Church People Beware!
Sermon
Church People Beware!
I don't know about you, but I don't think much of the choices Jesus offers in this passage. Think about it with me for a moment. Two sons. The father tells each one to go and do a little work in the vineyard. It's not much to ask, like mowing the lawn every once in a while. Parents don't ask their children to do that many chores around the house. Besides, it's the least they can do to earn their keep. So, says Jesus, this particular father asks his two boys to help out a little around the vineyard. But get this: one of them says "No," and then does it; the other one says "Yes, Dad, I'll be glad to," and then doesn't.
Kids… What are you going to do with them? Once you think you have them figured out, they either surprise you or they let you down. And part of the problem is that they're so hard to talk to. They seem to speak a different language which may be something of a cross between "rap" and a low mumble or they don't talk at all.
A father once tried to talk to his son about how college was going:
The father said, "How are things going?"
The son said, "Good."
The father said, "And the dormitory?"
He said, "Good."
The father said, "How are your studies going?"
He said, "Good."
The father said, "Have you decided on a major yet?"
He said, "Yes."
"Well, what is it?" asked the father.
The son said, "Communication."
So it goes as parents and children try to talk to each other. So it was for the two sons in Jesus' story. Personally, I don't think much of either son. Neither one did what he said he was going to do. But this isn't an Ann Landers or Erma Bombeck passage about the trials and tribulations of rearing children. It's really about the Pharisees and the Pharisee types who talk the talk but don't walk the walk.
Here goes Jesus again. You ever notice how Jesus seemed to enjoy picking on the Pharisees which wasn't really fair since they were the good people in their day. They were the ones with power and knowledge, the ones who were "upright, righteous, and right with God." They knew the law and actually kept it. It's not that they were completely sinless. Even they knew that everyone is tainted with Eden's damage. But they kept the laws of God as closely as was humanly possible. Not only that, they actually came to church every week. They read their Bible and even went to Bible studies. And, of course, they tithed and actually kept their pledges paid up, which made them real popular around the synagogue, especially with the rabbis.
So what was the problem? Why do you suppose Jesus picked on them? Maybe it was because they deserved it. In reality they were a pretty self-righteous bunch, holding everyone to the grindstone of every little jot and tittle of the law. Not only that, when you scratched the surface of their piety, you found that there wasn't much real commitment underneath. They were much more concerned with their own salvation and determining who was saved and who wasn't than they were with helping those who were really lost come into the presence of God. When was the last time you were concerned with that: helping someone who seemed to be lost to come into the presence of God?
The Pharisees weren't much interested in that. They were much more interested in themselves and their own ritual purity. They were big on promises about doing something for those in need, but not much on follow-through; big on saying, but not much on doing. It's like the black preacher who gave the sermon on the Good Samaritan and told about the priest who, traveling the same route as the man who had been beaten, had "passed by on the other side" and then the black preacher, "with moving eloquence, described how competent and comfortable the priest was in the Jerusalem temple. He could handle it all with practiced ease: the altar and the sacrifices, the vestments and the incense, the wood and the ashes -- everything that had to do with the temple. No trouble there, no sweat. What he could not handle was the event on the Jericho road (Walter Burghardt, Grace on Crutches, New York, Paulist Press, 1986, p. 132)."
Here is a problem that catches most of us, especially preachers. We're great when we're hanging around the church on Sundays: prayers, hymns, sermons, Sunday school lessons, all the different jobs we do; but where we have trouble is in handling the events on the Jericho road. Where we have trouble is making something of our Christian lives where we live and work and play. Where we have trouble is in our relationships with our spouses and former spouses and our parents and our children and friends and fellow workers and even those in need whom we both fear and despise. We take vows as church leaders and members and promise all kinds of wonderful things and then go out and kick people in the teeth in the ways we treat them. That's happening in every congregation.
Don't you find a little bit of contradiction in that? God does. Jesus does. And he sees right through us, right through our little facades; and with this parable he says, "Church people beware!" James picked up the same theme later and played it out as far as it would go. You know the passages, "Faith without works is dead," and all that. But try as he wants, James could never go as far or state it as poignantly as Jesus did.
