Ordinary 26
September 27, 2020
William G. Carter
Jesus said, “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.
I have great affection for this text. Thirty years ago this weekend, this was the Bible passage for the first sermon that I ever preached in this sanctuary. It was the last weekend of September. The day was governed by my candidating sermon. That is a Presbyterian tradition that is not actually in our official Book of Order. A minister preaches a sermon, and then a congregation votes on whether they want that preacher.
My loved ones were a little anxious about the event. The anxiety increased when they discovered I was preaching on this text. I thought it was irresistible. Just think, to stand in front of people you never met, give them a big smile, and the pronounce the words of Jesus, “The tax collectors and the prostitutes are going into the kingdom of heaven ahead of all of you.”
Thirty years ago, that was a good text for puncturing the hollow righteousness of the Pharisees. To keep it light, I referred to the movie “Pretty Woman” (if you saw it, you can figure out why). To keep it cheerful, I reminded us that John the Baptist ate bugs for breakfast before he preached repentance. Nevertheless you voted to keep me around, and here we are.
Today what draws my attention is not the word about tax collectors and prostitutes, but the little parable right before it. A father has two sons. Neither one of them wants to do what the father wants them to do. Then one of them changes his mind. Now, what do you think about that story?
Some of us have had children who would not clean their rooms. Some of us have other family members who don’t clean their rooms. The parent declares, “Clean it up!” One says, “No,” and later does it. The other says, “OK,” and then gets sidetracked by the cell phone. We know these children.
We might think Jesus should mention a third child – the one who immediately goes to the vineyard when the father sends him. But he doesn’t say anything about that. That would be too easy. It would prop up those who presume that they are flawless and always do what is right.
No, Jesus mentions only two kinds of people, those who resist the Father’s direction and later change their minds, and are those who say, “Yes, yes, I’ll go,” and then they do not go. What do you think about that? Which one of the children are you?
Maybe you will say that you are the first. When the order comes, your arms are folded. You stand unmoved. You hear some clear direction for your life. But you want to try it on your own, thank you very much. The only honest thing to do is to tell the Father the truth: “I’m not going where you want me to go. I’m not doing what you want me to do.” That kind of honesty is important. It has its own integrity. What you say is what you do.
But over time, things change. You change. The wisdom of the Father’s instruction begins to make sense. Either that or you’re going hungry, so you go out to the vineyard and earn some money by working with the grapes. Sooner or later you find yourself doing what the Father directed you to do. It took a while, but you end up in the place where he wanted you to go.
It’s important to see that Jesus is not particularly harsh about this extended time plan. It doesn’t seem to bother him that some people say no to the Father. That’s because Jesus is a Calvinist. Like John Calvin, Jesus knows that all people resist what the Father tells them to do. They may resist because they are cranky. They may resist because they are hardheaded. They may resist just to resist. Officially there is a religious word to describe this condition; let’s merely take this as a description of who we are.
The good news is that Christ is patient, even while the hard-heads are slow to come to their senses. Maybe life buffets them around or they decide their road is the wrong road. However it happens, they change direction. They discover the Old Father isn’t so clueless after all and has their best interests in mind. This is called the doctrine of salvation, where we end up in a different place from where we once were headed. Despite the initial resistance, Kid Number One gets in God’s door.
But then there’s that other child. This is the one who says all the right words but doesn’t do them. He speaks with respect, and even calls the Father “kurios,” that is, “Lord.” He agrees with the Father until the Father is out of sight, and then he doesn’t do what he says. Or he promises results – “I’ll go to the vineyard” -- but it will only be on his terms, and on his time schedule.
Jesus knows there are people in this second category. They sound so obedient, so correct, so connected to the will of the Father. But when the truth comes out, they are nothing more than fakes, charlatans, con artists. So what do you think? Which of these two is doing the Father’s will?
Take note: Jesus says these words in Jerusalem. He stands in the Temple, in the Religious Emporium. The Habitually Religious swarm around him like bees. And you can guess where this is going. One of the recurring criticisms of religious people is that they say one thing and do another. That it’s a lot of talk and no action.
Certainly this can happen. We all know people who say, “Lord, Lord,” and then sit on their hands. And sometimes we need to ‘fess up that we are not the people we proclaim to be. None of us ever totally live up to the life set before us in our baptism.
I think Matthew is shining light on this. He knows that there can be a serious disconnection between the Christian faith that people espouse and the deeds that they do.
