So Mad at Amadeus

There was a fascinating story here in the local paper a week or so ago about the very thriving business of being a political consultant. These are the media pros who simply know how to run campaigns. And if you sign them up, they can make your TV ads, help coordinate your schedule, do what's called "oppo" work on the enemy candidates, tell you what to say and think, design position papers, and all the rest. Of course, many of these people are available to just about any candidate from the right, the left, the middle, Democrat, Republican, or Green Party. Especially any Green Party candidate who's got green money. That's the bottom line, of course. And we think immediately of people like the infamous Dick Morris, who used to work just with conservative Republicans, it seemed, but all of a sudden was brought in — for a price — to save the Clinton presidency.

The dilemma happening more and more, these days, is that of switching horses halfway through. A candidate will hire a consultant — and, of course, he or she's got to pretty much put their life into the handler's hands. They've got to confide secrets, reveal closet skeletons, bare their soul. And more than once, now, for whatever reason, a political consultant will jump ship and go over to the opposite camp where the grass is greener and the money too. And this has provoked a thorny question of ethics: once this handler is armed with secrets from one side, is he or she free to share that dirt with the opposition, with the new boss?

Well, it's a lively discussion, but here on this Thursday we want to move into the direction of commitment instead. There comes a time in a person's life when they've got to simply pick a boss and stay with him. In a way, these consultants are like surfers in the Pacific Ocean who float on their surfboards, wearing their wet suits and waiting for the right wave. And when it looks like it's coming along, they paddle for all they're worth and hope to ride that winning wave all the way to the shore of victory. Any consultant who endlessly jumps around, going for a few more bucks here, a higher title there, betraying confidences right and left, is only going to experience limited short-term success.

As we turn again to the book of Matthew chapter 20, we have here a story of a boss who doesn't seem too bright. At the end of the day, he pays people what he promised, but in a very strange way. Those who worked the least amount of time get the same pay as those who have been on the campaign from the beginning. A campaign worker who didn't sign on until November 1, just two days before the election, gets the same pay as a George Stephanopoulos who's been on duty seven days a week for the last six months. Or the aide who's served the Boss since he was a lowly governor down in Arkansas.

And so the question is very important here: is this a Boss you can trust? If the pay scales seem all messed up, and if certain people — never you, for some reason — get paid more than they deserve, should you stay with this Leader? Or should you ride some other wave?

In the Bible parable itself, the first workers are told very plainly how much they'll be paid. "One denarius — a standard day's pay — for a day's work." But workers who come along later hear this plantation owner tell them: "Please come work for Me, and I'll pay you what's fair." Well, who's to know how much that will be? But these workers trust Him, and things work out very, very well for every single one of them. They're all paid way more than any of them expected or deserved.

Of course, where the story bogs down — in human terms — is when the Owner pays OTHER people too much money. The all-day workers don't think He's mistreated them; they just resent how the Boss has overpaid all the other campaign staffers. And of course, this is where just about all of us reveal by our whining that we plain and simple do not understand or comprehend or accept what Calvary and grace are all about.

We've been mentioning this week the great new bestseller, What's So Amazing About Grace?, by Philip Yancey. He describes how he went to the play, Amadeus, which was also the Oscar-winning Best Picture back in the year 1984.

"[This] play . . . shows a composer in the seventeenth century," he writes, "seeking to understand the mind of God. The devout Antonio Salieri has the earnest desire, but not the aptitude, to create immortal music of praise. It infuriates him that God has instead lavished the greatest gift of musical genius ever known on an impish preadolescent named Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart."

And all through the story, this aching anger and jealousy just eat at the older man. Why, oh why, oh why? God, what is the matter with You? This . . . this . . . kid, this profane, foul-mouthed, promiscuous child whose high-pitched giggling laugh desecrates the halls of the great cathedrals and palaces of Europe, is just brimming over with God-given talent. It's so insufferably easy for Mozart! And Salieri, who is a humble and obedient and loyal servant, both to God and king, simply can't compete. He can't compose as well, play as well, create as effectively. It's just not there. It's a case of getting a smaller paycheck from heaven, and no matter how much he cries or howls or schemes, God doesn't fix the situation. It appears that the heavenly Father is truly a bad Boss. In an irony of ironies, as Yancey points out, the very name "Amadeus" actually means "beloved of God." Why in the world does God love this profane, powder-wigged prodigy?

And in your life and mine, friend, we can see the same ripoff being played over and over a million times. Someone else out there is always doing better than us. God is blessing them more, treating them better, giving them more favors. We'd like to be able to preach or sing or write great Broadway plays, but no matter how tightly we grip that pencil or practice our oratory, it's just not there. God the mysterious vineyard Owner, has messed up the payscale again.

And Yancey runs down a little list from right in the Bible, because this just happens over and over:

"Why would God choose Jacob the conniver over dutiful Esau? Why confer supernatural powers of strength on a Mozartian delinquent named Samson? Why groom a runty shepherd boy, David, to be Israel's king? And why bestow a sublime gift of wisdom on Solomon, the fruit of that king's adulterous liaison? Indeed, in each of these Old Testament stories the scandal of grace rumbles under the surface until finally, in Jesus' parables, it bursts forth in a dramatic upheaval to reshape the moral landscape."

So friend, this is heaven's way. Once again, we find, the math of the kingdom of heaven is just plain upside-down. Two and two is never four; it's five, and then ten, and a hundred and a thousand . . . especially when God is paying OTHER people. For you, two and two is four, but not for all the jerky Amadeuses all around you. And this is fixed; this is how it is.

In his Matthew commentary for the Tyndale series, Richard France reasserts that this is the unavoidable nature of heaven, folks.

"The essential point of the parable is that God is like that; His generosity transcends human ideas of fairness. No one receives less than they deserve, but some receive far more."

He then goes on to hit us — Antonio Salieri and you and me — right where it hurts. Right between the eyes. Notice and wince along with me:

"God's grace to the undeserving," he writes, "should be a cause for joy, not for jealousy."

And you say, "I'm not ready for that." Well, maybe none of us are. It sticks in the throat when God blesses someone else, when the worst person you know gets a favor from heaven. When it looks like the #1 scoundrel of your city is going to be saved in heaven and have a mansion as big as yours. And at that point, as we feel our blood boiling, we have to stop and ask ourselves: "What has God done for me? Hasn't He saved me too? Am I not going to receive a full eternity in His kingdom? Don't I have the same abundant, overly generous paycheck as the others . . . in terms of the forever of His eternal government in heaven? Didn't God expend the full treasury, the bottomless well of Calvary's grace, for me just as He did for my neighbor?" And then, friend, as we stand in the shadow of the Cross, maybe we'll quiet down a bit and praise God for being the kind of Boss He is.

Theologian R. H. Stein, in his book, An Introduction to the Parables of Jesus, makes this very probing point.

"It is frightening to realize that our identification with the first workers, and hence with the opponents of Jesus, reveals how loveless and unmerciful we basically are. We may be more 'under law' in our thinking and less 'under grace' than we realize. God is good and compassionate far beyond His children's understanding!"

Does that diagnosis hit home? Are we mad when God favors others? If so, is it possible that we haven't yet experienced grace? Back to Dr. Richard France, who makes this gentle suggestion in his Matthew commentary:

"Parables are characteristically open-ended, and a general rule for their interpretation is, 'If the cap fits, wear it!'"

I'm afraid mine fits rather snugly. How about yours?

Go back to the top