We are in the one hundredth anniversary of the first World War at the moment, so I would like to take you back to an event that happened in the middle of it. When Emperor Franz-Josef I of Austria died in 1916, his was the last of the extravagant imperial funerals.
A processional of dignitaries and elegantly dressed court personages escorted the casket,draped in the black and gold imperial colors.
To the accompaniment of a military band's processional and by the light of torches, the somber group descended the stairs of the Capuchin Monastery in Vienna.
At the bottom was a great iron door leading to the Hapsburg family crypt.
Behind the door was the Cardinal-Archbishop of Vienna.
The officer in charge followed the prescribed ceremony, established centuries before.
"Open!" he cried.
"Who goes there?" responded the Cardinal.
"We bear the remains of his Imperial and Apostolic Majesty, Franz-Josef I, by the grace of God Emperor of Austria, King of Hungary, Defender of the faith..." blah of blah's, rhubarb of rhubarb's... the officer continued to list the Emperor's thirty-seven titles.
"We know him not," replied the Cardinal "Who goes there?"
The officer spoke again, this time using a much abbreviated and less ostentatious title reserved for times of expediency.
"We know him not," the Cardinal said again.
All these titles but the door remained barred. But before we find how his Imperial and Apostolic Majesty, Franz-Josef I, by the grace of God Emperor of Austria, King of Hungary, Defender of the faith got to be buried, let’s think for a moment about our bible story.
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Early in the morning a landowner goes down to the market square to hire some workers to harvest his grapes. It’s got to be done quickly or the weather may turn and the harvest will be ruined.
So he goes looking for workers - and they are only too keen to take the work. He promises them a fair day’s wage and without even asking what that will mean, they take it. The first few hours are OK, but by nine it is getting very hot. The vineyards are on steep slopes and it is hard work. The man goes back to the marketplace and hires some more workers who again are only too keen to come.
The labourers are sweating and working and by midday they are very tired and very hot - will they get all the crop in? So the landowner goes back to the market place and hires some more workers. And again at three O clock.
And now it’s five O clock. The earliest workers have been working in the fields for 11 long hours. In only an hour’s time they are going put down their tools, get paid, go home, put their feet up before a grueling day tomorrow.
And then this crazy landowner goes back to the marketplace and hires more labourers. There’s only an hour to go - what’s the point?
Finally the gong is struck at 6pm and they come forward to get paid. Now there are conventions about this. You pay the people who have been working longest first, so that they can get home and put their feet up. It’s only fair….
But then he calls first the newbies who have been there an hour. Well we are not happy are we brother?
Then we see what he is giving them - a denarius - that’s normally a full days wage. “If he is giving that to those who have only been there an hour what’s he going to give us” think the first hour labourers.
Smiles on their faces they put out their hand for their pay and ….
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Well we will come back to how they feel - but first a story from when I was a trainee accountant. I was working in the tax department and the other trainees were all working in audit.
And the end of the first year we all got a pay rise. And I was very pleased getting my pay rise. And then we went out to the pub together… And some of them start talking about what they have got, - now that can’t be true - I look at my letter again and I realise that my colleagues in audit have got twice the pay rise that I got in the tax department. Well you can imagine how I feel. It is not fair! So...
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But before we find out what happens next, let’s go to a market in a third world country - Uganda, Sierra Leone, Bangladesh. And a foreman has come to pick labourers to pick the cotton crop. And what sort of people does he choose? It’s like when you are school and you are made captain of the football team and you have to pick who is on your team. Who do you pick first? The tallest. The strongest. Those with the most obvious skill and ability and there is always someone who get’s left and doesn’t get picked….
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Imagine a church - any church up and down the country - and we are human so the same thing happens everywhere. Mrs Bloggs has been here for 87 years so of course she runs the mother’s union. Colonel Fotheringay has been church warden since his father stepped down in 1912, so of course he is still church warden today. People like this have been working hard for so many years - so of course, it’s their church.
And then Jesus walks in church door in the guise of a newcomer. A newcomer walks in the door who is perhaps a bit different, dresses differently or looks different or is a different age or talks with a different accent. A newcomer who hasn’t spent 20 years doing the flower rota, who hasn’t turned up every Saturday morning for 83 years to polish the brass or teach in Sunday school. And… ……………………….
Well I don’t need to complete that story: it's up to you how that story ends. Rather let’s think of the child who never gets picked for the school football team. And suddenly one week you are team captain and you pick him first and you see the joy and relief in his eyes.
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So the foreman in the market in Uganda, Sierra Leone, Bangladesh, if he picks everyday the strongest and the best, then that’s good for his business. But what about the one’s who are never picked. The woman who had her leg blown off by a mine from the civil war. The man who had polio as a child and has never quite recovered. The person who hasn't had work for two weeks and hasn't eaten for 5 days. There’s no social security system. If they don’t get picked for work, they have to beg or starve. Imagine how one of them will feel if at five o clock in the afternoon - when the day is almost done- a landowner comes back and offers them some work. Even if he pays a pittance at least tonight they will eat.
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It is easy to feel moved by a story of such generosity when it is in a far off place.
It’s not so easy to feel moved by that story when you are the one not getting so much generosity. As a young trainee accountant I had been very happy with my pay rise until I found my colleagues had got one so much bigger. In my case I kicked up a fuss and ended up getting the same pay rise - but did I have any right to? I had been generously rewarded - who was I to say what the firm should do with it’s money. Did I have any right to be so angry?
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Well in our bible story the labourers who had been there since the first hour definitely felt angry. From their point of view they had toiled for twelve hours in the blazing heat. Of course if the land owner had paid them off first, they might have known how much he was paying those who had been there only an hour. But seeing how much the newbies got they felt they deserved more. But the landowner says “no” “Did I not promise you a fair wage. Did I not give you a fair wage”. In fact a denarius was a very generous wage for a day’s work. “who are you to complain if I choose to be generous”
So back to Vienna in 1916. A huge royal entourage stand outside the burial crypt. Twice they have sought to have the body of Emperor Franz Joseph admitted. Once with the most ostentiatious of addresses “ his Imperial and Apostolic Majesty, …. by the grace of God Emperor of Austria, King of Hungary, Defender of the faith..." blah of blah's; rhubarb of rhubarbs; and all other thirty-seven titles. No luck
A second time they demand entry for the great Emperor and still excluded and now for a third time…
"Who goes there?"
The officer tried a third time, stripping the emperor of all but the humblest of titles:
"We bear the body of Franz-Josef, .....our brother, .....a sinner like us all!"
At that the doors swung open, ......and Franz-Josef was admitted.*
Admitted not because of his titles, not because of anything he has done, not because he is so important that he deserves to be admitted. No, admitted because God in his generosity loves all of us and welcomes us into his love. No matter who we are, what titles we have,or how much we have,none of it can open the way to God's grace. The only way we can receive it is as a gift - a gift we don’t earn, but receive because God loves us so much.
[* story from a sermon by Fr Jeffrey Smead on this site]
