It was bound to happen at
some point. Like a video game character who slowly and methodically encounters
and then bests the competition in each level of a video game, Jesus has slowly worked
his way through the opposition in the small synagogues and communities through
Galilee and has finally arrived at the final stage. He is in Jerusalem now—the crowded,
cosmopolitan, capital city, with its colossal Temple and hornet’s nest of
religious activity. The challenges to his ministry that were thrown out by the priests,
Pharisees, and scribes in all those small towns outside of Jerusalem had been,
for the most part, easy for Jesus to handle. But the ones who congregated in
and around the “big league” Temple up in Jerusalem were the best and the
brightest. They were the chief priests. And if those guys weren’t exactly the best and the brightest, they
were certainly the most influential religious leaders and the ones most
concerned with maintaining the status quo. They helped control the levers of
power that kept the Roman occupying government pacified and the local Jewish
population calm and obedient.
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| Jesus cleanses the temple |
Therefore, when Jesus enters
Jerusalem and the local population waves palm branches before him and acclaims
him as Son of David, King of Israel, the chief priests and scribes get more
than a little irritated. And when Jesus makes a bee-line for the Temple and
drives out all their money-changers’ tables and upsets the system of keeping
religious order in place, they zero in on him immediately. There in the Temple
they confront him like the big, fierce opponents that they are. It was bound to
happen at some point: Jesus would get in trouble with the final authorities.
That is the scene we witness
today, just so you have an idea of what the stakes are. I was never very good
at video games, but I was always in awe of my cousins who could reach the final
level on Super Mario Brothers and Mike Tyson’s Punch Out. It involved knowing
how to press the buttons on the game controller at just the right time and in
just the right order. We can similarly be in awe of Jesus’ ability to silence
them. He knows how to respond to their traps with just the right
counter-questions so they don’t know how to respond.
Their main concern is over
Jesus’ authority, itself. Where is he getting the authority to do the things
that he’s doing? No one just walks into the Temple and starts teaching, much
less flipping over tables, unless he can claim someone gave him the authority
to do so. His response to them about where they stand on John the Baptist’s
authority is not really straightforward. Jesus doesn’t come out and say, “God
the Father gave me this authority,” but what he does say is very clever and
manages to silence them.
He knows that, for one, the
religious authorities are not genuinely curious about him. They are only
confronting him in this manner because they are trying to trap him. If they
catch him in a trap, if they catch him saying something that is outright
blasphemous, they can do him in.
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| the chief priests question Jesus, still from Jesus of Nazareth |
Secondly, Jesus answers in a
less than straightforward manner because he is a little hesitant to put
right out there all of the details about his identity as Son of God and where
his authority comes from. To us, this may seem strange and a little shady. It
may seem like he’s ducking and weaving, but, in fact, Jesus is always a little
reluctant to declare too much about what and who he is. The reason is because
if people reach any premature conclusions about his identity and the nature of
his power before the final event of his crucifixion, their understanding will
be entirely incomplete. Jesus is the Messiah, but he is the suffering Messiah. Jesus
is powerful Lord of all, but he is chiefly going to display that power on the
cross. In short, Jesus holds all of God’s authority, but he exercises that
authority by laying it aside completely. No one will really understand that
kind of authority—or know how to respond to it—until after he is hung on the
cross in shame. That is, it’s bound to happen at some point: the people will
eventually comprehend just what kind of Savior Jesus is, but it won’t be here
in the Temple, and it won’t be this day.
Before the religious leaders
slink off to conspire again, Jesus
follows up with this this short parable about the two sons who are asked by
their father to go work in the vineyard. In Jesus’ day, rejecting a father’s
authority in public by declining to do what he asked was a big no-no. It was
seen as a direct challenge to the father’s status and power. The first son would
have raised serious eyebrows. Even a polite “No, thank you, dad” would have
been viewed like a temper tantrum. This son would have been shunned and
ridiculed and treated in his society similar to the way that folks like the tax
collectors and prostitutes were treated by the religious leaders.
The second son, by contrast,
says, “Sure, I’ll go work,” thereby maintaining that level of public respect, but
then never follows through on that promise. This second son certainly would
have looked good, as someone who agrees to the right authority, but he never
enjoys the full relationship of that authority. He certainly would have fit
right in to the surrounding cultural mores, appearing dutiful and respectable, but
never really joining his will to that of his father.
Meanwhile, it dawns on the first
son that living under of the authority of his father is something good for him,
and that the invitation to go work is still open. He changes his mind, even
though he would have been written off by so many for publicly rejecting at
first, and is welcomed under his father’s authority.
It is easy when hearing this
parable to get stuck on the comparison between these two sons, trying to figure
out which one we are more like…or, as is more often the case, trying to label
other people in terms of the two sons. That was certainly one of Jesus’ points
in telling it; that is, to cause reflection upon the ways in which the hearer
does or doesn’t respond.
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| Jesus condemned (artist unknown) |
However, what would have been
most peculiar to the listeners in Jesus age, would have not have been the
reactions of the two sons, but the reaction of the father. This father does
nothing to scold or punish or reject the first son, the one who initially
rejects him. This strange father does nothing to write him out of the will or
shower praise on the second, publicly-obedient son. This father shows compassion
and patience. He displays longsuffering and openness. His invitation to work in
the vineyard doesn’t not immediately expire…as if it’s just one offer and then
done. Rather, it seems to be open, waiting for as many of his sons and workers
as possible to join in on the fun.
That father, you see, realizes
what’s bound to happen at some point: the first son will realize it’s better to
work in the vineyard, even if he insulted and defied that father in the first
place. That father understands that eventually his children will realize that
although his authority is firm and clear, it is exercised graciously and in a
loving manner. That father understands that it will dawn on his children at
some point that his power is made known in his compassion, that, to quote Jesus
in an earlier scene, he desires mercy, not sacrifice.
As for the tax collectors and
prostitutes, Jesus tells the dutiful religious authorities (who have said
“Yes,” to God’s authority so many times but then never follow through), they
and the other sinners may have publicly chosen a life that rejects God’s
desires, but they are changing their minds and responding to their Father’s
invitation and guess what: they’re probably loving the chance to go back and
work in the vineyard.
This peculiar father and the
way he allows admittance to his vineyard is the very father Jesus has come to
represent. This peculiar way of showing authority—by suffering with patience
and dying to show compassion—is the very way our God demonstrates his love for
us on the cross. Eventually we will understand, through faith, that his kingdom
is open to us, and it’s not so much the issue that any of us has to live under his authority, but
that we get to. We get to say, “That
kingdom is really where I want to be—and because of Jesus, I may be there.”
For Scripture assures us,
that’s bound to happen at some point too. One day every knee—in heaven and on
earth and under the earth—shall bow and every tongue will confess his
authority. We’ll reach that final level, so to speak, to find him there before
us: he who submitted to the worst of our earthly authorities—our torture, our
coercive ways, our despicable violence, the dubious nature of all our
tendencies of human power—he will be the final authority. All of creation will
answer to him and wrestle with his justice…and there will be no tricky responses
that will enable us to wiggle our way out of it. At some point, it’s bound to
happen. He will be ours to confess, no matter how many times we’ve denied it
beforehand.
So, in the meantime, let’s
give some thought to that vineyard. It’s better to be in there right now anyway,
under the authority of a father who, for the time-being, is leaving the gate
open for one and all.
The Reverend Phillip W. Martin, Jr.
