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Sunday, September 18, 2011. Sermon by Rev. Elizabeth
A. Pyles. To hear the sermon, click on the podcast icon at the left.
Scripture: Matthew 21.23-32
Jesus entered the temple courts, and, while he was teaching,
the chief priests and the elders of the people came to him. “By what authority
are you doing these things?” they asked. “And who gave you this authority?”
Jesus replied, “I will also ask you one question. If you answer me, I will tell
you by what authority I am doing these things. John’s baptism—where did it come
from? Was it from heaven, or of human origin?” They discussed it among
themselves and said, “If we say, ‘From heaven,’ he will ask, ‘Then why didn’t
you believe him?’ 26 But if we say, ‘Of human origin’—we are afraid of the
people, for they all hold that John was a prophet.” So they answered Jesus, “We
don’t know.” Then he said, “Neither will I tell you by what authority I am doing
these things. “What do you think? There was a man who had two sons. He went to
the first and said, ‘Son, go and work today in the vineyard.’ “‘I will not,’ he
answered, but later he changed his mind and went. “Then the father went to the
other son and said the same thing. He answered, ‘I will, sir,’ but he did not
go. “Which of the two did what his father wanted?” “The first,” they answered.
Jesus said to them, “Truly I tell you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes
are entering the kingdom of God ahead of you. For John came to you to show you
the way of righteousness, and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors
and the prostitutes did. And even after you saw this, you did not repent and
believe him.
When Even Heaven Is Not Enough
When I first came to Highland, I went on map quest to get directions to
Harrisonburg from McDowell . . . the directions sent me to Monterey, then to
Franklin, West Virginia, and from there, on Rt. 33, to Harrisonburg, almost
doubling the distance. I didn’t know how to get to Harrisonburg, but I knew
enough to know this wasn’t right, so I called someone and got the right
directions.
Now, the map
quest directions would have gotten me to Harrisonburg . . . eventually. But what
if I’d taken the directions believing (rightly) what someone had told me before
. . . it takes about 50 minutes to get to Harrisonburg? Most likely, somewhere
in the mountains on Rt. 33, well into the second hour, I would have begun to
wonder if I’d taken a wrong turn and long before I got to Harrisonburg, I
probably would have turned around and gone back, believing myself hopelessly
lost.
That’s the
problem with the view of God and faith as a matter of prescribed rules . . .
there are so many rules, so many obstacles, so many ‘long-way-around’ directions
that, if you didn’t already know the way, you’d feel yourself hopelessly lost,
and, chances are, turn around and go home, giving up any thought of ever getting
to Harrisonburg, or if you kept at it and finally did get there, you’d be so
exhausted by the journey that you’d probably wonder why you even bothered.
Now I don’t
that anyone’s ever compared getting to Harrisonburg to getting to heaven
(although they might if they lived in Highland and hadn’t been to a movie or a
grocery store in a month :-)
Jesus, I
think, is trying to tell his listeners, the chief priests, the elders, and the
common folk, that it’s so much easier than we make it out to be, this being in
covenant with God business. Consider the Q&A between Jesus and the ‘church’
leadership of his day, remembering Voltaire’s admonition that we ought to judge
a person by his questions rather than his answers.
The exchange
between the chief priests and elders on the one hand and Jesus on the other are
classic examples of ‘misdirection’ . . . those who thought they had the
authority totally missed the direction of things . . . the chief priests’ and
elders’ problem is that they think they are the teachers, and thus entirely miss
that Jesus has something to teach them. . . they demand, as teachers often do
(think where were you? I gave you a hall pass for the bathroom, not to talk to
your friends in the hallway!) that Jesus give an account of himself. And these
guys aren’t being all that unreasonable.
This story is
told in Matthew, Mark and Luke. In all three gospels, Jesus has just ‘cleansed’
the temple by driving the money changers out. Thus, in the minds of the
authorities, the question begs to be asked, who are you to do this? What gave
you the right? Who gave you the right?
The Socratic
method of teaching is a common model in law school. In the right hands,
questions posed by the teacher lead the student, allowing her to come to her own
conclusions, to see the logic with her own eyes. In this method, both teacher
and student understand their respective roles. The teacher leads by questioning;
the student follows by testing out various possibilities, as the priests and
elders did, but then goes farther by committing to an answer, knowing that the
answer will provoke another question and another and another, always trusting
that the teacher is taking the student to the destination of discovery.
