Scripture Matthew 21:28-32 NRSVUE
“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 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.
Meditation
This parable feels like a real-life scenario from my childhood. Not the contrast between siblings, each responding differently to their parent, but the very real reluctance of all kids to do their chores. In one famous instance, my mother and were folding laundry together when she saw someone approaching the house and getting ready to ring the doorbell. She turned to me and said, “Take care of this, I’ll go answer the door.” Did I fold the rest of the laundry? I did not. I grabbed a sheet, flung it in front of me to unfold it and open it up, and draped it over all the laundry, folded and unfolded. My mother walked into the room with our visitor, and saw a couch half-covered with a sheet, under which were obvious lumps and bumps of half-folded clothes.
This parable makes my heart hurt, just a little. Why would one child say, “I will not do what you have asked me to do,” and then, go and do it? What was going on in the relationship between father and son? Was the son angry with his father, for some reason? It’s easier to understand why one son would say, “I will do it,” and never get to it. Maybe he had ADHD and simply forgot. I would definitely be the second son, not out of defiance, or lack of love for my parent, but because of my approach to all chores, which is to start in one room, move something to a second room, then have my attention drawn by something in there that means I never accomplish what I fully intended to do.
Let’s look at the context here. This is the same chapter of Matthew’s gospel in which Jesus has entered Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover feast—the celebration we will remember on Palm Sunday. But Jesus comes to Jerusalem knowing full well that this week is likely to end with his death. He begins the week with acts of defiance. He cleanses the Temple, which is to say, chasing out those who are making money there by charging exorbitant prices. He curses a fig tree, an action associated with the prophets, and a declaration that God’s people are unfaithful. [1] Then he is asked who gave him the authority to do all these things, and he responds by besting the religious leaders by asking them a question which they refuse to answer.
And then, this parable. The first son, who says no, but turns it into a yes. And the second son, who says yes, but turns it into a no.
What do we make of it? What Jesus makes of it is that the son who said “no” feels that he is unworthy. He speaks of tax collectors and prostitutes, who were vilified in public life as being the worst of sinners (and, in truth, still are vilified) but he says, they will enter God’s realm of love, justice, and peace before the religious leaders. And he implicitly compares the second son to the religious leaders, those who speak a good game, but don’t put their money where their mouth is, so to speak. [2]
Last night as I arrived for a meeting, there was a family, mom and dad and little twin girls, no more than 3 or 4, zooming around the parking lot on tiny scooters. I said hi, asked if they were twins, and told their dad they were beautiful. He said, Are you the pastor? And I said, yes. He asked me my favorite Bible verse, which is tricky, because I really love a lot of Bible verses. I said the first thing that came into my head—Psalm 139, and I quoted the opening verse, Lord, you have searched me, and known me. I asked him his. He said, Ecclesiastes 9, and then he recited:
This is an evil in all that happens under the sun, that the same fate comes to everyone. Moreover, the hearts of humans are full of evil; madness is in their hearts while they live, and after that they go to the dead. ~ Ecclesiastes 9:3
I love that, he said, when he had finished reciting it. Then I invited him to come to church sometime, and while I was talking about Wednesday nights during Lent and Sunday mornings, he started laughing. He said, I know what time your service is, I live right there—and he pointed—but if I come into your church, it will burn down, because I am the devil.
I laughed too, and I said, I very much doubt that.
Here’s one way to think about what Jesus is saying in this parable: There are those who don’t feel worthy of coming into the fold of God’s love, justice and peace, and there are those who resist it because they think they know better. It’s the first group I’m worried about. Like that first son, who says no, but turns it into “yes,” they may decide to brave engagement—dropping into church, starting to pray, looking with curiosity at the Bible, talking to a church-going friend. But I fear that the vast majority of those who feel like they are somehow wrong—a devil, say—may never even try, because somehow, somewhere, they picked up the notion that they just can’t. That God wouldn’t even want them there. What is lost is the precious truth that every one of us is made in God’s image, and is cherished by God as a beloved child. What is lost is the precious hope that they can find connection, with people, and with God. What is lost is the bedrock of what makes the church a place of hope to begin with: Come to me, all you who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. So says Jesus. (Matthew 11:28).
What makes your heart hurt? What makes you think you are unworthy? What makes you forget that you are made in God’s image, and that you are, as a result, a beloved, cherished child of God? Maybe ponder these things and then remind yourself of that evergreen invitation:
Come to me, all you who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
Footnotes:
[1] Emerson Powery, “Commentary on Matthew 21:23-32, What actually happened at the temple when Jesus entered Jerusalem? Why was the Jerusalem leadership so disturbed by Jesus’ actions and words? Was this the turning point in Jesus’ overall mission?” Working Preacher, September 28, 2014. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-26/commentary-on-matthew-2123-32-5.
[2]Ibid.