True Leadership and Radical Generosity – God’s Upside-Down Kingdom

Judg 9:6-15, Psalm: 20, Mt 20:1-16

Dear Sisters and Brothers in Christ, Grace and Peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

This morning, Scripture places before us two visions. One is a warning, a portrait of a world that is crumbling. The other is an invitation, a glimpse into a reality so generous it can scandalize us. Through a fable from the time of the Judges and a parable from the lips of Christ, the Holy Spirit invites us to see differently, to think differently, and to live differently.

First, from the book of Judges, we hear Jotham’s tale of the trees. Imagine the noble olive, the fruitful fig, the generous vine. These trees are rich with purpose. They are filled with oil, sweetness, and wine that cheers the hearts of God and people. And when offered power, they offer a stunning refusal. “Should I give up my purpose,” they ask, “just to wave loftily over the others?” They know their greatness isn’t in ruling, but in serving—in pouring out their God-given gifts for the good of the world.

Then, there’s the bramble. The thornbush. It offers no fruit, no nourishment. Its offer is all threat and insecurity: “If you act in good faith, come take refuge in my shade. But if not, let fire blaze forth!” This, friends, is the spirit of leadership that seeks itself. It is ambition disguised as authority. It is control masquerading as care. It is the cancer of careerism that Pope Francis warns us of, where a shepherd thinks not of the flock, but of his own advancement. The bramble’s reign is built on the threat of fire—of conflict, betrayal, and destruction. It promises shade but delivers only thorns, and it is, as St. Augustine said, good for nothing but burning.

So let’s ask ourselves: Where in our lives are we tempted by the way of the bramble? In our homes, our jobs, our parish groups? Do we seek positions to serve, or to be seen? To wash feet, or to wave over others? The Spirit calls us today to reject that thorny, empty path. To be like the olive, the fig, and the vine. To find our deepest joy not in being above anyone, but in pouring ourselves out for everyone.

And just as we feel the conviction of that warning, Jesus meets us with a truth so beautiful it breaks our worldly calculators. He tells of a Landowner—our God—who is relentlessly generous. He goes out at dawn, at nine, at noon, at three, and even at the eleventh hour. He finds those the world has overlooked, those standing idle, and He offers them purpose. “You too go into my vineyard.”

Then comes the scandal. At day’s end, the last to arrive receives a full day’s wage. A denarius. The full measure of salvation, the complete gift of eternal life, was placed in their hands. And those who worked all day, who bore the heat and the burden, they grumble. “You have made them equal to us!” And in their complaint, we hear our own. Our innate sense of fairness, our ledger of merit, our spiritual resume that we think earns God’s love.

But the Landowner’s response is gentle and devastating: “Friend, I am not being unfair to you. Did you not agree to a denarius? Take what is yours and go. Am I not allowed to be generous? Are you envious because I am good?”

This is the heart of our faith, the glorious, shocking economy of grace! Salvation is not a wage you earn by the sweat of your spiritual brow. It is not a reward for the longest prayer or the most perfect attendance. It is a gift. A free, outrageous, undignified, breathtaking gift from a God whose goodness and generosity know no bottom, no limit, no end. It is the “favor, the free and undeserved help” the Catechism speaks of.

This is the truth that set St. Thérèse of Lisieux free, that led her to cry out, “My vocation is Love!” She knew her confidence was not in her own merits, but in the ocean of His mercy.

So where do you find yourself in this story? Are you a first-hour worker, wrestling with a hint of entitlement, comparing your journey to another’s? Let it go. Cast aside the spiritual scorecard. Or are you an eleventh-hour soul? Burdened by shame, feeling you’ve arrived too late, that you could never be worthy of His full embrace? Hear the Good News! The denarius is for you! Reach out and take it! His generosity is your inheritance.

These two visions are one message. They reveal the logic of God’s Kingdom, where true power is found on your knees with a towel and a basin, and where salvation is found with open, empty hands, ready to receive a gift.

Dear Sisters and Brothers in Christ, beware the barrenness of the bramble. And rejoice in the generosity of the Landowner. The God who condemns self-seeking pride is the same God who is walking into the marketplace of your life at this very hour. He is calling your name. He is offering you meaningful work in His vineyard and the unfathomable, scandalous, glorious gift of His grace. All He asks is that you trust Him. That you receive His love. And that you go, and love likewise. Amen.