The Socratic
method requires trust. Trust that the teacher has a goal in mind and can help
the student get there. Trust that the teacher has something to teach. Trust
where the teacher is taking you and how the teacher is getting you there.
And here is
the central problem for the priests and elders: being teachers themselves, they
refuse to believe that they have anything to learn from this Jesus guy. Unable
to see their own ignorance, they’re stuck in it. They know the object lesson.
It’s obvious. But instead of repenting, instead of allowing themselves to be
changed, instead of even allowing for the possibility of another, easier, way,
they react in anger, desiring to arrest Jesus for having the temerity to
criticize them! Only the presence of witnesses stopped them. By golly, they knew
the way to Harrisonburg and nobody was going to tell them any different!
How
heartbreakingly sad this is.
A word about
the meaning of repentance is called for. Note that in the parable there is no
reference to any change of feeling in either of the brothers. The narrative
focuses not on feelings or even on words; rather, the focus is on action.
Repentance is the act of returning, of turning back to, God. Sorrow or regret
may prompt repentance, but they are not the same thing.
For Shi’a
Muslims, Ashura is a day of mourning for the martyrdom of Husayn, grandson of
Mohammed. Many will take the Zanjir (chain) for Zanjir matam (flagellation,
beating of the back or chest) as a sign of repentance for his death, as in “I am
sorry I wasn’t there to save your life.” While this observance has an important
place in the faith lives of Muslims in general and Shi’a Muslims in particular,
they are not preaching a life of penance and perpetual sorrow. Indeed, during
Ashura, it is customary to provide food for the poor.
To live in a
perpetual state of regret is a sorry thing indeed . . . it is to live at the
corner of Hopeless and Helpless . . .
Repentance is
much more personal than regret . . .
Regret is to be sorry that others suffer poverty . . .
Repentance is
to do something about it . . .
Regret is to wistfully wish that someone would do something for those poor folk
. . .
Repentance is
to roll up my own sleeves and feed them ourselves . . .
Regret is to be glad there’s a food bank . . .
Repentance is
to deposit food into the food bank myself . . .
And here, we
thought repentance was all about being sorry . . .
But friends,
being sorry is a sorry thing indeed . . .
Jesus didn’t
come to make us sad . . .
He came to make us glad . . .
Jesus isn’t
tricking the chief priests and elders and he isn’t damning them either. Notice
that Jesus doesn’t say they won’t get into God’s kingdom. He says that others
will get there before them. It’s a sort of last-ditch shock-therapy approach by
Jesus, who is trying, desperately, to move them . . . to turn them . . . to get
them to turn themselves in another direction . . . This [demonstrate
flagellation] is not what Jesus means by repentance, or turning back. But that’s
how we so often misunderstand it. We’re all sinners. I’m so grateful God loves
me in spite of my many sins. Nothing is wrong with these sentiments, but God
never intended us to stay stuck in our sorrow or regret. Nor does God expect us
to be the pitiful penitents, forever sorry. The good news of the gospel is not a
message of tears; it is a message of joy. It is not a call to perpetual apology
before the throne, as if we were required to be court sycophants or jesters,
continually reminding the crown and ourselves how abjectly pitiful we are. . .
it is the call to bask in God’s reflected glory shining like the noon-day sun on
our uplifted faces. We come to God’s throne faces up, not down . . . filled with
joy, not with fear. That’s Jesus’ good-news message.
This isn’t a ‘good news/bad news’ scenario. It’s a win/win situation. But the
chief priests and elders, so convinced that they have the lock on truth, simply
cannot or will not see it that way. I don’t think Jesus is angry with them. I
think he pities them. For they simply cannot yet repent, turn away from their
own understanding of things. . .
Away from the
direction of bondage
into the direction of freedom
Away from the
direction of self
into the direction of God . . .
One brother
changed his mind
the other brother changed
They’re both
kingdom-bound
I wonder if they’ll both be happy there?
I wonder if even heaven will be enough for them both?
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