In fact, the more I read this passage the more nervous I get. I said to someone last week, "The first question I want to ask when I get to wherever I'm going after I die is, ‘Why do the good ones suffer so much here on earth?' " We all have questions we want to ask. That's the one I want to ask. But then someone observed, "That's presuming you go to the right place." And I said, "Yeh, well, that's right… That's right!"
Imagine Jesus walking into your church on a Sunday morning (any Sunday will do), interrupting the service, standing right down front and saying, "The IRS types who have been overtaxing you and the harlots in the red light district who have cleaned up their acts and sincerely changed their ways but don't come to church every week have a better shot at heaven than you do." Well, Jesus never was very big on Dale Carnegie anyway. No wonder they were measuring him for a cross soon after he came to town.
Imagine him going on. Still standing down front since no one had moved and the ushers at the back didn't know what to do, kept staring up front for a signal from the preacher who by now looked a little pale; imagine Jesus going on with something like this: "Mahatma Gandhi had a better shot at heaven than most Americans who go to church every week because he really lived what I was trying to teach. And those who pour bowls of stew have a better shot at heaven than you who are so concerned to get the liturgy exactly right or are bickering over which hymns we're going to sing as if that makes any difference to God at all!"
Typical church people ought to be pretty nervous about this passage. I am. Preachers and teachers especially ought to be nervous. Neither teacher training nor a seminary degree is an automatic ticket to heaven. No one should arrogantly assume salvation. No one. What Jesus is saying is that those who don't profess faith but live it as if they have, have a better shot at salvation than those who profess but don't act. Athenagoras, a Christian philosopher in Athens, once said it this way: "Among us are uneducated folks, artisans, and old women who are utterly unable to describe the value of our doctrines in word, but who attest them by their deeds (Bruce L. Shelly, Church History in Plain Language, Dallas, Word Publishing, 1982, p. 88)."
If we were to stop here with all this talk about the difference between saying and doing, and we were in a typical homiletics class, the critique would be that what we have said so far could not be classified as a sermon but a good pep talk that could be used anywhere. Now I realize it's not exactly the kind of rah-rah cheerleading message that you would hear at the local Rotary Club or Girl Scout meeting. Jesus was never really a saccharine motivational speaker. That just wasn't his style. But if we took his message the way some in our day try to do and failed to see it in its proper Christological context, all we would get would be this: "Follow through on your promises," which is not a bad message in itself, especially for church folk whether in pulpit or pew; it's pretty straightforward. The only trouble is it's not really a sermon.
The main problem here is that the contrast in this passage is not just between saying and doing. The contrast is between accepting or rejecting Christ. The Pharisees never did. And sadly, many church people never do either. Oh they come, some even regularly. But they never really accept what it means to be "in Christ." And what does it mean? It means getting to know the mind of Christ, his harsh judgment and his great mercy. It means experiencing the grace of Christ by truly repenting and being sorry for our sins, especially as we come to the Lord's table. Finally, it means living the life of Christ every day by thinking of others, especially those in need, before we think of ourselves.
What about you? Which have you done in your life? Accepted Christ or rejected him not just in your words but in the way you live your life and the way you treat those around you? Have you really accepted the Christ who challenges you and comforts you all at the same time?
Every once in a while you meet someone who was at a table like this one. Cleo McClure did, an elderly woman in our church who died a while back. She was quiet, unassuming, humble, and generous to a fault. She hadn't been able to come to church for years but she believed it and she lived it like the saints. Not long ago I saw her for the last time. We shared communion around a table like the one in every church. She was moved to tears as we said the 23rd Psalm, words that came out from deep inside her as she recited them with me. Here was one who not only knew the psalm, but knew the shepherd. Why was she in tears? Was it because she knew she was about to meet her maker? I don't know. But I do know this. She came to the table of the Lord for her last time in penitence and hope. She came to the table accepting the sustenance of Christ, which is what we should do every time we partake of the sacrament.
