When he 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.
Matthew 21:23-32
“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[a] 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.
My sermon from the 18th Sunday after Pentecost (September 27, 2026) on Matthew 21:23-32.
One of the things I enjoy is not being the smartest person in the room. There are a million things I don’t know and learning is a holy gift that never gets old. One of the ways this showed up to me this week was when I gathered with a few local Lutheran pastors to discuss what we were preaching on this weekend. Due to people’s schedules and how a number of nearby Lutheran churches do not have a called pastor, only six of us could actually meet. Yet one of my colleagues also happens to be my former seminary professor. Dr. Wengert retired from teaching a few years ago but he was recently asked by the bishop to serve as an interim pastor in Pompton Plains. He is helping that community reflect on where they’ve been while laying the groundwork for whatever comes next. Dr. Wengert taught for decades at the Lutheran Theological Seminary in Philadelphia and co-edited the most recent translation of the Book of Concord which is a collection of documents describing the Lutheran expression of the Christian faith. He is a noted scholar on Martin Luther and he will be traveling to the Vatican this week to be part of an international theological dialogue with the Roman Catholic Church. Even though we are faithful neighbors, he’ll always be Dr. Wengert to me. And while sitting next to him during this week’s study, I noticed the Bible he was using was different from my own. The copy I was using is very similar to what we just heard but with a handful of notes I’ve written the margin. Dr. Wengert’s book was, like mine, covered in notes written in pencil. His edition, however, wasn’t in English because he was reading, translating, and discussing the text in the dialect of ancient Greek that it was first written in. This was, I’ll admit, a little intimidating since even though I took ancient Greek in seminary, I cannot read or write it. But this also created an opportunity for me to learn as we, together, reflected on the story Jesus told. We can, and often do, see these words as primarily a theological metaphor about a father with two sons. But when we peel away the choices our English translators made while preparing a copy of the text we can read, we discover a more inclusive story that also includes you and me.
Now I’ve shared in the past how Koine Greek, unlike modern English, is a gendered language. Its words about people, things, actions, emotions, and the like have to be labeled as either “male” or “female.” And when Koine Greek wants to talk about a group of stuff containing what it considers to be words of different genders, the entire group has to be labeled as male. This quirk of language means a plural or pronoun that isn’t gendered male points to a group with no male words within it. Yet when a plural or pronoun is gendered as male, non-males could be hiding within it. This means when Jesus began his story by saying “a man had two sons,” the Greek word translated as “sons” is gendered so that is an acceptable translation. But according to Dr. Wengert, that isn’t the limit of what that word could be. A better – and possibly more authentic reading for this text – is to render “sons” as “children.” Now sons are children and children can be sons so this word play might not mean much for how we personally interpret this story. Jesus, though, tends to be very intentional with his words and letting them be as big as possible might reveal some of God’s vision for our lives and for our world. Jesus, as a storyteller, knows how important it is for listeners to engage with the stories he told. That’s why, I think, he’d only use the amount of words necessary to make it come alive in our hearts and souls. Jesus wanted us to recall what it’s like to be the parent whose kids said one thing and do another as well remembering what it is to be the kid who doesn’t always tell the truth. We bring to every one of his stories our own experiences, memories, and emotions. The parent and kids Jesus described weren’t meant to be abstract and generic. They can also be us. When we focus this story on a father with two sons, the questions we ask might swirl around the cultural dynamics that could influence their motivations and actions. But if we’re not a father or were never a son; or if our siblings were only sisters; or if we were raised by moms and the family we made our own doesn’t resemble the characters Jesus describe – we can choose to stay distant from his words. Yet if Jesus was talking about kids rather than only sons – the questions we ask the text, ask Jesus, and ask ourselves begin to change.
We might, instead of focusing on the motivations of these sons, pay attention to our own motivations instead. We remember every time our yes wasn’t the kind of yes it was meant to be. We name all the ways we look faithful but fail to live the life God calls us to. And we recall those seasons of life when we felt entirely on our own but showed others what faith actually looks like. If we tried to sum up our entire story, we might assume we’re more one kid than the other. Life, however, is pretty complicated and the more honest response is admitting how we are often both kinds of kids at the very same time. Our histories, stories, what we’ve done, and what has been done to us, shape us in ways we don’t always understand. But God knows when it comes to a life with faith, the entirety of who we are is seen by God. God speaks into every moment when we were the smartest person in the room and in every moment when we were not. And while we might try to pick and choose the person God sees, the love we show; the care we give; the generosity we offer; and the limits we place on compassion and mercy – God sees all. We, as we truly are, meet God in faith. And God, through faith, brings the entirety of God’s self to us too. When we focus on the kids, the father, the motivations, and who we are in Jesus’ story – we might miss something else that’s part of this story too. These characters don’t interact in a vacuum since they have a vineyard too. And in our Bible, a vineyard is more than a farm or field filled with grapes. Vineyards represent peace, comfort, joy, and abundance. It’s an extravagant and beautiful environment implying all our other needs are fulfilled. It’s a vineyard that not only belongs to the parent – but one the kids already have. Even though they lied to their dad, it wasn’t denied to them. Rather, its presence regardless of what they did. That might be why Jesus used this parable as a way to talk about his authority. It wasn’t the acts of healing, the casting out of demons, or even the words he shared that made him who he is. Rather, his authority was embodied in the ways he presents, shares, and brings forth the vineyard of God in our world. And you, in baptism and through faith, have already been brought into his holy vineyard too. It is not your history; your experiences; your words; or even your actions that brings God to you. God, through grace and out of love, chooses to be with you everyday. God knows the church can’t be what it’s supposed to be without you and God won’t let our choices be the limit of what God will always do. Compassion and mercy; forgiveness and humility; hope and how your worst days won’t be our only days – is what God’s authority truly looks like. We will often struggle embodying the fullness of what this looks like in our lives and in our world but since the vineyard of God is already with you, we get to show others how they are God’s children too.
Amen.