Gospel: Matthew 21:23-32
23When [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?” 24Jesus 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. 25Did 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?’ 26But if we say, ‘Of human origin,’ we are afraid of the crowd; for all regard John as a prophet.” 27So 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.
28“What do you think? A man had two sons; he went to the first and said, ‘Son, go and work in the vineyard today.’ 29He answered, ‘I will not’; but later he changed his mind and went. 30The father went to the second and said the same; and he answered, ‘I go, sir’; but he did not go. 31Which 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. 32For 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.”
A number of years ago, when I was in seminary, I had to go through a summer course of chaplaincy training – which in most cases involves serving as a chaplain or pastor in a hospital setting. Now, imagine being in your mid-20s and trying to come up with all the things you’ll need to know and to say as a pastor for all the different possible situations you could encounter in a hospital. Actually, it doesn’t matter what age you are – all of us were pretty nervous and insecure about it.
As a result, many of us spent the first 5 weeks of this 10-week program either avoiding any kind of medical or spiritual talk with the patients we were assigned to visit, or simply walking, reading a bible verse, praying and leaving as quickly as possible.
It’s a daunting task – being a chaplain. But it’s an important one.
But as you spend more and more time in the hospital setting, you start to get more and more comfortable, a little more adept at medical jargon and diagnoses, and you establish a presence and report – both with patients and staff.
I can remember one day, when one of my chaplain-in-training colleagues went to visit a family who had just endured a long surgery to remove the cancer recently diagnosed in their 16-year-old son. The family was relatively calm after the surgery, grateful they got through it, but they also seemed agitated and unsettled. They opened up to my colleague that the doctor had visited, said the surgery went well, but didn’t really say anything else. They didn’t know what was next or what to expect or what the plan was. They felt in the dark about what to do for their son.
The chaplain heard their concerns, lamented the fact that they didn’t know anything at the moment, and said a word of prayer in thanks for a successful surgery, and then left.
When it was time for us to process this interaction as a small group, our mentor and supervisor, Tim, asked the chaplain, “What was your sense of what this family needed in that moment?”
“Umm…” the chaplain hesitated, “I think just a reminder that God was with them and a prayer that they would know more information soon?”
“Okay…” Tim said. “Did you let the nurse know on your way out that the family was pretty unsettled and needed more information about what was happening next?”
“No,” the chaplain said.
“Did you have the doctor paged to the patient’s room so that they could answer some questions for the family?”
“No.”
“Why not?” Tim asked.
“I don’t know,” my friend said. “Because I’m just a chaplain-in-training. I can’t do that sort of thing – confront a doctor to tell a nurse how to do their job. What could I do in that situation?”
And then – in a moment I’ll never forget – Tim, with some clear frustration in his voice looked around the room at the 5 of us and said, with complete seriousness, “When are you all a chaplains going to finally claim your authority in this hospital?”
When are you going to finally claim your authority?
It was a question that kind of silenced us. We were young and new to all this. We didn’t realize we had any authority to claim.
Authority. It’s kind of a big word. I wonder what that word means to you. I wonder what weight or baggage it carries for you.
Have you ever had to claim your authority? Or perhaps wish you could muster up the courage to do so? Who has authority in your life? Or who looks to you as an authority figure?
Authority is one of those words that has a density and seriousness to it that it sort of stops us in our tracks and makes us ask – what is it? What is authority?
The Oxford Dictionary defines it as “the power or right to give orders, make decisions, and enforce obedience.”
The power to give orders and enforce obedience. Authority – that’s a big word. All of which I think makes it kind of an intimidating and scary word, if you ask me.
Who do we call when something fishy or illegal is happening? The authorities.
When there is severe or dangerous weather on the way, what does the the superintendent of schools have? The authority to cancel school for the district.
Who can walk through the no descript, metal locked door tucked away in the corner which leads to the locker rooms at US Bank Stadium? Authorized Personnel Only. The people given the authority to go back there.
Authority is an intimidating and somewhat confusing word. Especially when it’s about power and obedience. And the truth is – I think we have a pretty complicated relationship with authority right now.
We aren’t sure who has it and who should have it. Who should have power and who should we listen to? Who can we trust to tell us the truth? Who can we rely on to do the right thing? Many of the challenges and debates of our time are, at the heart of it, centered around the question of authority.
