By What Authority?

Proper 21A: Matthew 21:23-32

A Jewish man had some questions about God, but he was frustrated by the answers he received. He asked his rabbi, “Why do rabbis always answer questions with another question?” To which the rabbi replied, “Why shouldn’t a rabbi answer a question with another question?”

Jesus seems to possess the same sensibility—and sense of humor—as this rabbi did. For, when the Temple officials—the chief priests and elders—ask him a question in today’s Gospel, Jesus answers their question with a question of his own.

The question they ask concerns authority, specifically Jesus’ authority. At this point in the story, Jesus has just done some pretty outrageous things. When he entered the city of Jerusalem, he did so on the back of a donkey, as the Messiah was prophesied to do. Then he went to the Temple, and instead of paying homage, what he did was he drove out all the money changers, disrupting the financial transactions that made sacrifices possible. He did this, he said, because they had made God’s house into “a den of robbers.” He went on to heal some blind and lame people, which is troubling enough—doesn’t he know God wanted them that way?—but, when the crowds hailed him as the Son of David, another messianic image, he had the audacity to not stop them.

So, when Jesus comes back and starts teaching right there in the Temple, on their turf, the chief priests and elders had had enough. They couldn’t let this affront—this affront to the Temple and to God!—continue. They get in Jesus’ face and demand to know, “Just who do you think you are? Where do you get off doing these things? By what right? What authority?”

Jesus’ reply is, as I said, to ask them his own question: “You want to talk about authority? Ok let’s talk about authority. By what authority did John the Baptist baptize? Was it from heaven or from man? Was he acting according to divine or worldly authority?”

Before we get into their response, we should pause a moment and note how Jesus structures his question: Was it by worldly power or divine power that John baptized? Those are the only two possibilities, according to Jesus. Either authority comes from heaven or from humans, from God or from the world. There’s some wisdom there I think we need to attend to.

Worldly authority is the kind of authority most of us are used to dealing with. This is the authority someone has by virtue of the office or position they hold or the credentials they’ve earned. Think of the authority of a school principal or of a boss, a governor or a college professor, a police officer…or Temple official. Their authority is due to the position they have, their place in the institution. These are the “experts,” the decision-makers, the lawmakers, the ones whose rules and decrees we are expected to follow.

Because if we don’t, we know we’ll be punished, if not by “the authorities” then by everyone else who submits to them. We may get fired or arrested, written up or fail a class, canceled or shunned by our friends and neighbors.

Now, this is to say nothing about the legitimacy of their authority, how competent they are, or how reasonable their rules are. My point is only that this kind of power, worldly power, is based on coercion, by force or the threat of force, or at least social pressure. It’s an authority that compels others to do what those in authority want.

Divine authority, the authority that comes from heaven, by contrast, isn’t based on degrees or titles or offices. It doesn’t come from the person either, but from a reality that is beyond the person, from something greater than them that they represent, ultimately from God. This means that the person in authority is a person under authority. A bishop, judge, parent, teacher, or leader does not possess unlimited authority in themselves. Their authority is derivative, dependent. It depends on how faithfully they represent the Authority above them, how well they serve the good associated with their position, how grounded in the truth are their words and actions.

It’s like how we can recognize a good teacher, not by the education degree she earned or the awards she’s received, but by the minds she’s enlightened, the lives she’s changed. Or why we might respect a certain judge, not because of the robes he wears but because of his wisdom, his understanding and the soundness of his rulings. Or think of a priest. We have an authority by virtue of our ordination, our office. But our true authority comes from how well we live up to that calling, how truthfully we represent God.

And so those with this authority don’t need to prove their legitimacy; their authority is self-evident. Nor do they need to force people to get their way. Their authority is grounded in the truth, the truth of God, the truth about who God made us to be. So they rely on persuasion, on recognition, internal assent, and voluntary submission to what we know to be right and true. Because you don’t need to be coerced to acknowledge truth. A lie has to be coerced. But the authority of truth, we can recognize it, feel it, ourselves.

Now, as much as we might admire this kind of authority, it’s easy to consider it weak, because it cannot compel anyone to do anything. Those who possess the other kind of power, worldly power, often dismiss it. Like how Stalin responded to news that the Pope might be involved in peace negotiations, “The pope? How many [military] divisions does he have?” For Stalin, and others like him, the only authority that matters is the authority to impose itself on others, to force others to comply.  If you have enough people behind you or guns with you, then  what you say goes, period.

But divine authority is far from impotent. People may believe tanks and armies are powerful, but there’s nothing more powerful than the truth. For the person who tells the truth can change the world, for they can change what people believe is possible, desirable, or necessary. And this is more consequential, can lead to greater societal transformation, than sheer physical force.

