In the name of God ☩ Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
“By what authority are you doing things?” In other words, “Who do you think you are?” It’s a question that we train our children to ask. Math teachers tell students to “show your work” and when you get to high school or college, any paper you turn in had better have footnotes that cite your sources. When you walk into my office, right on the wall I have my diplomas and ordination certificates, so you know by what authority I am doing these things. And the same is probably true when you go visit your doctor, financial planner, or lawyer – their credentials are front and center so that you can put your mind at ease that they have the authority to be doing these things.
And when we don’t trust someone, or don’t like what they have to say, what’s the first thing we do? Isn’t it to question their authority? Think of a cross-examination at a trial. Well, full disclosure, I’ve never seen a case argued in a courtroom, but at least think of how it works on Law and Order. But the opposing attorney doesn’t try to refute the facts that a witness offers, rather they try to sway the jury to dismiss the credibility of the witness. And that is exactly what we see playing out between Jesus and the chief priests in today’s reading from Matthew.
To fully grasp this encounter, we have to have a bit of context. It’s not as if this conversation between the chief priests and Jesus happened as they saw each other around the streets of Jerusalem. No, the way that chapter 21 began was with the Palm Sunday entrance into Jerusalem, followed by Jesus cleansing the Temple. Who do you think you are performing healings? Who do you think you are forgiving sins? Who do you think you are just waltzing into the Temple and telling people what to do?
There is only one answer to this question: the Messiah. But they can’t come out and just ask Jesus if he is the Messiah. Again, most of what I know of the legal system comes from tv dramas, but when a suspect is being interrogated, they never come out and ask “Did you commit the murder?” No; they start by asking other questions, hoping that the person will say something that will be self-incriminating. The chief priests can’t just lead with “Are you the Messiah?” Jesus would have given them an enigmatic answer – he would have said something like “If you say so.” No, they wanted to Jesus to say either that he was doing this on his own authority, which is meaningless, or they wanted him to say he was doing it on God’s authority, which, as the chief priests, they’d then be able to soundly refute. The answer, of course, is that Jesus is doing this both on his own authority and God’s – the authority of Jesus though hasn’t come yet, that’s what the Cross is all about. But the chief priests were playing checkers, and Jesus was playing chess, so he moves in for checkmate.
It may seem odd to bring up John the Baptist in his answer, but how John is viewed cuts right to the heart of the matter. John was out in the desert, preaching a message of repentance and the coming of God’s Kingdom. And people were listening to him. You’ll remember that back in Matthew 3, Jesus goes to John to be baptized, and as Jesus comes up out of the water, the voice of God proclaims “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” So if John is legitimate, then so is Jesus. But if the chief priests admit that, then the question will come right back that them: then why do you reject him?
It’s a question about how we deal with authority. Can more than one person be authoritative? For the chief priests, the answer was “No.” If John had any authority, then it would impinge upon their authority. One of the things that I so value about our Anglican tradition is a healthy diffusion of authority. The Archbishop of Canterbury has authority, but not total authority. The same goes for our Presiding Bishop, and even our Diocesan Bishop. The single greatest authority in our Church is the Book of Common Prayer, but this authority figure doesn’t tell us what to do, but only points us in the right direction. And the Prayer Book is approved by bishops, clergy, and laity, so it’s not as if a small group of people has authority over it. For us, Scripture has central authority, but our tradition and reason also have authority. But when we find authority in several sources, it means that we don’t have as many easy or quick answers. And not everyone is interested in doing the spiritual work of discernment and living with the tension of truths that aren’t short and sweet.
So, at times, we, like the chief priests, struggle with the idea of having more than one source for authority, especially when we see ourselves as that authority figure. So there was no way they were going to say that John had any authority or that he his baptism was of heavenly origins. But to deny John’s authority would mean angering the crowd who had gathered to watch this public spat. Many of these people had been out to hear John preach, maybe they were even baptized by him. In their minds, clearly John was a prophet in the line of Elijah, Isaiah, and Micah. It seemed obvious that God was at work through John, so to say that John’s ministry was merely of human origin would be to deny God’s work. That wasn’t going to be an option for them.
