Whatever else may be said about our Lord Jesus Christ it certainly may be said that he didn’t abide
hypocrisy lightly. He was accused of being the friend of tax collectors & sinners; among his circle of
friends were prostitutes and drunkards; and he gave corrective but kind words to a woman caught in
adultery. He healed some pretty gnarly people in various states of physical distress. The thing all
these people had in common is that they were who they were, and they came into Jesus’ presence
knowing their need. Kind of like the hymn we sang at Communion a couple weeks ago: “Just as I am,
without one plea.” There’s something about being humbly authentic that makes us accessible to
Jesus.
Contrast that with the picture we get in today’s Gospel reading. Jesus had just made some pretty
big waves in the days prior. On the way from Jericho to Jerusalem he healed a couple of blind men.
Then when he got to Jerusalem he made His triumphal entry on the back of a donkey, fulfilling the
famous messianic prophecy of Zechariah.
Shortly afterward he cleansed the temple of the moneychangers, and by his actions basically
declared himself to be the new authority of Israel. His reputation preceded him, and it was based on
a series of incredible signs and wonders, all trumpeting a new kingdom of compassion and healing.
So now Jesus enters the temple, and begins teaching the people. Soon the power people of
Jerusalem appear from the shadows, and then stride right up to the front of the crowd, to Jesus.
Needless to say, they don’t share in the enthusiasm of the common people who’ve been listening to
this rabbi. With menacing glares and soft, carefully measured words they do what they do best. “By
what authority are you doing these things you’ve been doing, and who gave you this authority?”
they ask.
This was a game of intimidation that I’m sure would strike terror into most Jews at that time. When
you had the chief priests and temple elders on your case, you were at least shoulder deep in some
waters you didn’t really want to be wading in.
But Jesus isn’t a person who’s easily intimidated. This is the Messiah, the Son of God, in the final
stages of an earthly mission in which he’ll take on the most powerful force of darkness on earth, and
will prevail. I picture a calm resolve on Jesus’ face as he replies, “I will ask you one question; if you
tell me the answer then I will also tell you by what authority I do these things.” I have a feeling that
this isn’t what the elders and chief priests were expecting. There’s nothing like the element of
surprise to take a little of the starch out of your ephod.
Their sidelong glances at each other prompt Jesus to continue: “My question for you is this: Did the
baptism of John come from heaven, or was it of human origin?” To us this may sound like a total
non sequitur. But the authorities are very quick on the uptake. And at this moment I’m guessing
that they stiffen up and realize that they’re dealing with someone a bit more formidable than they’d
first expected. Because this is kind of like one of those “Have you stopped beating your wife?”
questions. There’s no answer that’s going to get you off the hook. So it’s huddle time. The priests
and elders do the other thing religious leaders do best; they begin arguing with each other.
One says, “If we say, ‘John the Baptist’s authority is from heaven,’ he’ll say to us, ‘Well, why didn’t
you believe him then?’” But if we say, ‘It came from human origin,’ this rabble’s going to turn on us;
because they all regard John as a prophet.” Not bad. Jesus has placed them in quite a dilemma.
So how do they reply? They say, “We don’t know.” That’s it. Isn’t that lame? Jesus has them so
thoroughly flummoxed that they have no idea what to say. So Jesus then responds, “Neither will I tell
you by what authority I’m doing these things.”
Now, a couple quick things about Jesus’ words to them. First, let’s look at what he didn’t say. When
the chief priests and elders said, “We don’t know,” Jesus didn’t say, “Well then, I don’t know either.”
That would have been a lie. Jesus knew full well where His own authority came from: It came from
His Father in heaven. So he didn’t stoop to their level. Instead, he read the dishonesty in their
hearts. He knew that they were saying “We don’t know” because it was the only strategy they could
think of. It was their only “out” in front of the crowd. So Jesus simply says, “Well then, neither will I
tell you by what authority I’m doing these things.” ‘You refuse to answer me? Well, then why should
I feel obligated to answer you?’
