That Time the Teacher Got Dropped from Zoom - Matthew 21:23-32

It’s good to be with you this morning as we say our prayers together over the internet. Remember when that was new and weird, six whole months ago, and now it’s seems almost normal? I’m grateful for the technology that brings us together in these challenging times. This week was a little glitchy due to a Comcast shortage in downtown Little Rock, but overall I’m grateful for this way of staying connected. I’m even grateful for all the meetings that can be convened safely over Zoom. My children are now Zoom experts, too, as virtual learners in the Little Rock School District. I had an interesting report this week from my seventh grader, who, along with his classmates, was delighted when their teacher’s internet was too unstable and she had to drop out of a Zoom. My son suddenly realized that he was the default host of the meeting. The teacher had to ask him to let her back in. A chorus of middle school voices arose, joking, “Don’t do it!” But they soon remembered that the teacher would be grading them eventually, so he had to let her back into the meeting.

It was a momentary crisis of authority for seventh grade English. Resolved, of course, by acquiescing to the grading power of the teacher. But I think it would be wise for us to think about authority more generally this morning. For one thing, we seem to be surrounded by crises of authority. For another thing, Jesus and his detractors bring up the topic of authority in Matthew’s gospel today. When was the last time you thought about authority, and who holds authority over you? Sometimes authority is overt over you - say by a boss or the IRS or a bishop. Overt authority is often understood as the ability someone has to punish us, by garnering our wages or issuing a reprimand. Clergy have some experience with the authority question from the ordination process. We are reminded a few times along the way that we could get in trouble in several different ways. For example, I would be defrocked if I tried to convince all of you to secede from the Episcopal Church and take this beautiful building and the checking account with us. I could also get into trouble for lesser stunts, like spending the discretionary fund on trips to the spa or going rogue with the liturgy. In the church as well as secular society, usually authority is exercised when one becomes a problem that must be dealt with.

Sometimes, however, the question of authority is far more subtle. We assent to authority all the time, whether or not we are aware of it. Where do you get your news, for example? That’s an assent to the authority of a particular news source. Or, what do you think is the proper timeline for confirming a new Supreme Court justice? What do you think it will it take for us all to agree on the November election results, whatever they are? Not to mention the pandemic questions we face, like the safety of a vaccine or finding the right balance between safety measures and people’s economic survival. We are deeply divided on police reform and the right steps to take for racial justice in this country. And then, if you throw QAnon, foreign hackers, and plain old ignorance into the strange mix that is social media, you start to see that we are, in actuality, surrounded by a crisis of authority. Where is truth and who holds it these days? Given the problem, this is probably a very good time for us to step back and consider exactly who and what holds true authority in our lives.

Into this confusing mix we’re all living through, our Scriptures offer us a teaching this morning about authority. Here’s the scene. The authorities ask Jesus by what authority he has done some rather shocking things: like entering Jerusalem on a donkey in what approximated a royal procession with an adoring crowd, or feeding the five thousand, or even more upsetting to the authorities, chasing the money changers out of the Temple and disrupting a perfectly good stewardship season. Things have really been heating up between Jesus and the authorities, who, it should be noted, are the ones with the proper credentials and ordinations and resumes. Jesus has none of those. And yet, there is something about him that draws a crowd. There is something about him that exudes a kind of authority the others can’t even touch. It’s unsettling, to say the least.

Jesus launches into a parable about two brothers to defend himself and his true authority. It should come with a bit of warning for the good and the righteous, and church going folks like us - we don’t fare very well in this story. A man has two sons, whom Barbara Brown Taylor calls the Yes and No Brothers. He tells them to go work in the vineyard. The first says no and then goes anyway. The second says yes but doesn’t go. When Jesus asks which one has done the will of the father, the chief priests and elders have to answer that it’s the first one, the one who said no at first but then changed his mind and went to work in the vineyard after all. Jesus says in return, “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.”

It’s a rather confusing scene, but I think the take away is this. The fully credentialed authorities are threatened by Jesus, and try to trap him into admitting that he doesn’t have the authority to pull off the stunts he’s been doing. But Jesus never falls for a trap. Not only does he evade their delegitimizing question about authority, he teaches them - and us - a lesson about grace. Grace is the key to Jesus’ authority. If you think your system of ordinations and resumes and power is impressive, it does’t hold any weight at all in the kingdom of God. In fact, in the kingdom, it will be the very unrighteous who get in first. There is no divine meritocracy. The tax collectors and prostitutes are ahead of you because they can appreciate grace faster than anyone who thinks we earn some kind of points for being good and credentialed or in charge.

As followers of Jesus, we should give some serious and critical thought to the earthly entities we endow with authority, whether consciously or implicitly. We ought to consider first and foremost what authority Christ has in our lives - the authority of the one who was crucified and raised, the one through whom God fully embraced us in all our misguided notions. And we should be reminded that that such divine authority does not fall neatly into the current divides we are currently living in. Jesus, after all, never did get trapped into one side or the other. We also ought to be concerned whenever we feel self-righteous. Along with the chief priests and the elders, we might find ourselves further back in the line to get into the kingdom of God. We’ll still be in the line, but grace is offensive like that. It always has been.

So here’s to a new week of watching electoral politics, catching up on the news of a troubled world, wearing masks, and zooming through more meetings. In all of our endeavors during this strange time, let’s be mindful of the earthly authorities that demand our allegiance and make more room for the authority of Christ in our lives. This will go better sometimes than others. So let us also remember that no matter how well we honor the true authority of Christ, there will still be a place for us in the line of grace.