Some years ago, I picked up a book in a Montana bookstore. It offered stories about some pioneers that settled there. The title is what sold me the book: Speaking Ill of the Dead: Jerks in Montana History.
One of the unsavory stories has to do with the mistreatment of Native Americans who were pushed off their land onto reservations. As new settlers in Montana enlarged their ranches, they enlisted the U.S. Army to shove back the Indians to the most useless scrub land. You know that already from history classes in school.
What you may not know are the accounts of how the supplies that our government sent to the displaced Natives rarely reached the people of the northern tribes. The supplies were often bushwhacked or sold by brokers to white settlers for a profit. A lot of Native Americans starved to death in the 1880’s because they never received the food that our government provided for them.
The most stunning detail is that the people responsible for this travesty were three successive directors of the Bureau of Indian Affairs, all of whom were United Methodist ministers.
What do you think? Jesus said, “Not everybody who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven.” (7:21) He calls us to integrate word and deed, to hold together what we say and what we do. And he does this because he knows there are some who say to the Father, “I will go work in your vineyard, sir,” but they don’t seem to ever get there.
This is not a new issue. Nor is it a lighthearted one. In fact, it is so important that it shows up in the Ten Commandments. As God decrees, “You shall not take the name of the Lord in vain.” That commandment is not speaking of swearing if somebody bumps your fender. No, the commandment is about taking the name of the Lord – saying that we belong to God, saying that we are Christians – and then acting as if it doesn’t matter. That would be taking God’s name and doing so in vain.
To hear Matthew tell this parable, he wants to know the God will find some Christians in the church. He wants to know there are believers with integrity. He wants to see people who believe Jesus is the life of the world and live as if that is true. Talk is cheap, and God knows there is a vineyard ripe for harvest.
So a mere thirty years in, let me say it’s a delight to serve among people who take the Gospel seriously. This is a church that aims to live the faith with consistency and coherence. All of us have our lapses and bumps; around here, that is testimony for the patience of our Lord.
In the thick of a pandemic, we are serving the community. We are sharing the love of Christ. Thank you. This is really an extraordinary household of faith. I am grateful. And let’s keep going. We have a distance to go, and a lot more people to love.
Jesus said, “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.
I have great affection for this text. Thirty years ago this weekend, this was the Bible passage for the first sermon that I ever preached in this sanctuary. It was the last weekend of September. The day was governed by my candidating sermon. That is a Presbyterian tradition that is not actually in our official Book of Order. A minister preaches a sermon, and then a congregation votes on whether they want that preacher.
My loved ones were a little anxious about the event. The anxiety increased when they discovered I was preaching on this text. I thought it was irresistible. Just think, to stand in front of people you never met, give them a big smile, and the pronounce the words of Jesus, “The tax collectors and the prostitutes are going into the kingdom of heaven ahead of all of you.”
Thirty years ago, that was a good text for puncturing the hollow righteousness of the Pharisees. To keep it light, I referred to the movie “Pretty Woman” (if you saw it, you can figure out why). To keep it cheerful, I reminded us that John the Baptist ate bugs for breakfast before he preached repentance. Nevertheless you voted to keep me around, and here we are.
Today what draws my attention is not the word about tax collectors and prostitutes, but the little parable right before it. A father has two sons. Neither one of them wants to do what the father wants them to do. Then one of them changes his mind. Now, what do you think about that story?
Some of us have had children who would not clean their rooms. Some of us have other family members who don’t clean their rooms. The parent declares, “Clean it up!” One says, “No,” and later does it. The other says, “OK,” and then gets sidetracked by the cell phone. We know these children.
We might think Jesus should mention a third child – the one who immediately goes to the vineyard when the father sends him. But he doesn’t say anything about that. That would be too easy. It would prop up those who presume that they are flawless and always do what is right.
No, Jesus mentions only two kinds of people, those who resist the Father’s direction and later change their minds, and are those who say, “Yes, yes, I’ll go,” and then they do not go. What do you think about that? Which one of the children are you?
Maybe you will say that you are the first. When the order comes, your arms are folded. You stand unmoved. You hear some clear direction for your life. But you want to try it on your own, thank you very much. The only honest thing to do is to tell the Father the truth: “I’m not going where you want me to go. I’m not doing what you want me to do.” That kind of honesty is important. It has its own integrity. What you say is what you do.
