Sermon for Proper 21: By Who's Authority?

 By Who’s Authority?

Collect (Proper 21): O God, you declare your almighty power chiefly in showing mercy and pity: Grant us the fullness of your grace, that we, running to obtain your promises, may become partakers of your heavenly treasure; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. 

Exodus 17:1-7         Give us water to drink!

Psalm 78:1-4, 12-16    I will declare the mysteries of ancient times

Philippians 2:1-13         (he) emptied himself

Matthew 21:21-32         By what authority are you doing these things?

Give ear O heavens, and I will speak; let the earth hear the words of my mouth, 

for I will proclaim the Name of the Lord, and ascribe greatness to our God.

************

“What do you think,” asked Jesus. “A man had two sons …”

There is an old saying: A parable is an earthly story with a heavenly meaning.

We have a good example of that in the gospel today. A man has two sons. He asks one kid to go work in the vineyard. He says no, but later does what he was asked to do. The other child was also asked to go work in the vineyard. He said, “Sure pops. No problem.” But then he went and did something else and never got around to doing what he said he would do.

Which of the two was obedient? Which of the two was faithful? Which of the two was a model for what it means to be a child of God, a child of the covenant?

Now, if you're like me (and let's pray you're not), you know the right answer. The Pharisees and rulers of the temple knew the answer. “The one who did as they were told.”

But is that the right answer?

I look at both these kids and neither one is much to brag about. Neither one honors their father, really, do they? One says no; the other “does” no. Even though one changes their mind, I still find my face turning red, my stomach churning, and my brain wondering if maybe we shouldn't bring back the Rack and the Office of the Inquisitors!

But that's what Jesus does. He gives us a short story that tells us something about God and about God's children, and we make a mistake if we stop where the temple bosses stopped.

“Who is the honorable child?” he asks. And the answer is: neither one. And that's the point.

Our temptation is to immediately assume we are the obedient child. As soon as we do that, of course, we forget the first half of that child's response to their father's request. “No. No I won't. No, you can't make me. No, I don't want to.” The Brat!

Our temptation is to gloss over reality. Our temptation is to believe that we are the hero in our own story – and we are – but we are also the villain.

I always strive never to use my own children as examples in sermons, but since this story goes back 30+ years, I think the statute of limitations has run its course, and it's probably not too different from your own experiences as parents or as children.

Our son was about 10 or 12 and was responsible for closing the garage door at the end of the day. We had a detached garage. One winter’s night I looked out as our son went to bed and noticed the garage door was still open. I was tired of reminding him each night to go close it, so having reached the end of my tether I waited until he was all snuggled up under his nice warm blankets and eyes closed all angel-like. As soon as I was sure he was as warm and comfortable as was humanly possible I flipped on his bedroom light and said in my best imitation of a top-sergeant’s voice, “David, you forgot to close the garage door again. Get out there and close it NOW!”

I didn't let him put on a robe or coat, even though it was probably 20 degrees (give or take). I made him go do his job, and when he was done I said, “Thank you.” 

And the world went back to turning on her axis once again.

Was our son a disobedient child? Of course not. He was a ten year old airhead. He wasn't bad or evil. He was simply a little ADHD, and as best I can tell, he never forgot to close the garage door after that. 

“The kingdom of heaven is like that,” says Jesus. We do what we shouldn't, or we fail to do what we should, or we give things a half-hearted effort – close enough for government work, my dad would say – and we move on. 

Our temptation today is to look at this story and identify with the first child, the one who “repents” (to use that wonderful church word), but in reality, sometimes we do, and sometimes we don't, and either way, we are still children of the father, aren't we?

The parables of Jesus only have power if we put ourselves into them, not as one character or the other, but as each character in the story. The stories have power because there is no one “right answer." 

It’s not like taking a Math Quiz or a History Test where there is only one right answer.

Jesus is being tested, of course. “By what authority are you doing this?” they ask. 

These are the chief priests and elders of the temple. They have their place – their power – because they were born into it. That was their world and their world-view. 

For someone who was just a village handyman, the big-wigs want to know: “What gives you the right to come in here, interrupt the Temple Commerce and teach?”

Jesus laughs, of course, and asks them: “Let me ask you first: By what authority did John the Baptizer baptize?”

The irony, of course, is that the “authorities” wouldn’t answer their own question: “by what authority …?”

What’s even more ironic is that Jesus then answers the question with the parable we heard this morning, the Parable of the Two Sons – but it’s really the Parable of the Father’s Authority. (isn’t it?)

We get caught up with the two kids, but really, it’s the Father – the Head of the Household – we should be looking at. 

“Go work in my vineyard,” he says. 

That’s our authority as children of God. It’s such a short exchange we miss it, but that’s the crux of the matter. “Go work in my vineyard.”