Don't come to the Lord's table unless you mean it, for the Lord's table is set with an invitation and a warning. The invitation is only to those who are truly sorry for their sins. The warning is to those who casually assume that they have the salvation of God and they think they know who doesn't. So the warning is not so much "Sinners beware" as it is "Church people beware! Don't come to the table of the Lord unless you mean it."
Kids… What are you going to do with them? Once you think you have them figured out, they either surprise you or they let you down. And part of the problem is that they're so hard to talk to. They seem to speak a different language which may be something of a cross between "rap" and a low mumble or they don't talk at all.
A father once tried to talk to his son about how college was going:
The father said, "How are things going?"
The son said, "Good."
The father said, "And the dormitory?"
He said, "Good."
The father said, "How are your studies going?"
He said, "Good."
The father said, "Have you decided on a major yet?"
He said, "Yes."
"Well, what is it?" asked the father.
The son said, "Communication."
So it goes as parents and children try to talk to each other. So it was for the two sons in Jesus' story. Personally, I don't think much of either son. Neither one did what he said he was going to do. But this isn't an Ann Landers or Erma Bombeck passage about the trials and tribulations of rearing children. It's really about the Pharisees and the Pharisee types who talk the talk but don't walk the walk.
Here goes Jesus again. You ever notice how Jesus seemed to enjoy picking on the Pharisees which wasn't really fair since they were the good people in their day. They were the ones with power and knowledge, the ones who were "upright, righteous, and right with God." They knew the law and actually kept it. It's not that they were completely sinless. Even they knew that everyone is tainted with Eden's damage. But they kept the laws of God as closely as was humanly possible. Not only that, they actually came to church every week. They read their Bible and even went to Bible studies. And, of course, they tithed and actually kept their pledges paid up, which made them real popular around the synagogue, especially with the rabbis.
So what was the problem? Why do you suppose Jesus picked on them? Maybe it was because they deserved it. In reality they were a pretty self-righteous bunch, holding everyone to the grindstone of every little jot and tittle of the law. Not only that, when you scratched the surface of their piety, you found that there wasn't much real commitment underneath. They were much more concerned with their own salvation and determining who was saved and who wasn't than they were with helping those who were really lost come into the presence of God. When was the last time you were concerned with that: helping someone who seemed to be lost to come into the presence of God?
The Pharisees weren't much interested in that. They were much more interested in themselves and their own ritual purity. They were big on promises about doing something for those in need, but not much on follow-through; big on saying, but not much on doing. It's like the black preacher who gave the sermon on the Good Samaritan and told about the priest who, traveling the same route as the man who had been beaten, had "passed by on the other side" and then the black preacher, "with moving eloquence, described how competent and comfortable the priest was in the Jerusalem temple. He could handle it all with practiced ease: the altar and the sacrifices, the vestments and the incense, the wood and the ashes -- everything that had to do with the temple. No trouble there, no sweat. What he could not handle was the event on the Jericho road (Walter Burghardt, Grace on Crutches, New York, Paulist Press, 1986, p. 132)."
Here is a problem that catches most of us, especially preachers. We're great when we're hanging around the church on Sundays: prayers, hymns, sermons, Sunday school lessons, all the different jobs we do; but where we have trouble is in handling the events on the Jericho road. Where we have trouble is making something of our Christian lives where we live and work and play. Where we have trouble is in our relationships with our spouses and former spouses and our parents and our children and friends and fellow workers and even those in need whom we both fear and despise. We take vows as church leaders and members and promise all kinds of wonderful things and then go out and kick people in the teeth in the ways we treat them. That's happening in every congregation.
Don't you find a little bit of contradiction in that? God does. Jesus does. And he sees right through us, right through our little facades; and with this parable he says, "Church people beware!" James picked up the same theme later and played it out as far as it would go. You know the passages, "Faith without works is dead," and all that. But try as he wants, James could never go as far or state it as poignantly as Jesus did.
In fact, the more I read this passage the more nervous I get. I said to someone last week, "The first question I want to ask when I get to wherever I'm going after I die is, ‘Why do the good ones suffer so much here on earth?' " We all have questions we want to ask. That's the one I want to ask. But then someone observed, "That's presuming you go to the right place." And I said, "Yeh, well, that's right… That's right!"