Of course, truth can be covered up, suppressed…. even crucified. But it cannot ultimately be destroyed. The truth will out. Reality can only be denied for so long. It will always come back, sometimes with a vengeance. Think of the lie that underwrote the institution of slavery in this country or the lie of communism in the Soviet Union and elsewhere. It was maintained by force, often great violence, for a time, 77 years in the case of slavery in the US and 74 years in the case of the Soviet Union. But in the end, it couldn’t stand up to its inconsistencies and collapsed. Truth can only be covered up for so long.

Now, this may seem like I’ve gone far afield from the Gospel passage before us this morning. But in truth, this is all to show what is at issue, what is at stake in the question Jesus puts to the Temple officials. He’s not trying to be cheeky here, or to show how clever he is. Rather, in good rabbinical fashion, his response is intended to get at the heart of the Jewish leaders’ inquiry, to ferret out the question behind the question.

The Temple officials ask Jesus about his authority, and Jesus answers by asking them about John’s. By what authority did he teach and baptize? The answer should be simple. But the Temple officials can’t bring themselves to give it. They recognize the bind they’re in—"if we say the authority of God, then they will ask why then didn’t we follow him. But if we say from man, then the crowds, who believe John was a prophet, a man of God, will turn on us.” They’re darned if they do, and darned if they don’t. So they do the only safe thing. They shrug, “We don’t know.”

Their response is truer than they realize. Because it’s not just that they “don’t know” how to answer, on account of the political jeopardy. They “don’t know” because they can’t see that Jesus wasn’t just catching them in a political bind, exposing them to a loss of face; he was in his question in fact calling into question the grounds of their authority. You see, by suggesting the two kinds of authority that John the Baptist might have had, he was implicitly asking the Temple leaders which kind of authority they have—whether it is from heaven or from humans.

They were used to having authority by virtue of their office. They were leaders of the national religion, at the center of the religious life of their people. But in bringing up John’s ministry, Jesus appeals to a different vision, a different understanding of authority, an authority that is based on something more profound than their position, an authority that is aligned with something more authoritative than themselves or their office.

But the officials aren’t interested. They dismiss John’s ministry out of hand, because they suspect—they know—that if they allow that John was a man of God, that he acted with divine authority, then they would have to accept the truth of his teaching and submit, obey. Because, if you believe something is true, you are compelled to obey it, to act in accordance with that truth, with your convictions.

And they can’t bring themselves to do that. They can’t submit to an authority they could not control, that they couldn’t manage, couldn’t use to their benefit. It took them their whole life to get to where they are, the pinnacle of power, wealth and fame in their society, and they aren’t about to let it go because some country bumkin from a two-bit, no-name town like Nazareth comes speaking for God and acting like he’s the Chosen One. No sirree.

Jesus doesn't let them off yet, though. He gives them another chance. He tells this story, this parable, about two brothers. The father of the brothers asks them to do something for him, to go and work in the vineyard. The first one rebuffs his request, but later has a change of heart and does as he was told. The second says, “Yes, sure, Pops, happy to do it.” But then he leaves, to go hang out with some friends at the local watering hole. Which one did the will of his father? Simple question, and the Temple leaders actually answer it: The first one. The one who first refused but then did as he was asked.

With that, the officials don’t realize it but they just convicted themselves. The chief priest and elders are like the second son—they said the right things and made all appearance of obeying God’s will, but then didn’t follow through. They had all the privilege, were entrusted with the sacred responsibility of serving God’s Temple, but they couldn’t recognize it when God showed up, is standing right in front of them. They refuse to recognize his authority. So they undermine, delegitimize their own authority as spiritual leaders. They failed to represent the reality, the truth that their position as priests and elders is supposed to serve. They failed as spiritual leaders. And as a result, Jesus concludes, when it comes to getting into the kingdom, they’ll go to the back of the line, after the tax-collectors and sinners. What could be more insulting? Whores and traitors, ahead of us good people! The thought of it!

Still, that’s not the end of the story. There’s always a chance to change, to repent, to be the like the first son who rejected but ultimately did the father’s will. The Temple officials had rejected their Father in heaven by refusing to believe in Jesus, but they might yet repent and do the Father’s will after all. It’s up to them.

And that’s what this whole exchange between Jesus and the Temple leaders is ultimately about—not about authority but obedience, doing God’s will. It’s about which authority we recognize, yes, whether we care more about worldly authorities or the authority that comes from heaven. But even more than that, it’s about whether we obey God’s authority; whether we act according to our convictions, what we know is true; and whether we speak that truth, not only when everyone agrees, when it benefits us, but even when doing so carries a personal cost. For, when we follow God, when we commit to living and speaking the truth, we accept that it will cost us. But we know that not doing so will cost even more, not only our positions or reputations or livelihoods but even our very souls.

And so when we are asked by those who don’t believe, by what authority do we claim Jesus is the way to salvation?, by what authority do we think we know what is right?, or, simply, by what authority do we live our lives?, we can answer, “Oh, by the only authority that matters.” And when they ask, “And what authority is that?,” we can be glad, because now we are getting to the heart of the question. Thanks be to God!