That’s what John the Baptizer was doing as he baptized and challenged folks to clean up their lives and act like children of a holy God.

That’s what Jesus was doing when he went into the temple and pitched a fit: “People should be coming to pray,” he said, “but you’ve turned this into a house of ill repute.”

“The business of the temple is prayer,” he says, “but you’ve turned it into a den of thieves. You’ve gone from worshiping God to worshiping Gold.”

Jesus says, “There are really only two kinds of people: those who rebel, then change their lives and get back on track – and those who put on a happy face and do whatever the heck they want to, and leave the track behind.”

Nothing has changed. The mission of the church hasn’t changed. We are children of God, and God’s vineyard needs tending. There are fences to mend, vines to trim, grapes to harvest, seeds to plant, irrigation hoses to move around, weeds to pull. The list goes on and on.

In the life of the church, there’s committees and commissions, there’s altar guild and music, worship leaders and lectors, eucharistic visitors, ushers, and greeters, and all the work we have to do to keep our church safe for everyone who comes through those doors, who seek sanctuary or a cup of cold water, hot coffee, or a friendly smile. 

By what authority do we do these things and more? 

By the authority of the One who says, “Go work in my vineyard today.” Why? Because the vineyard needs tending, and that’s why God has put us here.

It all goes back to the first couple of chapters of Genesis. When God had finished all their work, and before they went down for their afternoon nap, they said to the first couple: “Take care of my creation; take care of one another.”

That’s the work we’ve been given. It’s really as simple as that. The only thing we have left to decide is: 

Will I be one who says NO, but does what they’re supposed to do eventually (with enough nagging), 

or will I be one who says yes, but then ignores their task-du-jour?

This is the Lord’s vineyard. Each of us and all of us together have work to do. No matter how well or how poorly we may do what we’ve been called to do, we are still children of God, loved by God, and called by God to take care of the vineyard and to take care of one another.

At the end of the day, that’s our mission, that’s our garage door. It is God who sends us out, and that’s all the authority we need to go and serve the Lord. Thanks be to God! 

Amen.

Sermon delivered by the Rev. Keith Axberg to St. Paul’s (Mount Vernon, WA) 09/27/2026

Matthew 21:23-32

When Jesus entered the temple, the chief priests and the elders of the people came to him as he was teaching, and said, “By what authority are you doing these things, and who gave you this authority?” Jesus said to them, “I will also ask you one question; if you tell me the answer, then I will also tell you by what authority I do these things. Did the baptism of John come from heaven, or was it of human origin?” And they argued with one another, “If we say, ‘From heaven,’ he will say to us, ‘Why then did you not believe him?’ But if we say, ‘Of human origin,’ we are afraid of the crowd; for all regard John as a prophet.” So they answered Jesus, “We do not know.” And he said to them, “Neither will I tell you by what authority I am doing these things.

“What do you think? A man had two sons; he went to the first and said, ‘Son, go and work in the vineyard today.’ He answered, ‘I will not’; but later he changed his mind and went. The father went to the second and said the same; and he answered, ‘I go, sir’; but he did not go. Which of the two did the will of his father?” They said, “The first.” Jesus said to them, “Truly I tell you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are going into the kingdom of God ahead of you. For John came to you in the way of righteousness and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors and the prostitutes believed him; and even after you saw it, you did not change your minds and believe him.”

Meditating on Proper 20: No Worries

 

Proper 20    

The Sunday closest to September 21

Grant us, Lord, not to be anxious about earthly things, but to
love things heavenly; and even now, while we are placed among
things that are passing away, to hold fast to those that shall
endure; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns
with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Preface of the Lord's Day

Image by Grok

Anxiety is a plague. It devours the soul. It tosses a dark, heavy, water-logged hood over one’s face, suffocating its victim as it snuffs out all hope and joy – an emotional form of waterboarding, if you will.

I grew up in the era of Mad Magazine’s Alfred E. Neuman’s, “What, Me Worry?” take on life. Yes, there is a lot of bad stuff happening. Anyone can see that, but we do what we can do and leave the rest to God. As Jesus says in the Sermon on the Mount, “Will worrying add an inch to your height or a day to your span of life?” (Matthew 6) He doesn’t suggest we ignore life’s dangers, but neither should we obsess over them.

There is a well-known Bob Newhart sketch where a woman comes to visit Newhart (who plays a psycho-therapist). She confesses her fear of being buried alive in a box, so she’s afraid of closed spaces, like elevators. Newhart gives her a simple phrase to overcome her phobia: STOP IT! Every time she raises an objection, he reiterates his advice, “Just Stop It!”

