Sept. 27, 2026 - Matthew 21:23-32 (longer reading) - Proper 21

Our Gospel reading today demonstrates yet again that Jesus is a master of verbal sparring. The Pharisees are often ones picking fights with him, but today it’s the priests and perhaps some Levites. John the Baptist had received a great deal of attention. He was kind of an oddball, but he had a big following and he spoke in a way that was a little unusual. His father was a priest, so it stood to reason that he would have a greater understanding of theology than the average Jew, but the things he said went beyond that. He didn’t speak of the messiah as some distant thing, as was usually the case. John knew him and even pointed him out to others. He spoke of the need for repentance, which wasn’t unheard of. But, the last time anyone really talked about repentance would have been the prophets before the exile or the exiles who returned. After that, the concept of repentance kind of falls by the wayside.

Ritual washing was something people had long understood, but usually that was done according to certain circumstances. Uncleanness that came from coming into contact with certain things, or lepers who have been cured, that sort of thing required washing. Washing as a response to sin wasn’t something that was done very often.

We distinguish John’s baptism from the one Christ later instituted because John’s baptism has no specific promise attached to, nor does God command us to do it. John’s baptism sounds a lot like what other church’s call a “believer’s baptism” today. It is an outward sign of repentance and faith. There’s nothing really wrong with that, especially since the baptism Christ will later give is not yet on the scene. It becomes a visual reminder that your sins are forgiven and washed away. We don’t go for that sort of thing these days because it would easily be confused with the sacrament, and it might suggest someone’s baptism wasn’t quite good enough to do the job.

Now the priests want to know who authorized Jesus to do what he does. Jesus forgives sins, heals people, and says all kinds of things about God that no one has really heard before. What gives Jesus the authority to do this? Throwing God’s name around isn’t something anyone should do lightly. Jesus is doing things that should be the exclusive province of God and he doesn’t seem to have any problem with this. The priests challenge Jesus to defend himself.

Jesus doesn’t take the bait. He answers their question with a question. Is John just a guy talking to other guys about sin and forgiveness, or is actually acting as God’s representative? It seems like a non sequitur. Why are we suddenly talking about John? But, Jesus is making a point. If you guys are such theological experts, you should be able to answer this basic question. If you think you can determine someone’s spiritual authority, then demonstrate that skill for us by talking us through John the Baptist. The priests know what they want to say, but they aren’t willing to stand by their convictions because they know they’ll, at best, lose respect with the crowds. At worst, they’ll have a riot on their hands. They aren’t interested in either of them. Looking stupid in front of the crowds is the best option from their perspective.

Unfortunately for them, Jesus isn’t done. He’s going to verbally slap them around a bit more. He gives them a brief story; a father with two sons. He tells one to go work. The son refuses at first but later goes. He tells the other son to go work. This one agrees, but never follows through. Which of them did the job? They confer for a bit and then answer that the first one did the job. He was the one who actually went out and did the work, even though he initially refused.

How would you answer the question? Which one would you pick and why? Jesus lists off tax collectors and prostitutes who find themselves in the kingdom of God ahead of the priests and those like them. Maybe Jesus was thinking of someone like Zaccheus, a tax collector whose life had been completely turned around after meeting Jesus. He wasn’t on the path of righteousness before that, but afterward, he gave every indication that he was a changed man.

As with any story, any parable Jesus tells, the goal is to teach us about God and, in this case, our relationship to God. In this story, God has two sons and gives them each a command. If you put yourself in the story, where do you end up? My guess is that you probably would put yourself in the place of the first son. After all, here you are in church. Here you are, doing at least some of the things God commanded to be done. That’s good, right? As Lutherans, we know we all start out as sinners, but then God enters into the picture and sets us on the path of righteousness. We aren’t like the Jews, who heard about God and had the prophecies of the messiah but then refused to worship him and still refuse.

