Doing, Not Just Saying

"Doing, Not Just Saying"
Matthew 21:28-32

I used to be a fan of Dr. Phil.  Not hardly anymore.  But I remember a time when Dr. Phil was being interviewed.  During the interview, Dr. Phil was asked, “If you could interview anyone in the world, past or present, who would it be?”
Dr. Phil said in response to the question, “Jesus Christ.  I would really like to interview Jesus Christ.  I would like to have a conversation with him about the meaning of life.”

I sat there and thought, “Are you sure, Dr. Phil?  Are you sure you want to sit down across from Jesus and treat him like a guest on your show?  How long do you think it would take before you were the guest, and he were the interviewer?”

That’s kind of what happens with people who try to strike up a conversation with Jesus.  He turns things inside out.  He turns relationships upside down.  He makes people’s assumptions look silly.  Jesus has a way of confusing the lines of our questions.

I sat there and wondered what Dr. Phil would do if Jesus turned his world upside down, like he did to the rich, young ruler.  Remember that?  The rich, young man came to Jesus and asked him what he needed to do to get eternal life.  Jesus told that young gun to go sell everything he owned and give the money to the poor.  That’s a lot different, and asking a lot more, than Dr. Phil does (or his benefactor, Oprah used to do) by giving away all these gifts on a couple of shows each year.  It’s a lot different when you have to sell everything of your own rather than just giving away a bunch of products.

That’s what I sat there wondering.  I don’t think Dr. Phil wants to really interview Jesus.  I’d watch it.  Oh, yeah, I’d watch it.

See, that’s the thing.  You never know what Jesus is thinking while he’s talking to you.  Especially if you are a religious person.  Or think you are a religious person.  You have to watch out because the world is rarely the same when you get done talking with Jesus.  And if you think you know it all, like the religious leaders did who were talking with Jesus, and heard his parable about the two sons for the very first time--well, you have to be on your toes.  Because a new perspective is going to be aimed right between your assumptions.  If you think you are getting to just “interview” Jesus, what will happen is that Jesus will help you see the world differently, and call you to live in that new world differently.

The opposite may be going on inside Jesus’ mind as he’s speaking his parables.  He must constantly be asking himself, “Are these people getting it?  Do they understand what I’m offering them?  Are they toying with the challenge I’m presenting them?  Are they feeling the two-by-four I just smacked them up the side of the head with?”

If you’re trying to communicate something important, something you’ve been thinking about for some time, something personal, most of the while you are also trying to gauge the response from the other person.  How are they taking it?  Do they care about what you are saying?  Do they care about you?  Should you press harder or back off?  Mainly: Am I making connection?

Those of you who teach probably wonder if you are getting anything across to your students.  You have to have a way of evaluating how well you are getting your material across to the kids.  That’s what tests are.  They aren’t for students as much as they are for the teacher to see if she is communicating her material effectively.

Government leaders, especially lately, certainly must wonder if their plans (translate the word plans as “bickering”) to revive the economy and joblessness are making connection with voters.

Salespeople are always wondering if they are explaining the ins and outs of their particular product well enough to a potential buyer so as to make the product appealing.

Preachers are always wondering if their messages are having any effect on their congregation.  There was one young minister who moved to a new community and church.  He preached a fine sermon on his first Sunday.  The next Sunday he preached the same sermon.  And for five Sundays after that he did the same.  Finally, some elders gathered around him and said, “Pastor, that’s a fine sermon you preached your first Sunday here.  We hope you have more than that one sermon, because you keep repeating it.  When do we get to hear something new?”
“As soon as you act on what I said in my first sermon,” replied the young preacher.

That’s kind of what happens here.  The good old religious people came to Jesus with a question.  They always came at Jesus with questions.  Whenever you get to ask the questions, you hold the power.  You determine the course of the conversation with your questioning.  You are the one who demands the answer.  You, as the questioner, are on the offensive.  The person who answers is on the defensive.  That’s how questioners like to have things--like to have the control.

But Jesus, after telling the parable, becomes the questioner.  The questioners suddenly have the tables switched.  They become the ones who must answer.  They are  on the defensive.  They are probably wondering in their heads, How did this happen?

It happened with a parable.  A story about two sons.  They could be anyone’s sons.  They could have been your sons.  It could have been about a son and a daughter.  Or two daughters.  It doesn’t matter.  If you’re a parent, you’ve heard this story before.  You’ve lived it with your children.

You ask your son or daughter to do something.  Mow the lawn maybe.  “Yeah, sure,” they reply with their eyes glued to Facebook on the computer screen.  Or they have their smartphone in their hands catapulting angry birds at pigs in stick buildings.  “Yeah, OK,” they say again to your follow-up prodding.  But they don’t move.  An hour or two later they are still writing on the wall of their BFF on Facebook, or have just breached level five on Angry Birds.  And the grass is still shaggy.