Imagine Jesus walking into your church on a Sunday morning (any Sunday will do), interrupting the service, standing right down front and saying, "The IRS types who have been overtaxing you and the harlots in the red light district who have cleaned up their acts and sincerely changed their ways but don't come to church every week have a better shot at heaven than you do." Well, Jesus never was very big on Dale Carnegie anyway. No wonder they were measuring him for a cross soon after he came to town.
Imagine him going on. Still standing down front since no one had moved and the ushers at the back didn't know what to do, kept staring up front for a signal from the preacher who by now looked a little pale; imagine Jesus going on with something like this: "Mahatma Gandhi had a better shot at heaven than most Americans who go to church every week because he really lived what I was trying to teach. And those who pour bowls of stew have a better shot at heaven than you who are so concerned to get the liturgy exactly right or are bickering over which hymns we're going to sing as if that makes any difference to God at all!"
Typical church people ought to be pretty nervous about this passage. I am. Preachers and teachers especially ought to be nervous. Neither teacher training nor a seminary degree is an automatic ticket to heaven. No one should arrogantly assume salvation. No one. What Jesus is saying is that those who don't profess faith but live it as if they have, have a better shot at salvation than those who profess but don't act. Athenagoras, a Christian philosopher in Athens, once said it this way: "Among us are uneducated folks, artisans, and old women who are utterly unable to describe the value of our doctrines in word, but who attest them by their deeds (Bruce L. Shelly, Church History in Plain Language, Dallas, Word Publishing, 1982, p. 88)."
If we were to stop here with all this talk about the difference between saying and doing, and we were in a typical homiletics class, the critique would be that what we have said so far could not be classified as a sermon but a good pep talk that could be used anywhere. Now I realize it's not exactly the kind of rah-rah cheerleading message that you would hear at the local Rotary Club or Girl Scout meeting. Jesus was never really a saccharine motivational speaker. That just wasn't his style. But if we took his message the way some in our day try to do and failed to see it in its proper Christological context, all we would get would be this: "Follow through on your promises," which is not a bad message in itself, especially for church folk whether in pulpit or pew; it's pretty straightforward. The only trouble is it's not really a sermon.
The main problem here is that the contrast in this passage is not just between saying and doing. The contrast is between accepting or rejecting Christ. The Pharisees never did. And sadly, many church people never do either. Oh they come, some even regularly. But they never really accept what it means to be "in Christ." And what does it mean? It means getting to know the mind of Christ, his harsh judgment and his great mercy. It means experiencing the grace of Christ by truly repenting and being sorry for our sins, especially as we come to the Lord's table. Finally, it means living the life of Christ every day by thinking of others, especially those in need, before we think of ourselves.
What about you? Which have you done in your life? Accepted Christ or rejected him not just in your words but in the way you live your life and the way you treat those around you? Have you really accepted the Christ who challenges you and comforts you all at the same time?
Every once in a while you meet someone who was at a table like this one. Cleo McClure did, an elderly woman in our church who died a while back. She was quiet, unassuming, humble, and generous to a fault. She hadn't been able to come to church for years but she believed it and she lived it like the saints. Not long ago I saw her for the last time. We shared communion around a table like the one in every church. She was moved to tears as we said the 23rd Psalm, words that came out from deep inside her as she recited them with me. Here was one who not only knew the psalm, but knew the shepherd. Why was she in tears? Was it because she knew she was about to meet her maker? I don't know. But I do know this. She came to the table of the Lord for her last time in penitence and hope. She came to the table accepting the sustenance of Christ, which is what we should do every time we partake of the sacrament.
Don't come to the Lord's table unless you mean it, for the Lord's table is set with an invitation and a warning. The invitation is only to those who are truly sorry for their sins. The warning is to those who casually assume that they have the salvation of God and they think they know who doesn't. So the warning is not so much "Sinners beware" as it is "Church people beware! Don't come to the table of the Lord unless you mean it."