It is easier said than done, though, isn’t it? Our fears are often irrational, and anxiety is simply fear run amuck. There’s nothing wrong with fear, per se. It has helped us survive life as hunter/gatherers. Fear of hunger led us to invent a variety of means for safely storing food. Fear of carnivores and enemies led us to invent fortresses and fire. Some clumsy cave-dweller probably dropped a skinned rabbit onto a fire one day and we “discovered” the joy of barbecuing. The point is, fear helps us survive, but anxiety puts so much stress on us that we burn out, get sick, and die before our time is truly up.

So in today’s collect, we acknowledge just how prone we are to becoming anxious little squirrels, so busy finding and hiding our nuts we fail to see the vultures circling overhead. Yes, gathering is important. Maintaining our homes and habitats is important. But so is maintaining good relations within our families and communities. So is taking time out to thank God for what we DO have, and not fretting about what may or may not happen today or tomorrow.

This is not to minimize just how dangerous our world is, how prone it is to make us anxious. The world profits off our anxiety. Our teeth will never be white enough, nor our breath fresh enough, nor our cars safe enough, nor our politicians honest enough. The fruit pie snack I bought as a child for thirteen cents is almost three dollars at the local convenience store today. The college education that cost me under five hundred dollars a year for tuition at Wazzu is about $14,000 annually now (not including books, food, lodging, etc.). 

So Jesus invites us to keep our wits about us, pay attention to the signs of the times – not to fret over them, but so that we may make prudent decisions when the time comes.

We need help sifting through the debris that washes over us from the tsunami of misinformation and propaganda vomiting forth from the mouths of the world’s pundits and influencers. The best defense against any anxiety we may confront is the umbrella of truth – to “love things heavenly” as our prayer puts it. What are “things heavenly” you ask? 

That God created us. God created the world (and it was (and IS) good), and God created us in God’s image, and from the beginning, God gave us two main tasks: Take care of creation; take care of one another. I would add, take care of yourself, too. Those admonitions lie at the heart of God’s call to love God, Neighbor, and self.

We are reminded that there is stuff that passes away, and there is stuff that lasts forever. Our time on earth is limited, so we are called to do the best we can to take care of our corner of the world – our community, our church, our neighbors, our families, and so on. God invites us to walk hand in hand with both neighbor and God. That way we will hold fast to that which endures. More than that, we hold fast to the One who endures. So fear not. We stand in the light of a loving savior. Amen.

Meditating on Proper 19: Pleasing God

 

Proper 19    

The Sunday closest to September 14

O God, because without you we are not able to please you,
mercifully grant that your Holy Spirit may in all things direct
and rule our hearts; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives
and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and
for ever. Amen.

Preface of the Lord's Day

The Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday after September 14 are the
traditional autumnal Ember Days.

Image by Grok

What pleases God? Have you ever wondered that?

When I first started attending church, the focus of the sermons always seemed to be on the wonderful loving power of God. God was described using the three big O-words (Omniscient, Omnipotent, Omnipresent) – all-knowing, all-powerful, all-present. Like Santa, God knew what I was doing, what I was thinking, how I was feeling – and I was scared to death.

Why? What evil had I done? What wickedness lolled around that brain bucket of mine?

Nothing as best I could tell, and yet the idea of never being able to get away from God, or having my every thought scrutinized and judged scared the heck out of me, because I had no control over those things. I could be oh so nice to people to their faces while thinking in the back of my mind, “What a piece of work THEY are,” or “Just how more stupid could you be?”

See, my actions were almost always decent. I didn’t run around stealing things. I didn’t bully anyone, including my brother and sisters. I listened to my parents and respected them. I went to church when they took us. I had been baptized and confirmed. I was even starting to think God was calling me to be a priest. Goodness; had God just suffered a major stroke?

Oh, there I go again. That brain. That soul. That spirit of mine. What a worthless worm I am. And God wants me? God wants me to be a priest? How on earth can I do that when I am convinced with 99% certainty that I am going to the place that if you say the name people get upset? 

Yes, when I was growing up, there were words one did not use in polite company, but I knew them all (or at least a good portion), and even if I didn’t say them, they banged around that space behind my teeth just trying as best they could to escape. Words, especially cuss words, do not like to be restrained!

I have since learned that God does not call us to be perfect. God, indeed, does know what lies in a person’s soul and what wants to escape a person's tongue. And unlike the kindly old soul who sees no evil, hears no evil, and speaks no evil, God sees, hears, and knows. But God also loves, and just as a mother washes down a scraped knee and applies Bactine, Mercurochrome, or their modern equivalents, so does God wash and tend our wounds, kiss our boo-boos to make them feel better, and grant us time we need to rest and heal.

So what is pleasing to God? To pass it on; to pay it forward; to do unto others as God has done unto us; to forgive relentlessly.

I should say a word here: to forgive does not mean to forget or let bygones be bygones. It doesn’t mean eliminating accountability of those who said or did hurtful things. It doesn’t necessarily mean reconciliation. No victim of bullying or abuse needs to forgive if that entails letting the other “go.” Forgiving means passing that hurt along to God, who will judge, who does judge, and who deals with their children as best they need to.

