Sermon for Pentecost 17: "Jesus and the Jerusalem Authorities"

 + 17^th Sunday after Pentecost – September 27^th, 2020 +

Series A: Ezekiel 18:1-4, 25-32; Philippians 2; Matthew 21:23-32

Beautiful Savior Lutheran 

Milton, WA

 

 

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

 

If I were to write a ticket or arrest someone for speed down Milton Way, I would probably be fined for impersonating a police officer, and rightfully so. I don’t have the authority. Or, if I were to walk into an operating room at St. Joseph’s or Good Samaritan hospital and perform a surgery, I could very well be charged with attempted homicide, and for good reason…I am not a physician. I don’t have that authority. 

 

It’s a matter of authority.

 

And when Jesus entered the temple, the chief priests and the elders of the people came up to him as he was teaching, and said, “By what authority are you doing these things, and who gave you this authority?” 

 

Today’s reading from Matthew 21 is a matter of authority. The Jerusalem religious authorities are challenging Jesus’ authority. “Who do you think you are riding into Jerusalem on a donkey like a some kind of Messiah? Turning over tables in “His house”. Strolling into the temple and teaching the people as though he owned the place?” 

 

By what authority are you doing these things, and who gave you this authority?” 

 

The keyword is authority. And in the minds of 1^st century Jews, no one operated on their own authority. Authority had to come from somewhere and someone. We tend to equate authority with power. And it involves that, but much more. 

 

Authority, even today, is given, not claimed for oneself. Someone is granted, vested with, appointed or elected to a position of authority. It’s a matter of permission granted by another to do certain things. The police officer for law enforcement. The doctor for surgeries and physical wellbeing. To have authority is to have permission, authorization from someone greater to say and do certain things. The same thing happens when I pronounce the absolution: when I say, “I forgive you all your sins in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit,” I do so in the stead and by the command of our Lord Jesus Christ. By His authority. His permission. 

 

“By what authority are you doing these things, and who gave you this authority?” 

 

Now, we already know the answer to this question. Jesus teaches the crowds with authority. Jesus heals and forgives the paralytic man with authority. Jesus calms the wind and waves with authority. Jesus sends out his disciples with authority. After Jesus’ death and resurrection he declares, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.” Yes, we know where Jesus’ authority comes from. From God the Father, from all eternity. 

 

But of course, the religious authorities have no interest in Jesus’s authority. What sounds like a holy, pious question only reveals their hypocrisy, unbelief, and rejection of Jesus, a conflict which only intensifies as Matthew’s Gospel continues on to Jesus’ trial and crucifixion.

 

So Jesus takes the bait. Plays their game. And ends up turning the tables on more than the money changers.  “I also will ask you one question, and if you tell me the answer, then I also will tell you by what authority I do these things.  The baptism of John, from where did it come? From heaven or from man?” 

 

Jesus essentially asks them, “Was John sent from God or did he just make all that Messiah stuff up? And if John was sent from God, what does that say about my baptism in the Jordan River?” You see, the answer to Jesus’ question is the same answer to the chief priests’ question. Jesus’s authority, like John’s baptism came from heaven, from God the Father.

 

You have to appreciate how Jesus artfully, skillfully sets this trap for the religious authorities to walk right into, and they know it. They go into their corner like contestants on Family Feud and deliberate. “Well, if we say, ‘From heaven,’ he will say to us, ‘Why then did you not believe him?’ But if we say, ‘From man,’ we are afraid of the crowd, for they all hold that John was a prophet.” 

 

Jesus beats them at their own game. They make the political play. The cowardly answer, taking no stand at all. “We do not know”. It’s an answer of self-condemnation. They’re caught in their hypocrisy and sin. They fear the loss of their popularity, prestige, and political influence more than they fear, love, and trust in God and his Christ.

 

But isn’t the same true of us as well? As Jesus reveals their pride, hypocrisy, and sin, he also reveals ours. Jesus challenges our authority too. For like the chief priests we so often act and speak as if we are our own authority. That we have lived as if God and my neighbor do not matter, and that I matter most. My kingdom come. My will be done. Yes, Jesus’s words reveal the chief priest in us all. 

 

And yet, Jesus’s conflict with the chief priests reveals something even greater. It reveals his love for sinners, even those who reject him and will crucify him later on. Jesus longs to bring them to repentance and faith, just as he spoke through his prophet Ezekiel so long ago, that he desires not the death of the wicked but that they repent and live – all by God’s grace in Christ. Same is true for us. 

 

It’s a matter of authority. And notice how Jesus exercises his authority. Not selfishly, but selflessly. Laying down his life for the chief priests and for us chief of sinners. Not in power but in his passion on the cross for you. Not in hubris, but in humility. For you, Jesus emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.

 

It’s a matter of authority.

 

And you live under the authority of Jesus crucified and risen. He repents you. He gives you faith in Him. He baptizes you in His name. He gives you love for your neighbor. He continues to teach you with authority in his life-giving Word. He continues to heal you miraculously in his body and blood. 

 

Trust his authority to save you. For He is authorized by the Father to save you, and He has done it. All for you.

 

In the Name of + Jesus. Amen.

 

The peace of God which surpasses all understanding will keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen. 