We’re better than that. We’re better than all of them. Look at where we are! We’re here in church. We’re confessing our sins. We’re worshipping God. We’re doing our best to follow God’s commands. We pray for people. We support the work of God’s kingdom. We study the Bible. We tell others about Jesus. We do all of the things we’re supposed to do. We’re better than those who do nothing at all. We’re far better than those who say they’ll do something but then don’t. They’re a bunch of liars.

We look at the priests, the Pharisees, and those like them who are all supposed to know better but somehow manage to keep going down the wrong path. They should be doing much better, but they aren’t.

If you pay attention, you’ll see Jesus doesn’t answer them in the way they might expect. He doesn’t actually agree with their answer. You priests could have listened to John the Baptist, but you rejected him. You could accept my teaching now, but you aren’t doing that either. You don’t line up with either son. The tax collectors and prostitutes are listening now and doing what they’re supposed to now, but they didn’t start out that way. Jesus asks the question, “Which of the two did the will of his father?” Everyone hearing his story assumes there are two answers, but there’s a third answer, the correct answer: “None of the above.” The father’s will comes into play the moment the father tells his son to go out in the vineyard. Doing the work later doesn’t undo the fact that you initially refused.

Here we are, looking down on pagans, atheists, and all manner of other people, Christian and non-Christian alike. We look at where we are and judge ourselves based on where we’ve come from. But being faithful and obedient didn’t become a requirement halfway through life. There is no age of accountability. You are accountable from day 1 when your Father declared that you should have no other gods and you refused. If we were truly good, we’d have been hearing and obeying right from the start, but we didn’t, and so we are not good. We have not always done the will of our Father and can make no claim to perfect obedience.

This passage in the Gospel comes after a particularly important event in Christ’s life. Chapter 21 opens with Jesus riding into Jerusalem on a donkey. This week will be the last time the Gospels record him being publically seen in the city. He isn’t here by accident. He isn’t being caught up in political and religious plots as factions vie for power or the respect of the masses. There will be political and religious plots, but they aren’t going to take him by surprise. In fact, that’s why he’s here. The priests and Pharisees think they are being sneaky, but everything they do is by God’s design and direction. They are not changing the course of history. This is how history was always meant to go.

Jesus is here because he was told to go here. Jesus was told to go here because the Father sent him here to die. Jesus is here to die for the sins of the world. That is his mission and purpose and he never wavers from that mission. Despite what awaits him, Jesus is obedient to his Father the entire time. He never refuses or shirks his duty. Every moment since his birth has been with this in mind. Jesus doesn’t have to alter the definition of goodness or obedience in order to meet the requirements. He does both perfectly and has from the very beginning.

Jesus contrasts the faith of the prostitutes and tax collectors with the self righteousness of the priests. Both have failed at the task they were given. The difference is that the priests think they are good, while the rest realize they are not. Jesus doesn’t come to Jerusalem to save the righteous. He comes to make righteous those who know they are not. He comes to give forgiveness to those who know they are sinners. He comes to rescue from death those who know they deserve it.

Jesus is here today, entering into this place, not because we are good, but because aren’t. He comes in righteousness and perfect obedience, to make righteous those who are not. He is obedient despite the pain, despite the grief, despite the loneliness, and despite his looming death. He is obedient, not because he is a slave and is forced to obey, but because he chooses to, and because he knows the love of his Father is greater than all of these things he faces.

Now he brings that obedience to you. He carried your burden for you. Your Father looks at you as a perfectly obedient son or daughter, because that is who you are because of Jesus.

The temptation to think of ourselves as good because we do part of the job is just that, a temptation. The fact that we finally get around to doing at least some of the things we were told to do just highlights how wrong we were at the beginning. We also look at Jesus and see how much better we could be doing. We gather here at his invitation, not to receive the punishment we deserve, but the mercy we do not deserve. We come here knowing that we have no right to be called righteous, good, or obedient. The blood of the perfect Son covers you. It covers all of your sins, all of your failures, all of your rebelliousness. We come here because we are more like the priests than we’d often like to admit. We come here seeking mercy and we give thanks because the Son of God saw fit to listen to his Father and save us.