Exodus 17: 1-7; Philippians 2: 1-13; Matthew 21: 23-32
If we were sifting through the evidence of what got Jesus killed, this parable of the two sons would be one of the “smoking guns.” In Matthew’s gospel, it’s Monday of Holy Week, Good Friday’s just days away, and Jesus has had a whale of a week. He’s triumphantly entered Jerusalem on a stolen donkey, chased the money changers from the temple, cursed and withered the fig tree, and healed all sorts of undesirables. Now, just as one of the priests is getting ready to start the weekly service, he marches into the temple and begins to preach. No wonder they come after him. “By what authority are you doing all these things?” they demand.
Of course, Jesus never gives people an answer when he thinks they can figure it out for themselves, so he tells a story about two sons – the first who refuses to work in the field, but then changes his mind and does; and the second who says he will, but doesn’t. “Which of the two,” Jesus asks, “did the will of his father?” I don’t think it was the question that got to them – it’s a pretty easy question? How would you answer it – the first, right? And you’d be correct. No, the problem was Jesus’ answer.
Because what Jesus was really asking was whether they believed in talking the talk or walking the walk, whether they came to church, said elegant prayers, and sang gorgeous hymns, and then treated people miserably the rest of the week. In fact, Jesus tells them, it’s the most despised sinners – the prostitutes and the tax collectors – the ones who never even went to church, who said no to God – maybe for most of their lives, but then finally repented and followed Jesus – those are the people who are right up front when the line forms for the kingdom of God. “Single file behind the prostitutes,” Jesus tells the religious leaders. No wonder they wanted to kill him.
Today, Paul exhort us to “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus,” and reminds us that this is not just an intellectual assent; it requires action – one choice at a time. It’s fine to say we believe in striving for justice and peace, it’s fine to tell others we seek to serve Christ in all persons, but if all we ever do is talk about it, then we’re just like the second brother who says ‘yes’ but doesn’t follow through.
Soren Kierkegaard put it this way. “It’s well known” he says, “that Christ consistently used the expression ‘follower.’ He never asked for ‘admirers.’ The difference between an admirer and a follower is that the admirer never makes any true sacrifices. He always plays it safe.” Kierkegaard continues, “Though in words, phrases, songs, he is inexhaustible about how highly he prizes Christ, he renounces nothing, gives up nothing, will not reconstruct his life, will not be what he admires, and will not let his life express what it is he supposedly admires. He fails to understand that what he admires is actually making a claim on him.”1 Hard words for anyone who has ever had trouble walking the walk – which means every one of us.
It’s often not even a conscious process of pretending. We want so much to do the right thing that sometimes we even imagine we have. One of my favorite writers, Barbara Brown Taylor, puts it this way, “Maybe we have such good imaginations that we actually believe we’ve done things we really only thought about doing. Have you ever thought about visiting a friend who was having a hard time; rehearsed what you wanted to say; then decided on a phone call, then a text, then a tweet; then considered what a nice gesture that would be; then congratulated yourself on your thoughtfulness… and then promptly forgot about it?”
“I hope I’m not the only one here who’s done that,” she says. “I’ve even had a hard time later remembering whether I’ve sent that e-mail or not. I believe I’m the kind of person who does things like that, but sometimes I don’t actually do them. I just roll the ideas around in my mind until I’ve sucked all the sweetness out of them and then I swallow them. It’s so easy,” she concludes, “to get our rhetoric mixed up with our actions.” 2
A college chaplain I know loves telling a story about a young man he met who was adamant about not coming to church. When asked why, he explained, “Because everyone at church is a hypocrite.” The chaplain smiled and replied, “Well, why don’t you come on down and make it one more?”
The real question may be, “How do we live faithfully in the midst of our own hypocrisy?” Well, there’s some very good news in today’s lessons. First, no matter how long we’ve been away, it’s never too late to come home to God. And second, the choice to embrace the claim God makes on us – no matter how many times we have to make it, or how much we screw up before or after each choice – is not the burden it sounds like. Actually, it’s the doorway to a life of meaning, full of gratitude and peace. After all, why did Jesus bother telling us all these parables? Listen to his words in the gospel of John, “I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete.”3
1 Kierkegaard, S., & Moore, C. E. (2003). Provocations: Spiritual writings of Kierkegaard. Maryknoll, N.Y: Orbis, p. 336.
2 Barbara Brown Taylor (1999). The Yes and No Brothers. Home by Another Way. Cambridge MA: Cowley Publications, p. 189.
3 John 15: 11