We can struggle with that as well – when God acts contrary to the box we’ve put God into. For centuries, the Church said that God’s Sacraments could not be administered by women; but as it turns out, that was humans putting a limit on God. History is littered with examples of when we’ve denied the movement of God in the world to suit our agenda, and this encounter that Jesus has reminds us of the dangers of daring to put limits on what sort of things God might do or on what kind of people God might be made manifest in.
So the chief priests were stuck between a rock and a hard place – either admit that they’ve willfully ignored a prophet of God or willfully ignore the movement of God in the world. So they say “We do not know.” But Jesus doesn’t stop there, he goes on to offer a parable about two sons. One ignores the words of his father, but then repents, which is the word translated as “changed his mind,” and does his father’s will. And the other says “Sure, dad,” but then doesn’t follow through. Jesus then asks them – which of these two did the will of the father. There’s no getting out of this one, they have to admit that it was the son who actually did what the father asked.
We all know that it’s one thing to say that we are people of faith, that we believe in God, that we want to promote peace, but it’s something else to do those things. The chief priests wanted to be seen as having God’s authority, of being the messengers of God, but they were closed off to those things in the name of preserving their own authority. One of the hallmarks of our Anglican theology is that our faith is incarnational. “Incarnational” simply means “enfleshed.” Faith is not a cerebral exercise, rather it is a lived experience of God’s grace.
At least in my opinion, one of the worst things that we can do is to use the word “Christian” as an adjective because at the most basic grammatical level, an adjective is subjective to a noun and the Christian faith should never be subject to something else. It means that there is no such thing as a Christian position on war, but Christians are to love our enemies. There is no such thing as a Christian position on immigration, but Christians are to love our neighbors. There is no such thing as a Christian position on tax reform, but Christians are to take care of the least of these. There is no such thing as a Christian position gun ownership, but Christians are called peacemakers by Jesus. There is no such thing as a Christian position on euthanasia, but Christians are to respect the dignity of all life. Faith isn't about having the right position, but rather about living in God's grace.
Now, I’ll admit that it would be easier if there were an index in the back of the Bible or Prayer Book that told what to think. But there isn’t. Rather, we are only given a way of life. The earliest name for the followers of Jesus was “The Way.” Followers of Jesus didn’t call themselves “Christian” but rather “members of the Way.” And I think we lost something when we used a name that was turned into an adjective. The Way reminds us that Christianity is a way of life, not simply a status. It reminds us that there is always transformation and movement, which can never be pinned down. You may have heard Presiding Bishop Curry speak of the “Jesus Movement,” which is a way of articulating that Christianity is not a static set of beliefs, it is not an adjective, but rather an incarnate, a living and breathing, way of being in this world.
But it’s really hard to commit to a way of life as opposed to just following a few rules, most of which we can learn how to bend. The chief priests, like us, are indicted by this parable that tells us that faith isn’t about saying that we will follow God, but it’s about actually following. Not once does Jesus tell us to “think the right things,” but he often says “Let me show you what mercy, or love, or respect looks like, and follow me.” Good and reasonable people are going to interpret that differently, so we much prefer to draw lines around what and who are acceptable and what and who aren’t. We can form our mutual adoration societies with a mission of not being “those people.” That’s not the Gospel, but it is easy.
I absolutely love today’s collect – “O God, you declare your almighty power chiefly in showing mercy and pity.” It’s a bold claim that God’s power, or we might say “authority,” is not seen most clearly in defeating evil or in creating the world – though those certainly are parts of it. But God’s authority is seen chiefly in showing mercy and pity. Isn’t that how Jesus lived? He healed, he forgave, he blessed, he showed compassion. He did it in the face of opposition, but never rendered evil for evil. He did it under threat of crucifixion, but he never wavered in his mission.
Any authority that we have is derived from the authority of Jesus. It’s not an authority about being right, or saying the right things while neglecting action. It’s not an authority of coercion or violence. Rather it is an authority that comes out of a loving presence of mercy and pity. So assist us, O Lord, in trusting in your authority when we are faced with fear and uncertainty. Guide in your way, which is the path of true and abundant life. Help us to advance not our own authority, but to rest in yours. Amen.