I’m guessing there may have been some guarded chuckles and smiles of admiration from some in
the crowd who weren’t big fans of the power people at the temple. OK? The windbags had just been
dissed! (To use the modern parlance.) They’d just received a pretty healthy dose of
comeuppance. But Jesus isn’t done yet. It’s no accident that His Parable of the Two Sons follows
immediately after this incident. Jesus tells the Jewish leaders a story about a son who refused to go
and work in the vineyard and then reconsidered, and ended up working there after all. And he tells
of a second son who promised he would work in the vineyard, and then didn’t follow through. And
he asks the people which of these did the will of his father. They correctly reply, “The first.” Then
Jesus drops the bomb. He says, “Truly I tell you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are going into
the kingdom of God ahead of you.”
And of course he’s speaking the truth. Sinners were coming to Jesus and receiving his forgiveness
and healing. Their hearts were exactly where they should be to join the kingdom of God. Humble
and open. Was the same true for the temple authorities? No, they were the ones who put on the
work clothes, postured as religious leaders, and ended up not doing the real vineyard work. So now
I’d like you to try to imagine something if you would. Try to imagine how the chief priests and elders
were feeling at this point. What do you think was going on inside of them? Have you ever
challenged someone in your workplace or school who clearly had a position of greater power? Do
you remember what that was like? You get the look, and then maybe you think, “Uh-oh, now there’ll
be H-E-double hockey sticks to pay.” And of course when Jesus proclaimed his own status as the
Messiah and Son of God, and when he openly and brazenly challenged these usurpers of authority,
His fate was sealed.
As you read the rest of the Gospel you see how their deviousness and manipulation lead directly to
the Crucifixion. But what the power people didn’t know is that this was all part of the divine plan!
The framing of Jesus by the Jewish leaders led to the victory over evil that came with the Cross and
Christ’s bodily Resurrection from the dead. What the power people thought was checkmate against
this enemy of their authority turned out to be exactly the reverse. For the elite of Jerusalem, defeat
was snatched from the jaws of victory, as they say.
Now I’ve said before that the Pharisees and the temple authorities are pretty convenient whipping
boys from the pulpit. We enjoy seeing Jesus, the champion of the underdog, put these self-
important people in their place. But as with many, many teachings in the Bible, they’re there to
instruct us. The fact of the matter is that we live in a culture, and even in a race—the human race—
that’s saturated with the drive to power and the drive to prestige. You may know that Michele has a
graduate degree in social anthropology. We’ve had many coffee talks about the sin nature and how
that intersects with this seemingly universal drive for power. One needs look only as far as many of
our workplaces to see the evidence of this.
The thing is, when we’re steeped in this way of living, it can almost become second nature to us.
And this is where the great collision comes. Because like Jesus we’re called to be countercultural.
Of course this isn’t to say that we’re not to advance our careers and be the best we can be. That’s
common sense. But the question is, how do we do this without sacrificing our Christian principles?
How do we do this without playing worldly power games? That’s where it gets a little trickier.
Jesus confronted people who were slaves to their own ambition. They had no room for the truth
because the truth interfered with their careers. They had no room for honest challenge because it
threatened their status as religious leaders. They were so locked into the religious “system” that
their hearts weren’t even open to God Himself when he came to them in the flesh. I wish I could say
this morning that now, in our newfound obedience and wisdom that these problems are now extinct.
Unfortunately, they’re not. You can find this kind of problem wherever there’s any kind of power
structure, which means just about anywhere, including in the Church. We find it in the House of
Bishops, in many Dioceses and in many congregations. And when it appears, personal ambition
can contaminate the purity of the Gospel message. It can lead to compromise with the culture’s
fallen standards. It can create competition and divisiveness. Like the temple authorities, it can even
deny Christ.
