Matthew 21:28-32
Yes and No brothers
21A Sept 27, 2020 St. Mark’s
This is the last week of Jesus’ life. He has either completely ignored his public relations staff, or more likely they have abandoned hope that he might be the least bit politically correct. According to Matthew, the week begins with Jesus riding into Jerusalem on a stolen donkey. Next he chases the merchants out of the temple. The following morning, he curses a fig tree for not bearing fruit. Today he returns to the scene of the crime, the same temple, to teach, and soon is cornered by the religious leaders who are livid. “Who does this nobody from the country think he is? Where do you get your authority?”
We should know by now how Jesus will answer. It is with a question and a story. He does not address the question of authority but instead looks into the hearts of the priests and elders to consider why they ask that question. Jesus knows that truth is not something people are told, but something they need to discover for themselves. So, he tells this story, hoping to bring them and us to a moment of clarity, a moment of awareness of the difference between what we think and believe/ and our actions.
Barbara Brown Taylor calls this the story of the Yes and No brothers. A father asks two sons to work in his vineyard. The first says, “No, this is not for me,” but later changes his mind and goes. The second one says, “Yes,” but never goes. “Which brother,” Jesus asks, “does the will of his father?” It is an easy answer. The first brother who actually goes. It is not what we say that matters, but what we finally do.
But the story is not what gets Jesus killed that week. The chief priests and elders become enraged when they hear this second part,/ when Jesus tells them which brothers they are. They are the Yes men who say all the right things, believe all the right things, stand for all the right things but never do the right things God asks them to do. They talk the talk,/ but do not walk the walk. They may think they were doing the right things, but they are so attached to their own ideas that it is hard to accept any change in how they live. Jesus tells them that people they despise are going into the kingdom ahead of them, not instead of them, but ahead of them.
Jesus is talking about hypocrisy, the major charge against religious people, that we say one thing and do another, loving each other on Sunday and ignoring each other on Monday because we are too busy living our own overwhelming life. This is usually not a conscious act. I do not know exactly how it starts. It is the human condition. We call it “good intentions.” Maybe we have such good imaginations that we believe we have done things we have only thought about doing. Consider everyday life, especially in this difficult time. Have you ever thought about calling or taking food to a neighbor, then decided on a card instead. Even that is still a gracious gesture, and you congratulate yourself on your thoughtfulness? I often even have a hard time later remembering whether I really sent the card./
In the past I looked out of my office window at home into the house of an elderly widower living alone. For years, I thought of all the kind things I would like to do for him, take him to lunch, get groceries for him, call him each day. Instead, I just rolled the ideas around in my head. I ended up only visiting him once when he went to the hospital before he died and then saying prayers the day of his death. Still, my husband and I will always treasure and will never forget even these two simple encounters with him.
It is so easy to get thoughts mixed up with actions. Right now, I know each of us is aware of at least ten people in this congregation and our life who are lonely during this pandemic who would be energized by just a phone call or even a card. If you do this, I can promise/ it will also change you. This will become the most joyful part of your day.
We all long also to care for creation. I remember the year I decided to simplify my life. I have a whole bookcase full of books about making my life simpler, taking care of the environment, returning to Walden Pond. At the end of the year, I only made one change in my life. I stopped using paper towels… and that only lasted for a year. It is a peculiar thing, this vacuum between our thoughts and our actions. We say we are going to work in the vineyard, but instead of harvesting the grapes we spend our time rearranging the stones along the path. When we fail to remember our ministry to each other, when we say love/ and do indifference, or say right/ and do wrong, or say “I will go,” and go nowhere,/ our heart hardens. As we stop reaching out to see the Christ in each other, we have more difficulty feeling and knowing the Christ within ourselves. There is no creed or a mission statement in the world that is worth more than one visit or call or card to a friend, or one cup of water held out to someone in need.
This is also infectious. Several weeks ago, I had a call from an old friend I had not spent quality time with for several years. When I heard she was calling, I thought, she is going to ask me to do something. It turned out, the call was all personal. She wanted me to know how much she treasured our relationship. We shared stories about our children and our grandchildren and how they were helping us make it through this pandemic. Even more powerful, her call empowered me to do the same to old friends I had not been able to meet or talk with. Caring is an action verb that can be more infectious than this virus.
If you have read Isak Dinesen’s wonderful book, Out of Africa,1 or seen the movie, you remember the story of a young Kikuyu boy named Kitau who comes to Dinesen’s home in Nairobi one day, asking for work. He becomes one of her most trusted servants, but after three months he asks for a letter of recommendation to Sheik Ali bin Salim, a Muslim in Mombasa. Dinesen offers to raise Kitau’s pay considerably, but he is resolute about leaving.
He finally explains he is trying to decide whether to become a Christian or a Muslim. The purpose of his living with her has been to see the ways and habits of Christians up close. Now he will live for three months with Sheik Ali to see how Muslims treat each other and then decide. Stunned,/ Dinesen says, “Good God, Kitau, you might have told me that when you came here.”
God does not tell us ahead of time, or more to the point, God keeps telling us all along.
Kierkegaard tells us Jesus wants followers, not admirers. Whether we say yes or no to him is apparently less important than what we do. The important thing is what our lives say, /and this is as easy to figure out as the story of the Yes and No brothers. Jesus asks us to look into the mirror. What is moving? Is it our mouths… or our hands and our feet?
Barbara Brown Taylor, “The Yes and No Brothers,” Home By Another Way, pp. 187-191.
Joanna Seibert. joannaseibert.com