To forgive means to say, “I am not responsible for what you have said or done.” To forgive is to remove the chains or shackles to that “other” so that both you and they are free to move along, each responsible and answerable to God, and God alone. We don’t do any of that perfectly, of course. Life is messy. People can change, or stay the same, or find new ways to fool us, hurt us, or let us down.

Our task, though, is to please God, which is the heart of our prayer today. Our lives are messy. We are imperfect. Sometimes I don’t want to do what God wants me to do. Sometimes I want to run away like Jonah or cut off someone’s ear like Peter. So we ask God to help us. 

Without God’s help, we simply cannot please God. We ask God’s Spirit to rule and guide our hearts so that everything we say or do will be more like incense rising to heaven than burning tires. When it comes to pleasing God, I rather think we are daring to approach God like Oliver, empty bowl in hand, and asking, “More, please.” And unlike the harsh headmaster, God is pleased to smile and say, “As you wish.” Amen.

Meditating on Proper 18: Trust in God with your whole heart

 

Proper 18    

The Sunday closest to September 7

Grant us, O Lord, to trust in you with all our hearts; for, as
you always resist the proud who confide in their own strength,
so you never forsake those who make their boast of your
mercy; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns
with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever.
Amen.

Preface of the Lord's Day

Image by grok

It’s hard to trust in God. It’s hard to trust in anyone or anything. At least that’s true for those who have been let down or disappointed with people or situations that have arisen in their lives. Some folks are resilient. They fall down and get right back up. Others lie there, flopping around like a wounded fish out of water, screaming and crying about just how unfair life is in general, or their lives in particular.

I honestly don’t know why that is. Is it nature or nurture? Is it survival of the fittest or just plain, dumb luck? Is it genetic or cultural?

These are matters we wrestle with. As the Apostle Paul says, we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but principalities and powers, against the rulers of darkness, against spiritual wickedness in high places (Ephesians 6:12). Elsewhere he says, “If God be for us, who can be against us?” (Romans 8:31). The answer seems pretty self-evident: Who can be against us? The world, the flesh, and the devil!

It can certainly feel that way at times, but our collect today invites us to take our noses out of the papers and news or propaganda sources for just a moment and pause. Take a breath. Inhale … slowly … through your nose …  Exhale slowly … through your mouth. Just take a minute and do that. In. Out. Breathe. Close your eyes. Let the last words you heard dribble out your ears while the last images you saw run down your cheeks; breathe.

If you're lounging in a recliner, put your feet back down, squarely on the floor. Fold your hands gently in your lap. Sit up straight. And breathe.

Spirit. Wind. Breath. Life. Peace. Shalom. 

Once you have erased everything on the blackboard of your mind (or whiteboard for you techies out there), your pulse should be a bit slower, your breathing a bit more relaxed, your storm-tossed gut a bit less frothy.

Now we are ready to pray: Grant us, O Lord, to trust in you with our whole hearts.

It’s hard to trust in God. 

“God helps those who help themselves,” goes the old saying. It’s not an either/or proposition, of course. It’s a both/and. We ask God to help us because many of us have trouble letting go of past hurts, past disappointments. We have trouble letting go of our training: “If you want it done right, do it yourself!” 

It’s hard to trust God. So we pray: Grant us Lord to trust in you. Help us get over ourselves, in other words. There is life, death, loss, grief. True. But there is also God. There is also God’s community – the Church. Brothers and sisters. Friends and neighbors. We are God’s hands, feet, heart, and soul. Our prayer isn’t just to “trust in you,” but to become one with God in being trustworthy.

There are several stumbling blocks we need to overcome, of course. The first one is this idea of being entirely self reliant. It is the toddler who struggles and cries, “Me do it my-self!” We encourage them in their struggle, but it is our encouragement that becomes their strength, isn’t it. They don’t ultimately do it themselves. We pray for God to not so much to “resist the proud who confide in their own strength” but to help us hear God cheering us on as we press on.

The second stumbling block is the idea that we can do nothing. The perpetual victim. The damnable worm. The no good low down snake in the grass. While we may have our moments of being less than reflections of God’s love, the fact is we ARE reflections of God’s love, and so we ask God to complete in us what we cannot complete in ourselves. As Saint Augustine put it, “Without God, we cannot. Without us, God will not. We pray God, therefore, to stand by us as we acknowledge God’s mercy, grace and love.

Why? Because to do otherwise would be to confound God’s purpose and confide in our own strength, and reject the grace God has poured out on us, and continues to pour out upon us and the whole human race.

Let's make an effort to be faithful by placing our hands in the hands of the Faithful One ... and breathe. Amen