The importance of the gospel message is what made Jesus so determined to confront anyone who
disrupted it. Jesus knew the stakes of what’s involved here. He knew that an accurate perception of
God’s nature and God’s kingdom is absolutely crucial for the salvation of the world. Therefore he
confronted selfishness, ruthlessness, and moral compromise with very strong words. My friends, the
church needs to be, as much as possible, a place of truth and of safety. It needs to be shelter from
the power games of the world. It needs to be a place where we’re focused in unity on God’s agenda
and not on our own agendas.
We at Hope have been blessed with a strong sense of mission and with friendly, committed people. I
can’t think of anyone I’d rather be on the team with in doing God’s work. So my words about
this for us this morning are not intended to be corrective words, but preventive words. As we stand
on the verge of moving into our long-awaited new church home, I’m certain that there are spiritual
forces who don’t want this to succeed. And within churches divisiveness often tends to be our
Achilles heel. If a little seed of discord, or competition, or even defensiveness, can be planted, the
eventual harvest can be a bitter one. But our responsibility isn’t really to look at each other, but at
ourselves. To look inside ourselves and determine whether there’s any seedling of contention or
divisiveness that insists on being expressed. And then to pull out these first seedlings by the root,
and give them to the Lord.
And when others around us allow worldly ways to affect what they do in the church, and we’re hurt
by this, we’re never to respond in kind. We must hold ourselves to be above reproach and follow
Jesus’ command for us to forgive and to pay back offenses with kindness. I’m pleased to say that
this was the general spirit at the Diocesan clergy conference I attended this past week. It was hard
work in some ways, but it was very refreshing.
I would ask us all this morning to let these words penetrate us to our hearts. To succeed in
discharging God’s plan for us in the way He wants for us at Hope in the Desert, in the Diocese of the
Rio Grande, and the Episcopal Church, it’s imperative for us to be clear about our personal
motives. The question that I leave us with is this: Am I going to do my work in the church in the world’
s way, or in God’s way?
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
hypocrisy lightly. He was accused of being the friend of tax collectors & sinners; among his circle of
friends were prostitutes and drunkards; and he gave corrective but kind words to a woman caught in
adultery. He healed some pretty gnarly people in various states of physical distress. The thing all
these people had in common is that they were who they were, and they came into Jesus’ presence
knowing their need. Kind of like the hymn we sang at Communion a couple weeks ago: “Just as I am,
without one plea.” There’s something about being humbly authentic that makes us accessible to
Jesus.
Contrast that with the picture we get in today’s Gospel reading. Jesus had just made some pretty
big waves in the days prior. On the way from Jericho to Jerusalem he healed a couple of blind men.
Then when he got to Jerusalem he made His triumphal entry on the back of a donkey, fulfilling the
famous messianic prophecy of Zechariah.
Shortly afterward he cleansed the temple of the moneychangers, and by his actions basically
declared himself to be the new authority of Israel. His reputation preceded him, and it was based on
a series of incredible signs and wonders, all trumpeting a new kingdom of compassion and healing.
So now Jesus enters the temple, and begins teaching the people. Soon the power people of
Jerusalem appear from the shadows, and then stride right up to the front of the crowd, to Jesus.
Needless to say, they don’t share in the enthusiasm of the common people who’ve been listening to
this rabbi. With menacing glares and soft, carefully measured words they do what they do best. “By
what authority are you doing these things you’ve been doing, and who gave you this authority?”
they ask.
This was a game of intimidation that I’m sure would strike terror into most Jews at that time. When
you had the chief priests and temple elders on your case, you were at least shoulder deep in some
waters you didn’t really want to be wading in.
But Jesus isn’t a person who’s easily intimidated. This is the Messiah, the Son of God, in the final
stages of an earthly mission in which he’ll take on the most powerful force of darkness on earth, and
will prevail. I picture a calm resolve on Jesus’ face as he replies, “I will ask you one question; if you
tell me the answer then I will also tell you by what authority I do these things.” I have a feeling that
this isn’t what the elders and chief priests were expecting. There’s nothing like the element of
surprise to take a little of the starch out of your ephod.