Who has the authority to say what a child learns in school – the parents or the government?
During COVID – which scientific voice of authority should we listen to as we all are going through this entirely new thing?
Donald Trump is bucking authority by not attending the presidential debates, which is sort of our societally agreed upon procedure and vetting process of how one gets into a seat of authority.
You can see the worries and wondering around authority all over the place. In fact, some have called this time we live in a crisis of authority. We don’t know who to trust.
And the interesting thing is – this crisis of authority isn’t all that new or unique to us.
In fact some would say we’ve been in living in a crisis of authority for a long time.
Back in the Middle Ages, there was no question who had authority. God and God’s representatives in the Church had the highest authority. But that didn’t always work – because humans being human, we got really good at using that Divine Authority to our advantage.
Then in the Reformation Era, authority shifted from God and the Church to the Bible. The Bible has ultimate authority – it’s God’s Word. It was fixed, unchanging, infallible. Nothing to debate about. We live by God’s word alone, many said. Follow God’s Word, let that be your authority, and all will be well.
But….then that started to fall apart. Thanks to the printing press, Bible’s got into the hands of a lot more people and it turns out that not everyone reads the Bible in the same way or thinks it says the same thing – leaving us with rivaling voices and unraveling authority.
Then came the Enlightenment – where science and technology and facts, market economies and the infinite pursuit of progress start to take hold and become the reigning voice of authority. But then – the ground beneath the Enlightenment’s feet starts to shake as well. Science (while amazing and good) can’t save us from everything, and probably shouldn’t, we’ve learned. Technology (while making many things better) seems to have also increased our capacity to hurt each other and live isolated lives. And market economies have a habit of bending toward the wealthy but crashing on the poor.
We still aren’t sure who or what to trust.
Which then, as one theologian has put it, has left us “standing before the open door of our future with no authority.”[1] And in our current day – that seems to leave only one option. One authority.
You.
You get to be your own authority, our culture says now. Culture says, “I decide what is true for myself, and what is right from my experience, feelings, and desires.” You are your own final authority or whomever you decide gets to be the voice of authority for your life. It could be your favorite politician, or late night tv host or celebrity or pop star. And each one of us is equipped with one of the most powerful phrases on earth….the phrase “Who says?”
“Who says I can’t live this way? Who says that perspective isn’t right? Who says this or that isn’t true?”[2]
And so in the end, we have no final authority between our desires and the good of others.[3]
And so we have a crisis of authority.
Which, if you may have noticed, is what’s happening in our gospel reading. A crisis of authority. It’s Holy Week – to use our liturgical language for it. Jesus has just ridden into Jerusalem on a donkey, with people waving palm branches and shouting “Hosanna in the highest!” But not only did Jesus ride into Jerusalem, but he entered the temple complex, that holy and sacred space where there were people selling animals for sacrifice and exchanging Roman money for Jewish money, and when he was there – Jesus tore the place apart. Flipping over tables yelling and screaming, driving out people, because as he put it, they were turning his house of prayer into a den of thieves.
Now, imagine that Jesus comes into your house, tears down all the wall paper, breaks the windows, flips over the furniture, and then has the nerve to show up the next morning for breakfast.
Well, that is where our story picks up. It’s the next morning and Jesus has re-entered the temple area – that place he had torn apart the day before. And the chief priests and elders confront him asking, “By what authority are you doing these things, and who gave you this authority?”
It’s helpful to understand that as far as the chief priest and elders and just about everyone else is concerned – they were the established authorities in the Temple in ancient society. What they are really saying is – “Who do you think you are? We are the authorities.”
It’s a crisis of authority right here in the gospel. Who is in charge? And who gets to say they are in charge?
Which – if you sit with it long enough – starts to turn the question on us – the reader. “Who is in charge? Who is in charge of my life? Is God in Christ Jesus our authority? If so…then why? And if not…then why not?” It’s a bit of a haunting question, especially when authority carries that heavy sense of power and obedience.
But Pastor Pam helped me to see this word and this gospel text slightly differently this past week. She simply pointed out the fact that there is a word within the word authority that’s been hiding in plain sight the whole time.