So you go to one of your other children with the same request.  “No, way,” they say.  They mowed the lawn last time.  It’s someone else’s turn.  They remain glued to the couch watching some cheesy sci fi movie on the scy fy channel.  You throw up your hands in despair and go off to the garage to sulk, trying to decide if you will just end up mowing the lawn yourself.

But then a half hour later, you hear the lawnmower fire up.  Low and behold, your scy fy movie watcher chose to mow the lawn rather than watch some mutant shark do battle with a mutant octopus.  You smile to yourself, sitting there in the garage, shaking your head in wonder at the mystery of life in a family.

That’s the parable.  Or a modern version of it.  We all know the parable.  We’ve all lived it.  By Jesus telling it over 2000 years ago, we quickly realize things haven’t changed very much.

The stinger of the parable is not the story itself, but the question that Jesus asked at the end of the parable.  I’ve already said you have to watch out if you come at Jesus with questions.  He ends up asking the question--usually all it takes is one question--and everything changes.  The question Jesus asks is, “Which of these kids did what the father asked?”

But it’s kind of a trick question.  The answer given to Jesus is the one who mowed the lawn (or worked in the vineyard, depending on whose spin of the story you’re going with).  And that sounds like the right answer.

In reality, neither of the kids did what the father asked.  At least initially.  Both sons in the parable are flawed.  One is an Eddie Haskell type, who says all the right words.  But those platitudes really hide the fact that he’s only a poser.  A manipulator.  A fraud.  Bankrupt of any kind of depth of character.

The other son is a different kind of poser.  He puts up a tough facade.  He thinks his only power is in saying “no” to everything without thinking.  In the end, according to the atheist philosopher Nietzsche, our only power is the ability to say no.  We can always so no to whatever comes our way in life, whether it be good or bad.  We can always say no.  That’s the kind of power the second son seems to subscribe to.  No, no, no, it’s always, no.

But, unlike his brother, no gives way to contemplation.  The other brother said “yes,” but that “yes”--which was really a no--was never going to give way to contemplation.  The brother who says no, thinks about it.  As the parable says, “Later on he thought better of it…”  There is no indication that the other brother had such thoughts.  It’s the only thing that sets the brothers apart.  Both are posers.  Both are less than admirable.  But only one has second thoughts.  Because he is willing to have second thoughts, his life changes.

In our parable of the two sons and their response, we also need to remember who Jesus is talking to.  In the preceding verses, Jesus is talking to the religious leaders in the temple.  This parable of the two sons is an extension of that conversation.  Jesus is talking to good religious folk, who thought they knew it all.  Who thought they had belief and religion all figured out.  Standing there in the temple, the place of religion, talking to religious people in their place of safety, Jesus tells them a story.  A story about saying yes or no.  Saying yes or no about going out and working in the vineyard.  Told to religious people stuck in the temple.

Are you getting the connection?  There were no vineyards in the Temple.  In Jesus’ parable the vineyard usually stands for the world.  Out there.  Out beyond the walls of the religion centers.  Jesus told a story about a father who asks two sons to go to work “out there.”  A story told to religious people who were fine as long as people came into the temple.  But they certainly weren’t going out to the “vineyard.” As long as they could carry on their religion work just in the temple they were fine.

So Jesus’ question, “Which of the two sons did what the father asked?” is what turned the religious people’s world upside down.  And don’t forget the disciples are standing around listening to all this.  Certainly this parable and it’s transforming question is for them as well.  And since we are also disciples, that question reaches through the pages, through 2000 years of time and grabs us by the throat as well.

As I mentioned, the religious people’s answer to Jesus’ question isn’t completely the right answer.  They said the one who eventually went to work in the vineyard is the one who did as the father asked.  But both sons were posers, and neither of their initial answers was the right one.  Fortunately, for Jesus it is seldom about getting the right answer.  Rather, it is about calling those who are listening to him to be transformed.  Yes, it is partially about doing, not just saying.  But in doing, it is because you have thought about it, and in that thinking you allow yourself to see different; to be transformed.  It is doing because a transformation has happened.  Your world has been changed, and that change makes you into a doer.

The religious people, in the temple, didn’t want to be transformed.  They wanted to stay the same.  They wanted to continue to say “yes,” but really mean no.  They wanted to continue with their knee-jerk “no” to everything.  They wanted to stay in the temple and not go out into the vineyard.  They didn’t want to be transformed with the thought that God, and God’s work was really out in the vineyard, not in the temple.

So be careful when you’re talking to Jesus.  Be careful when you ask your questions about the meaning of life.  He will probably have a question for you, and the answer to that question will carry the possibility of turning your world upside down.