Their sidelong glances at each other prompt Jesus to continue: “My question for you is this: Did the
baptism of John come from heaven, or was it of human origin?” To us this may sound like a total
non sequitur. But the authorities are very quick on the uptake. And at this moment I’m guessing
that they stiffen up and realize that they’re dealing with someone a bit more formidable than they’d
first expected. Because this is kind of like one of those “Have you stopped beating your wife?”
questions. There’s no answer that’s going to get you off the hook. So it’s huddle time. The priests
and elders do the other thing religious leaders do best; they begin arguing with each other.
One says, “If we say, ‘John the Baptist’s authority is from heaven,’ he’ll say to us, ‘Well, why didn’t
you believe him then?’” But if we say, ‘It came from human origin,’ this rabble’s going to turn on us;
because they all regard John as a prophet.” Not bad. Jesus has placed them in quite a dilemma.
So how do they reply? They say, “We don’t know.” That’s it. Isn’t that lame? Jesus has them so
thoroughly flummoxed that they have no idea what to say. So Jesus then responds, “Neither will I tell
you by what authority I’m doing these things.”
Now, a couple quick things about Jesus’ words to them. First, let’s look at what he didn’t say. When
the chief priests and elders said, “We don’t know,” Jesus didn’t say, “Well then, I don’t know either.”
That would have been a lie. Jesus knew full well where His own authority came from: It came from
His Father in heaven. So he didn’t stoop to their level. Instead, he read the dishonesty in their
hearts. He knew that they were saying “We don’t know” because it was the only strategy they could
think of. It was their only “out” in front of the crowd. So Jesus simply says, “Well then, neither will I
tell you by what authority I’m doing these things.” ‘You refuse to answer me? Well, then why should
I feel obligated to answer you?’
I’m guessing there may have been some guarded chuckles and smiles of admiration from some in
the crowd who weren’t big fans of the power people at the temple. OK? The windbags had just been
dissed! (To use the modern parlance.) They’d just received a pretty healthy dose of
comeuppance. But Jesus isn’t done yet. It’s no accident that His Parable of the Two Sons follows
immediately after this incident. Jesus tells the Jewish leaders a story about a son who refused to go
and work in the vineyard and then reconsidered, and ended up working there after all. And he tells
of a second son who promised he would work in the vineyard, and then didn’t follow through. And
he asks the people which of these did the will of his father. They correctly reply, “The first.” Then
Jesus drops the bomb. He says, “Truly I tell you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are going into
the kingdom of God ahead of you.”
And of course he’s speaking the truth. Sinners were coming to Jesus and receiving his forgiveness
and healing. Their hearts were exactly where they should be to join the kingdom of God. Humble
and open. Was the same true for the temple authorities? No, they were the ones who put on the
work clothes, postured as religious leaders, and ended up not doing the real vineyard work. So now
I’d like you to try to imagine something if you would. Try to imagine how the chief priests and elders
were feeling at this point. What do you think was going on inside of them? Have you ever
challenged someone in your workplace or school who clearly had a position of greater power? Do
you remember what that was like? You get the look, and then maybe you think, “Uh-oh, now there’ll
be H-E-double hockey sticks to pay.” And of course when Jesus proclaimed his own status as the
Messiah and Son of God, and when he openly and brazenly challenged these usurpers of authority,
His fate was sealed.
As you read the rest of the Gospel you see how their deviousness and manipulation lead directly to
the Crucifixion. But what the power people didn’t know is that this was all part of the divine plan!
The framing of Jesus by the Jewish leaders led to the victory over evil that came with the Cross and
Christ’s bodily Resurrection from the dead. What the power people thought was checkmate against
this enemy of their authority turned out to be exactly the reverse. For the elite of Jerusalem, defeat
was snatched from the jaws of victory, as they say.
