October 1, 2017 – Pentecost +17A

“When he entered the temple, the chief priests and the elders of the people came to him as he was teaching, and said, “By what authority are you doing these things, and who gave you this authority?” Jesus said to them, “I will also ask you one question; if you tell me the answer, then I will also tell you by what authority I do these things. Did the baptism of John come from heaven, or was it of human origin?” And they argued with one another, “If we say, ‘From heaven,’ he will say to us, ‘Why then did you not believe him?’ But if we say, ‘Of human origin,’ we are afraid of the crowd; for all regard John as a prophet.” So they answered Jesus, “We do not know.” And he said to them, “Neither will I tell you by what authority I am doing these things. “What do you think? A man had two sons; he went to the first and said, ‘Son, go and work in the vineyard today.’ He answered, ‘I will not’; but later he changed his mind and went. The father went to the second and said the same; and he answered, ‘I go, sir’; but he did not go. Which of the two did the will of his father?” They said, “The first.” Jesus said to them, “Truly I tell you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are going into the kingdom of God ahead of you. For John came to you in the way of righteousness and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors and the prostitutes believed him; and even after you saw it, you did not change your minds and believe him.” Matthew 21:23-32

“…what does this story of two sons have to do with authority in the traditional sense? Pretty much nothing. But it has everything to do with how we regard the past. One son says he’ll help out and doesn’t follow through – I sympathize. The other son, however, is the focus of the parable. For he says he will not help, but does. Whatever may have motivated his initial response – he was already committed, he was feeling overwhelmed by prior obligations, he was annoyed that his father is always asking for help, he nursed a grudge about a time he felt his father didn’t help him, whatever – he recognizes that the future is always open. He can still respond to his father’s request and invitation, and as he does he proves himself faithful and lives into his father’s hopes for him.

At this pivotal moment in Matthew’s story about Jesus, and through this deceptively simple parable, Jesus is inviting his adversaries into an open future, one not dominated by the arguments and opposition of the past, but one that is open to the movement of God’s spirit to heal, revive, restore, and make all things new. The chief priests and elders do not accept this invitation. They have too much at stake in the past – it has created for them their primary identity and, whatever its limitations, they have become dependent on that identity – and so they refuse to trade that past for an open future. But those who are down and out, those who discover that the identity created by their past does not bring them life – represented here by “tax collectors and prostitutes,” two categories of people whose actions supposedly remove them beyond the pale of decent society – grab hold of Jesus’ promise with both hands. And here’s the thing: Jesus makes this same promise to us. No matter what we have done, no matter what may have been done to us, the future is still open. Whatever hurt we may have experienced or done in the past is, ultimately, in the past. We do not have to allow it to determine or dominate our future. We do not have to drag our past on our back the way a snail does its shell. We are, finally, more than the sum total of all that has happened to us. The future is open. It may be hard – really, really hard – to let go of the past and walk into the future. The past, after all, we at least know, and even our dysfunctional identities are at least familiar, whereas the future is so open it can be scary.” (…in the meantime, David Lose, Promising an Open Future, Sept. 22, 2014)

Now, why does the son who first said yes, NOT GO? Why didn’t he go? Maybe he is lazy. Maybe he is tired. Or maybe he fears that he will be made to look like a fool, or he fears that no matter how hard he works someone always criticizes him and something he does. He does 99% of his work right, but others seem to always point out the 1% he does wrong – where he makes mistakes. So, the unintended consequence of pointing out his few mistakes is his desire not to work at all. Oh, the people who point out his mistakes will say something like “I was just trying to help” or “We were concerned” – but you see, there are always unintended consequences to “trying to be helpful” – and one of them is pushing people away.

In the same light, why does the son who first said no, finally GO? Perhaps he too is lazy. Perhaps he too is tired. Or perhaps he too will hear only critical voices about what he does, and yet he has a change of heart, he has the humility to empty himself (remember the Philippians text), to swallow his pride, and recognize the need to work in the vineyard no matter what others might say. And those voices can be really critical, and though their intent is not to hurt, those voices can stop people from working – voices like:

“You are too distracted” “You forgot to do this or that” “This work can’t have any mistakes”
The voice that won out was the voice that said “Go and work in the vineyard today”. How we live our lives matters – what we do – what we say – our willingness to work in God’s vineyard – it all matters. And so we navigate that time like a dance – a dance between humility and authority. You see, the religious leaders, the elders and the chief priests were good at taking the authority to point out “others” mistakes. But when Jesus challenged them to consider their own mistake, about John’s ministry, and about his own authority, they were thrust into a position of humility. Jesus humbled them by pointing out their own sin – their own lack of understanding.

Oh the dance of the Christian life. The Gospel of Matthew has an interesting take on the issue of authority. Throughout the Gospel Jesus has taught with authority, healed with authority, and gave his disciples authority over evil. Authority it seems, at least in the Gospel of Matthew, has nothing to do with domination or “lording” over another. It is about “teaching”, “healing”, and “removing evil”. So authority is about doing things to change people’s lives, to make them better, and has nothing to do with “embarrassing a brother or sister”, or “pointing out their weaknesses.”

Again, the dance of the “Christ-like” life – so many want to make that dance a “Tango” – harsh, abrupt, kicking here, dipping there – but that dance is about power and authority and law. No, I believe the dance of the “Christ-like” life is more like a “Waltz”. The Waltz is “gentile” not harsh; it is “humble”, not abrupt; it is “fluid”, it is not kicking here and there. The dance of the Waltz is about “Grace”. When you watch a group of people dancing the Waltz, it is a well choreographed sea of movement and dance – moving and flowing together. This, my friends reminds us that living the “Christ-like” life involves living lives of humility – the willingness to have open hearts and minds – and the ability to have a change of heart when we realize we have lost that humility – or when the need to have power, and authority, and the unceasing need to always be right makes us feel authoritative. Oh, it does involve authority, but not in the “lording it over others” type of authority. Instead it involves “teaching”, being “agents of healing”, and “removing evil from our lives and from our midst”. It means yoking ourselves to Christ – and that requires us to empty ourselves of things like pride, the need to be right, and instead filling ourselves with “right living”.

The Father is asking us to “Go and Work” in the vineyard. We are called to go with humble hearts, to empty ourselves, and live the “Christ-like” life. Or, in other words, “It matters how we live” each and every day.

Pastor Dave