Sermon for Pentecost 16: "The Parable of the Gracious Vineyard Owner"

 +16^th Sunday after Pentecost – September 20^th, 2020 +

Series A: Isaiah 55:6-9; Philippians 1:12-30; Matthew 20:1-16

Beautiful Savior Lutheran

Milton, WA

 

 

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

 

A misnomer. That’s the word we use when a person, place, or thing is mis-named. Like when you haul out a few classics for family game night only to discover that Yahtzee is better called “Yelling and Bookkeeping.” Sorry…Hah! More like not sorry! And Monopoly is a good recipe for family fight night.  

 

That’s what we in Matthew 20, a marvelous biblical example of a misnomer. 

 

Most of our bibles call this story the Parable of the Laborers in the Vineyard. And while the laborers in the vineyard are an important part of this parable, they’re not the most important. It’s about the master of the vineyard.

 

Calling it the Parable of the Laborers of the Vineyard isn’t wrong, it just buries the lead; puts the emphasis on the wrong syllable. It’s meant to draw our attention away from our work and wages and the works and wages of others and onto the gracious work of the vineyard owner.  

 

As we’ll see, Jesus’s parable should really be called something like “The Parable of the Outlandishly Gracious Vineyardist,” or “The Parable of the Mercifully Unfair Vineyard Owner,” or “The Parable of the Outrageously Generous Master of the Vineyard.” 

 

For that’s what this parable is all about: God’s mercy, grace, and generosity for all in Jesus. It’s about God giving us all what we don’t deserve so that we all live by his grace in Christ.

 

Here’s how the story begins. “For the kingdom of heaven is like a master of a house who went out early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard. After agreeing with the laborers for a denarius^[ a day, he sent them into his vineyard. 

 

So far so good. This seems to fit our understanding of economics. A denarius was roughly a day’s wages. Put in your 12-hour shift. Clock in. Clock out. Get paid your denarius. That’s the way of the world. But remember, the ways of the world are not the ways of the kingdom of heaven.

 

Then, for whatever reason – maybe high yield, maybe a quick harvest was needed – whatever it was, the master needed more workers. So he goes to the local downtown market and offers to pay what is right. 

 

‘You go into the vineyard too, and whatever is right I will give you.’ So they went. Going out again about the sixth hour and the ninth hour, he did the same. That’s 12 noon and 3 pm in our reckoning. 

 

Later on…about the eleventh hour the master went out and found others standing. And he said to them, ‘Why do you stand here idle all day?’  They said to him, ‘Because no one has hired us.’ He said to them, ‘You go into the vineyard too.’ 

 

I don’t know about you, but this vineyard owner is a rather odd fellow. It’s the 11^th hour, 5pm. One hour to quittin’ time. And yet he goes out and hires more laborers. 

 

Here’s where the fun really begins. The vineyard owner said to his foreman, ‘Call the laborers and pay them their wages, beginning with the last, up to the first.’ So the 11^th hour workers get in line first. And to their surprise – and the surprise of the guys at the end of the line – they get a denarius. A day’s wage. Let’s say $120. $10 an hour. Pretty good, right?! Absolutely. Generous. Gracious. 

 

Now, put yourself in the sandals of the guys at the end of the line. They’re watching the foreman handout a denarius to the guys at the head of the line. And they’re thinking, calculating, “Whoa, a day’s wage for only an hour of work? That’s a denarius an hour. $1,440 a day. Sweet!”

 

But what did they receive? The same. Equal. They all received a denarius. And what was their reaction? We’ve all heard it. Thought it. Said it. “That’s not fair.” ‘These last worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat.’ 

 

They grumbled. Israel grumbled in the wilderness. The Pharisees grumbled against Jesus when he ate with tax collectors and sinners. They grumbled against the master’s generosity. “Listen buddy, “I am doing you no wrong. Did you not agree with me for a denarius?  Take what belongs to you and go. I choose to give to this last worker as I give to you.  Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or do you begrudge my generosity? Literally, Jesus says, they have an evil eye towards the master. They despise his generosity and graciousness. 

 

What does this all mean? Why does Jesus tell his disciples this parable? In part, to burst the disciples’ (and our) giant bubble of pride and self-righteousness. In the kingdom of heaven, there’s no room for self-righteousness, only the righteousness that comes by grace in Christ. That’s how we live, labor, love our neighbor – by grace in Christ. 

 

Remember the misnomer. It’s not about the laborers. It’s about the grace and generosity of the vineyard owner. The day-long laborers in the story get it all wrong when they start comparing their work and wages to the other laborers, especially those 11^th hour guys. So the disciples. So do we. 

 

So the last will be first, and the first last. That’s the key to the whole story.

 

For the ways of the kingdom of heaven are not like the kingdoms of this world. As Isaiah says, the thoughts of this gracious vineyard owner are not our thoughts. God does not reward the rewardable. He is good, generous, gracious. God shows his love for us in this, that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. The kingdom of heaven is not about our merit, earning, working, or any transaction with God. It’s not about how good or bad we think we are, or how good and bad we actually are. It’s not about us. It’s about the Gracious vineyard owner, which means this parable is about Jesus crucified for you.

 

It’s about Jesus who went to the cross that we who are last in sin and death might be made first in his life laid down for us. It’s about Jesus who labored on the cross from the 6^th to the 9^th hour, who bore the burden of our trespasses, and the scorching heat of God’s wrath – all for you. It’s about the generous vineyard owner who sent his son to be the true vine, and to stretch out his arms from the cross to this altar, this cup, this bread. To give you the wages – not of sin – but of his very life won for you. For all. Forever.

 

In the Name of + Jesus. Amen. 

The peace of God which surpasses all understanding will keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.