But over time, things change. You change. The wisdom of the Father’s instruction begins to make sense. Either that or you’re going hungry, so you go out to the vineyard and earn some money by working with the grapes. Sooner or later you find yourself doing what the Father directed you to do. It took a while, but you end up in the place where he wanted you to go.
It’s important to see that Jesus is not particularly harsh about this extended time plan. It doesn’t seem to bother him that some people say no to the Father. That’s because Jesus is a Calvinist. Like John Calvin, Jesus knows that all people resist what the Father tells them to do. They may resist because they are cranky. They may resist because they are hardheaded. They may resist just to resist. Officially there is a religious word to describe this condition; let’s merely take this as a description of who we are.
The good news is that Christ is patient, even while the hard-heads are slow to come to their senses. Maybe life buffets them around or they decide their road is the wrong road. However it happens, they change direction. They discover the Old Father isn’t so clueless after all and has their best interests in mind. This is called the doctrine of salvation, where we end up in a different place from where we once were headed. Despite the initial resistance, Kid Number One gets in God’s door.
But then there’s that other child. This is the one who says all the right words but doesn’t do them. He speaks with respect, and even calls the Father “kurios,” that is, “Lord.” He agrees with the Father until the Father is out of sight, and then he doesn’t do what he says. Or he promises results – “I’ll go to the vineyard” -- but it will only be on his terms, and on his time schedule.
Jesus knows there are people in this second category. They sound so obedient, so correct, so connected to the will of the Father. But when the truth comes out, they are nothing more than fakes, charlatans, con artists. So what do you think? Which of these two is doing the Father’s will?
Take note: Jesus says these words in Jerusalem. He stands in the Temple, in the Religious Emporium. The Habitually Religious swarm around him like bees. And you can guess where this is going. One of the recurring criticisms of religious people is that they say one thing and do another. That it’s a lot of talk and no action.
Certainly this can happen. We all know people who say, “Lord, Lord,” and then sit on their hands. And sometimes we need to ‘fess up that we are not the people we proclaim to be. None of us ever totally live up to the life set before us in our baptism.
I think Matthew is shining light on this. He knows that there can be a serious disconnection between the Christian faith that people espouse and the deeds that they do.
Some years ago, I picked up a book in a Montana bookstore. It offered stories about some pioneers that settled there. The title is what sold me the book: Speaking Ill of the Dead: Jerks in Montana History.
One of the unsavory stories has to do with the mistreatment of Native Americans who were pushed off their land onto reservations. As new settlers in Montana enlarged their ranches, they enlisted the U.S. Army to shove back the Indians to the most useless scrub land. You know that already from history classes in school.
What you may not know are the accounts of how the supplies that our government sent to the displaced Natives rarely reached the people of the northern tribes. The supplies were often bushwhacked or sold by brokers to white settlers for a profit. A lot of Native Americans starved to death in the 1880’s because they never received the food that our government provided for them.
The most stunning detail is that the people responsible for this travesty were three successive directors of the Bureau of Indian Affairs, all of whom were United Methodist ministers.
What do you think? Jesus said, “Not everybody who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven.” (7:21) He calls us to integrate word and deed, to hold together what we say and what we do. And he does this because he knows there are some who say to the Father, “I will go work in your vineyard, sir,” but they don’t seem to ever get there.
This is not a new issue. Nor is it a lighthearted one. In fact, it is so important that it shows up in the Ten Commandments. As God decrees, “You shall not take the name of the Lord in vain.” That commandment is not speaking of swearing if somebody bumps your fender. No, the commandment is about taking the name of the Lord – saying that we belong to God, saying that we are Christians – and then acting as if it doesn’t matter. That would be taking God’s name and doing so in vain.
To hear Matthew tell this parable, he wants to know the God will find some Christians in the church. He wants to know there are believers with integrity. He wants to see people who believe Jesus is the life of the world and live as if that is true. Talk is cheap, and God knows there is a vineyard ripe for harvest.
So a mere thirty years in, let me say it’s a delight to serve among people who take the Gospel seriously. This is a church that aims to live the faith with consistency and coherence. All of us have our lapses and bumps; around here, that is testimony for the patience of our Lord.
In the thick of a pandemic, we are serving the community. We are sharing the love of Christ. Thank you. This is really an extraordinary household of faith. I am grateful. And let’s keep going. We have a distance to go, and a lot more people to love.
(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.
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