Hidden within the word authority is that word author. Author-ity. As in the one who tells the story. Maybe the question isn’t “Who is in charge? Who has the power? Who should we obey?” But maybe the crisis of authority centers around the question – who gets to tell the story? Who gets to tell the story of your life? And who tells a better story?
Now, in our 21st Century culture the answer is still the same – me. I get to tell the story of my life and no one else. No one gets to tell the story of my life except me, no one gets to tell me what to do or tell me who I am. I am my own authority; I am the author of my life.
On one level – that’s a really great thing. Some people’s story needs to be listened to and centered and honored rather than the stories they’ve been told about themselves.
And on the other hand, for many of us, the problem is that I just don’t think we are that good of story-tellers with our own lives.
Brene Brown – who is a researcher on shame and resilience – has sort introduce this phrase to the world that’s been really helpful for me and for other people I know. It’s the phrase “The story I’m telling myself is….”
She says we tell stories about ourselves…stories that aren’t true or that are partially true… all the time. Like the time she and her husband were on vacation swimming in a lake, and she makes this bid to connect with him and tell him what a great time she’s having and how much she loves him. And his response to these kind words? He totally ignores her. He just keeps swimming. And so she tries again. He ignores her again. Brene starts having all these awful feelings of rejection. The way she put it is, “The story I was telling myself is that my husband was looking at me in that lake and in that swimsuit, wondering, ‘God, where is the girl I married 25 years ago. It’s not this one who is old and who can barely swim anymore.’” That’s the story she was telling about herself.
When she finally just asked her husband, “What’s going on? You ignored me back there.” He said, “Oh. I couldn’t hear a thing you said to me while we were swimming. I was just counting strokes trying to fight off a panic attack and make it to the other side. I had a terrible dream last night that I wouldn’t be strong enough to make it across the lake and something would go wrong and I just couldn’t stop thinking about how I’m not as strong as I used to be.”
Do you see how they both started telling stories about themselves? For Brene – that her husband wasn’t attracted to her or interested in her anymore and that’s why he was ignoring her. Meanwhile – her husband is telling the story that he’s weak, not strong enough, and something really wrong could happen.
We do this all the time – we tell stories about ourselves all the time. And they’re not very good stories. Stories about how no one really cares what we think, stories about how we haven’t lived up to our potential, stories about how hopeless and awful we are at life because of that thing we did that time. They’re not very good stories and they’re not the whole story about who you are – especially when you ask the people around you and who care about you.
I just read the story this past week about an amazing person, who touched people’s lives, transformed them, encouraged them, told them how valuable they are, and showed them the unconditional and extravagant love of God. And yet, as it turned out, the story she told about herself was very different. She doubted that any of that was true for her and her life ended in tragedy.
I just don’t think we are that good of story-tellers with our own lives. I mean think about it – when you consider all the stories you get wrapped up in about yourself – who you are, what you have or haven’t done with your life, what others think about you – do you really want to be the authority of your own life, the author – the one who gets to tell the story?
I’m not so sure I do. I’d much rather let the God revealed in Jesus Christ by my authority and tell my story and yours. Even Jesus in the garden and on the cross let God have the final word about his story …and look what God can do with a story of death and despair. God can turn it into a story of resurrection and life. God is a much better authority – a better story-teller than we are.
The story we tell ourselves is…”I’m just a seminarian…who am I to visit the sick and dying?” but God’s story says…you have everything you need to bear God’s love and grace into the world.
The story we tell ourselves is that we are horrible for what we’ve done and God could never forgive us, but God’s story says, “I am slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love and I do forgive you.”
The story we tell ourselves is that we haven’t done enough with our lives and time is running out. But God’s story says where you see scarcity, I see abundance. You are a blessing to this world and you have brought more light and life than you can imagine.
The story we tell ourselves is that we are just too old and we don’t have any purpose here anymore. But God’s story says as long as there is breath in you, you are a worker in the kingdom of God and have the capacity and calling for love.
“By what authority do you do this?” they asked Jesus. He never answered them. But we know the answer. It’s by God’s authority. God is the author. Because God is a better storyteller than the rest of us. Amen
[1] Andrew Root, The Promise of Despair.
[2] Ibid.
[3] Sam Wells, “By What Authority?”, https://chapel-archives.oit.duke.edu/documents/sermons/Sept28BywhatAuthority.pdf
Untying the Cerebral Knot 