Tremble
Matthew 21:23-32

September 28, 2008


It was a traditional arrangement: the church I served was in the middle with ample grassy grounds surrounding with a wooded area lining the edge of the hill behind. To the right was an elementary school, and on the other side of the church to the left was the minister’s manse. Occasionally, students from the school would linger on their way home on the wide stretch of grass between the church and the manse.

But this one day several boys started throwing snowballs at the church windows for no good reason at all, so I went outside and put on my gruffest voice to tell them to cut it out and move on. “By what authority are you able to tell us what to do?” retorted what must have been a Grade Six who had watched too many police mysteries on TV. I was a little amused with the language, but remembering today’s famous dialogue between Jesus and the religious leaders of Jerusalem, I figured I couldn’t tell him that my authority was from heaven. But I could bluff. “I’m the minister of this church.” “Oh,” said the boy stopped in his tracks, and after pausing for an instance proved he did not understand about Protestants or their churches. “What do you do?” I tried explaining, but I knew it probably sounded like it was from Mars. “Oh, you are kind of like a boy nun!” (I am not making this up.) What could I say? “Well, I guess that is one way of putting it.” So much for my heavenly authority.

Jesus wasn’t the first or the last person to be asked this pointed question. You and I have asked the question of somebody in some situation where we thought someone was assuming too much power for the common good. The New Testament word used in the Gospels has two equivalent translations - authority and power. To have authority to do something means you have the power, yes, perhaps the muscle, to perform or prescribe a certain action. Jesus had no business to be doing all this stuff and challenging the respected order of Moses’ religion. By what authority, they asked the one who spoke with authority, unlike the scribes?

Jesus was better at the rabbinic game of religious debate than they were. By what authority did John the Baptist preach? He had pinned them down flat-footed, for they whispered in their huddle their dilemma. If we say John had heavenly, divine authority, why did we resist him and nod approvingly when he was executed. We’ll look like phonies. If, on the other hand, we say his authority was from the crowds of humanity he appealed to, those same crowds will show us what kind of brute power they have. So they decided it was best to simply look like fools and had to concede the argument. But they didn’t forget their humiliation. We know the rest of the story.

Jesus launched into a short parable that doesn’t fully fit the context, but which we dare not ignore. A man had two sons and he asked one to go out to work in the field, and the son refused, “I will not,” but later he thought better of it and did go and do the work. The father asked the second son to do the same, and he said, “Sure, I will,” but he never did. It’s a simple verdict, which one did the will of the father, and it had to be the reluctant one, who despite his defiant mouth was the only one who actually did what his father wanted. Actions speak louder than words.

Despite how familiar that old maxim is, we do not pay it much attention anymore. A person’s words are more likely to crucify him than the track record of his actions. The age of the sound bite, even in the middle of sermons, has helped to diminish our ability to comprehend the whole story before jumping usually to a negative conclusion on a few words out of context. It has deteriorated our ability to think critically.

Jesus’ parable, unfortunately, lacks the context of audible sound. The words are spare and concise, and so emotionally quite uncomplicated. We do not hear the sarcasm of the reluctant son saying No, nor do we hear the oily agreeableness of the other son saying Yes. The principle - actions speak louder than words - is simple and obvious, but then again, you and I often do not apprehend the obvious in the real world.

Most preachers labour in anonymity, nobody hears my sermons except you. But this past spring, there was unprecedented talk all over the media about preaching and preachers in the church. There was no luncheon or tea in my sabbatical Center without debate about what kind of preacher was Jeremiah Wright, the recently retired senior minister of Trinity United Church of Christ in south Chicago, the congregation not only of Barack Obama, but also - and I am talking about major social impact - of Oprah Winfrey. Did anyone here escape reading about or hearing some of the video clips: Jeremiah Wright standing in the pulpit saying, “God damn America!” For those few words and a few others excerpted from thirty-six years worth of sermons, he has been judged and vilified and denounced as unpatriotic, a hatemonger, and a racist. Maybe you agree. Preachers should never talk like that, even if you didn’t hear the whole sermon. One word matters more. No, I will not go into the vineyard.

But even taking his words at face value, out of context, we have to remember: actions speak louder.

Wright was vilified as being unpatriotic, a terrible sin in the U.S. as you know. Yet this son of a preacher heard John Kennedy’s famous words in 1961: “Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country,” and he did. Giving up his student deferment he joined the Marines and later the Navy, earning numerous distinctions and commendations.

Jeremiah Wright then went back to complete his college and seminary education and eventually to assume pastoral duties at Trinity United Church of Christ in Chicago, a church then of eighty-seven members. That same church now has over 8,000 members, largest in the United Church, and it has intentionally remained rooted in one of the poorest neighborhoods in Chicago. Its website lists fifty-nine different ministries of the church, including support for cancer survivors, career development, counseling ministries, dance ministries, ministry for victims of domestic violence, drug and alcohol recovery programs, grief ministry, girl scouts, work with individuals and families impacted by HIV/AIDS, support for married couples seeking to build and maintain Christian homes, tutoring programs in math and reading, a elementary school mentoring program, a prison ministry, and forty-six more ministries! Actions speak louder!

The congregation holds education in high esteem and has sixty members currently enrolled in seminaries, earning masters degrees and preparing for Christian ministry, while their tuition costs are fully paid by the church.

Does this sound like a church or a pastor that foments hate? This is a church and its pastor deeply invested in ministries of compassion and hope, deeply committed to transforming neighborhood and nation and world through the gospel of Jesus Christ. Actions speak louder than words!

Now, let’s make one thing perfectly clear: we are not talking about successful actions all the time. The media and our own expectations are all too often only interested in the success stories, but you can fail and your failures can speak louder than the best sounding words. When actions speak they tell with what authority you are acting. Actions demonstrate transparently what is really motivating you, what is pushing you to do what you had previously only been talking about. Actions say whether you are operating on the authority and power of human arrogance, or whether you are under the authority of God, and sometimes which god you are exercising power.

The Church is a remarkable place that operates under a different authority than the rest of society, though in our folly we often imitate the rest of the society. There are few other institutions that mingle the generations as we do. We gather to worship not ourselves and our accomplishments, but the God who continually recreates you and me, and that’s considered silly just about everywhere else. We listen for the Spirit to guide us in speaking truth to injustice. We accept and love those people the rest of our society despises and rejects in prejudice. We use our money, not for profit and not always in the way sound business would demand, but to bring a new real life to those who are oppressed and hurting. And many times, we spend our time together as the Church performing useless and random acts of compassion and love. This world would not survive without those useless actions that can never be properly put into words.

I hear a lot of people in this church and others angrily declare, “No, I will not go!” They use various tones of voice, often colourful adjectives and adverbs, and yet in God’s time, they go anyway, accomplishing God’s task with authority. Whenever I see that happening, I am amazed, and it causes me to tremble, tremble.

Preached by Robert Kitchen
Knox-Metropolitan United Church
Regina, Saskatchewan