out of any sense of “fairness,”
but out of God’s abundant mercy.
The writer Anne Lamott puts it this way:
“I do not at all understand the mystery of grace –
only that it meets us where we are
but does not leave us where it found us.”
Grace doesn’t leave us where it found us.
Grace calls us into a new way of being and living:
to practice a self-emptying love and radical humility,
as Paul encourages the Philippians,
that seeks the well-being of all
instead of casting judgment or blame.
It’s not fair…
the laborers murmur.
It’s not fair…
Jonah protests.
It’s not fair…
Ezekiel’s audience complains.
It’s not fair…
the temple elders grumble.
And they’re right.
It’s not fair.
It’s grace.
Grace that offers abundance,
ensuring there is enough for all.
Grace that relents from punishment,
abounding in steadfast love.
Grace that calls us to life,
offering forgiveness without reservation.
Grace that welcomes “those people,”
making room for everyone.
Grace:
It’s still not fair.
Thanks be to God.