Now I’ve said before that the Pharisees and the temple authorities are pretty convenient whipping
boys from the pulpit. We enjoy seeing Jesus, the champion of the underdog, put these self-
important people in their place. But as with many, many teachings in the Bible, they’re there to
instruct us. The fact of the matter is that we live in a culture, and even in a race—the human race—
that’s saturated with the drive to power and the drive to prestige. You may know that Michele has a
graduate degree in social anthropology. We’ve had many coffee talks about the sin nature and how
that intersects with this seemingly universal drive for power. One needs look only as far as many of
our workplaces to see the evidence of this.
The thing is, when we’re steeped in this way of living, it can almost become second nature to us.
And this is where the great collision comes. Because like Jesus we’re called to be countercultural.
Of course this isn’t to say that we’re not to advance our careers and be the best we can be. That’s
common sense. But the question is, how do we do this without sacrificing our Christian principles?
How do we do this without playing worldly power games? That’s where it gets a little trickier.
Jesus confronted people who were slaves to their own ambition. They had no room for the truth
because the truth interfered with their careers. They had no room for honest challenge because it
threatened their status as religious leaders. They were so locked into the religious “system” that
their hearts weren’t even open to God Himself when he came to them in the flesh. I wish I could say
this morning that now, in our newfound obedience and wisdom that these problems are now extinct.
Unfortunately, they’re not. You can find this kind of problem wherever there’s any kind of power
structure, which means just about anywhere, including in the Church. We find it in the House of
Bishops, in many Dioceses and in many congregations. And when it appears, personal ambition
can contaminate the purity of the Gospel message. It can lead to compromise with the culture’s
fallen standards. It can create competition and divisiveness. Like the temple authorities, it can even
deny Christ.
The importance of the gospel message is what made Jesus so determined to confront anyone who
disrupted it. Jesus knew the stakes of what’s involved here. He knew that an accurate perception of
God’s nature and God’s kingdom is absolutely crucial for the salvation of the world. Therefore he
confronted selfishness, ruthlessness, and moral compromise with very strong words. My friends, the
church needs to be, as much as possible, a place of truth and of safety. It needs to be shelter from
the power games of the world. It needs to be a place where we’re focused in unity on God’s agenda
and not on our own agendas.
We at Hope have been blessed with a strong sense of mission and with friendly, committed people. I
can’t think of anyone I’d rather be on the team with in doing God’s work. So my words about
this for us this morning are not intended to be corrective words, but preventive words. As we stand
on the verge of moving into our long-awaited new church home, I’m certain that there are spiritual
forces who don’t want this to succeed. And within churches divisiveness often tends to be our
Achilles heel. If a little seed of discord, or competition, or even defensiveness, can be planted, the
eventual harvest can be a bitter one. But our responsibility isn’t really to look at each other, but at
ourselves. To look inside ourselves and determine whether there’s any seedling of contention or
divisiveness that insists on being expressed. And then to pull out these first seedlings by the root,
and give them to the Lord.
And when others around us allow worldly ways to affect what they do in the church, and we’re hurt
by this, we’re never to respond in kind. We must hold ourselves to be above reproach and follow
Jesus’ command for us to forgive and to pay back offenses with kindness. I’m pleased to say that
this was the general spirit at the Diocesan clergy conference I attended this past week. It was hard
work in some ways, but it was very refreshing.
I would ask us all this morning to let these words penetrate us to our hearts. To succeed in
discharging God’s plan for us in the way He wants for us at Hope in the Desert, in the Diocese of the
Rio Grande, and the Episcopal Church, it’s imperative for us to be clear about our personal
motives. The question that I leave us with is this: Am I going to do my work in the church in the world’
s way, or in God’s way?
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Jesus and the Power People
Matthew 21:23-32
Matthew 21:23-32
September 28, 2008
Fr. Dan Tuton
Fr. Dan Tuton