The Righteous

Gospel Reflection Matthew 21:23-32

In the Episcopal Church, we follow the lectionary texts over a three year cycle. The texts follow the liturgical year — every November things get a little dark as we prepare for Advent. During Lent, we can feel the texts ramping up as we get closer to Holy Week and the yearly re-enactment of the death and resurrection of Jesus. This year, we’re in Year A, and that means the gospel according to St. Matthew, and this time through, I feel like I’m reading Matthew for the first time, 

All summer long, and it feels like it’s been all Matthew long, these stories have been falling funny on my ears. Since Pentecost, I’ve been challenged by Matthew’s way of telling the story of Jesus. Since Pentecost, I’ve found myself surprised and stretched. I’m finding again that my previous assumptions are wrong or misplaced, and that the story is more strange than I thought it was. 

And this, y’all. This is why we read these texts again and again. This is why we repeat these texts every few years, because they are alive and they change us. These words of Jesus today, this reminder again that the first shall be last and the last shall be first, that our assumptions about who is righteous and not righteous are not good, about what saying “no” means, about questions that are a catch-22, these texts are still catching us unprepared, 2000 years after they were written. 

What would it mean if we just let these words season us a little, rescuing us from our usual assumptions? 

Whose authority? Why do you get to preach over others? Why are you saying the things you say? Who is your teacher? The religious officials are not pleased with Jesus. According to them, he should settle down, get his disciples and followers to stop the shenanigans. But it’s already gone too far and there’s no turning back. 

We’re in the last week of Jesus’ life. He’s already ridden the donkey into the city Jerusalem while the people asked him to save them. He cleared out the temple of moneychangers. The balance is completely off and everything is wonky.

Yesterday, I watched a few hours of football with Asher and the political ads! The election is coming, just a few weeks off, and you can tell it. Big dramatic language. Big scary concepts. dredging up fear, trying to weigh in on the election, but not with logic, but with cunning and with emotion. They’re trying to sell me candidates like they sell trucks, with smoke, mirrors, and passion.

Logic hasn’t helped Jesus’ opponents see who he is. It has only made them angrier. And so Jesus takes advantage. He plays their game, and pushes back, this time in front of all those who were finding him compelling. 

He responds to their question with another question that has no good answer. Jesus is tricky tricky. You’ve been around boys before? The ones I knew were always talking smack and then giggling. If hanging out with 12 of your best friends for three years doesn’t make you quick on your feet, good at talking smack, and just plain silly, I don’t know what would. 

His opponents don’t want to answer the question. Catch-22. Your fate is sealed no matter how you answer it. 

So they pivot and Jesus tells them a parable.  

In this parable, the one who is righteous says “no.” 

In this parable, the one who isn’t righteous says “yes.”

When I was eight, my mother got a call from our pastor. Would Molly be willing to play a part in a sermon illustration? You know I was eager! All I had to do was bring my favorite toy to church. I brought my Mandy doll, blonde like me, my very favorite toy. I was the one the who said “no” and then did the “yes” with my body. I helped with chores. There was one problem with this parable though. At the time, I would have never, never in the history of nevers, said “no” to my dad. There was one result if I did, if you know what I mean. 

The one who is righteous says no. 

The one who is righteous changes their mind. 

And then the final coup. 

The ones who cooperate with the enemy and the ones who get paid for sex work, they’re the righteous ones. They’re the ones who see the good gifts, hear the good word and participate. 

The one who is righteous says no. 

I’ve been making my way through the new book by Calvin professor Live, Laugh, Love by Kristin Kobes Du Mez, her new book that tells the story about the rise of the Christian Nationalism through the stories of women. Du Mez tells about consumer culture — Tupperware, Hallmark movies, Multilevel marketing companies like LuLuRoe and Amway, and other thinking — drew together women from different traditions into systems that made women susceptible to manipulation. The stories are heartbreaking. Christian organizations, DuMez tells us, were often marked by blind obedience; if you weren’t “loyal” you were out. Saying anything other than “yes” was contrary to God and God’s law. 

But in this story, the one who is righteous says no. 

In this story, the one who is righteous changes their mind. 

How could we not? How could we not change our minds when we realize we’ve been wrong? People evolve. I evolve. I continue to evolve. Sometimes I feel shame when I think about where I used to be, what I used to think, all of the places where I was rigid and unbending, but then I remember. People change. I change. This is the story of the gospel, the story of our Christianity faith tradition where transformation, change, and even amendment of lives is front and center. If we’re wrong, we don’t have to be set into that path forever. We can choose differently. We are a people of free will, who serve a God who can get behind us when we are reaching for freedom. God helps us, y’all, especially if we ask, and even if we don’t.  

The one who is righteous changes their mind. 

And finally, the ones who cooperate with the enemy and the ones who get paid for sex work, they’re the righteous ones. They’re the ones who see the good gifts, hear the good word and participate. 

It’s easier for those who are oppressed to hear the good news of Jesus. If you know, you know. If you know oppression, if you know what it’s like to be sick, to be mentally ill, to be tired, to be stressed, to be depressed, Jesus’ message speaks even louder. It’s not that strange that tax collectors and sinners know this story even better than I do. And then there’s that other part, that part of the land of light and life, where God will be all in all. As Christians, we imagine this as a place where all are welcome, where we seek the dignity of every human being, where we can love our neighbors as ourselves, where all nations, tribes, families, all people can find a place. Christian activist Fanny Lou Hamer talked about this place as being a long table, filled with food, the table groaning even, under the weight of the feast. Everyone is welcome, the tax collectors, sinners, those who cooperate with the enemy, those who get paid for sex work, everyone. “Of course some people,” Fanny Lou said, “some people have got to learn their manners first.” 

Jesus knew. Jesus could see both forward and backward. These are the ones. We knew them and know them, the ones in the Memorial Garden, the ones we’ve buried. We are the ones, the ones who find their home in the land of light and life, the kin-dom of God. We are the ones, fed by God at the table with God’s food, that strengthens us, that enables us to do God’s beautiful work in this here and now. God gives us the vision to say ‘no’ when it’s right, to change our minds when we’re wrong, and to glimpse every now and again, the beautiful kin-dom of God unfolding among us. 

The Muskegon Correctional Facility has converted 25,000 square feet of their lawn to a garden space. There, they teach horticultural skills so that these students can gain employment in the field when they return to the community. The students learn first in a classroom setting and then get hands on with vegetables and plants, in a program that’s donated more than 35K pounds of food to food pantries, residential care facilities, churches, and community organizations. It’s a both ways gift, for those who need the food and for those who grow it. For those who grow it though, it’s an opportunity for something different, a way, a vision that goes forward in hope. They knew the other way; it makes it easier to choose digging in the dirt. 

The way of peace is right here, within our reach, right at our feet. Do not be afraid.