Curate’s sermon. 27.9.26: Matthew 21:23-32

Back in my university days, when I thought I would become an academic, I was part of a small group of researchers who regularly met to discuss interesting art and archaeology and occasionally went on a trip to see that stuff in person. One of those trips was to Algeria. It is quite tricky to organise, but if you get a chance, do go! It is a beautiful country with very warm and welcoming people and a lot of amazing archaeological sites. One of them is St Augustine’s cathedral in Hippo. The foundations are still there, and you can even sit on Augustine’s seat in the apse! Arriving in Algeria, however, was a massive cultural shock. Wherever we went, we had to be accompanied by armed police. Every time we stepped out of the car, we would be immediately surrounded by men with AK-47s. It was not clear whether they went with us because the state did not trust us to be reasonable tourists or its own people not to cause us harm – probably a bit of both. As it turned out, the men were lovely and by the end of the trip we were having lunch together.
I never thought of this as anything other than a peculiar cultural experience, until last week, my parents went to vote at their local polling stations in St Petersburg. For the first time ever, there were men with guns at the polling stations! No one was even allowed to go to the toilet without one of the armed guards giving permission. This made me think about not only the presence of guns in ordinary everyday spaces, like a local school or a random archaeological museum, but of the perceived need of the state to have weapons on display like this. I think the answer is authority. Whoever has a gun has authority. A lethal weapon must be one of the most extreme statements of power and control; in its presence no one can ever be confused as to where they stand and whom they should obey.
That said though, I think there is a paradox in such a display of power. I think it actually is a symptom of extreme weakness. The only reason for a government to have the army and armed police in peaceful public places is because the government is threatened by the people and has reasons to think that its authority would not be respected otherwise. This is what an enforced authority looks like.
Reflecting on the nature of authority, I came to a conclusion that there are other types of it too. For me, the three categories that seem to make sense are the following: authority enforced by display of physical power, which I have just mentioned, authority imposed by law and authority that is freely chosen and accepted.
We have already touched on the first one, so let us now look at the other two. And we have Jesus to help with these. In the Gospel reading, when the high priests and the elders approach him asking by whose authority he does what he does, my guess is they do so with an understanding of two possible acceptable earthly sources of authority. One is that of Rome, imposed by power, which we have already discussed. The other is the authority of the law which governs the Jewish society. The law for the Jews – and for the chief priests and others who are zealous defenders of tradition – is the foundation of a whole way of living. The law is the basis of both social life and people’s relationship with God, sealed by a covenant. The authority of the law is built into institutions, social norms and even individual behaviours. It is systematic and there is an expectation that laws are followed; there are punishments if not, and in addition, there are groups like the Pharisees who seek out untoward behaviours in order to make them conform. This is exactly what they usually try to do with Jesus. For comparison, the society we live in, I would say, is governed by law in similar ways. Pretty much every sphere of our life is regulated by a legislative framework: finances, employment, criminal and administrative matters, plus there are things like GDPR and the Highway Code. We don’t need a man with a gun to follow us to obey these laws: we do it because we recognise the authority of the law itself. And if we don’t, then yes, there is punishment.
Jesus brilliantly avoids answering the chief priests’ question, knowing that this is a trap, and it then seems that this conversation is abandoned and we are given a completely new story, in which Jesus tells a parable about two sons. Except this is not a separate story; if we continue to think about authority, this is a direct continuation of the conversation that has just taken place.
It is now clear that Jesus does not quite fit into a framework where the law has all the authority. To everyone present, this is probably the only acceptable kind, but Jesus goes on to tell them that another type of authority is in fact possible: authority that is freely chosen and freely accepted.
So let us look at the parable he tells. I will start from the end, with the second son. The second son says what the father wants to hear from him but does whatever suits him best, not what the father has asked. In this scenario, the father is clearly not an authoritative figure to the son. The father’s request tries to assert some authority but the son’s actions reject it. The first son initially follows a similar impulse: he rejects the authority of the father by refusing to do what he has asked, but then clearly thinks about it and changes his mind. The father, in the meantime, does not ask again, does not threaten and does not impose any conditions or moral expectations on the son. When the son changes his mind, he freely, of his own accord, chooses to respect the authority of the father. Translating this passage into the language of faith and spirituality, the father here is God the Father and the son is all of us who choose to have faith in Him. True faith is not something that can be enforced. If it is, we will end up like the second son: saying the right thing to appear agreeable but not in fact believing anything in our heart. True faith can only be discovered through freedom of choice, and the spark that starts it may indeed follow the initial impulse of rejection. But the point is that when it comes to faith, real faith, there is no place for coercion or even expectation: it can only be real if it is free. This is beautiful but is also scary, because such freedom results in a 50/50 chance that the authority of God will or will not be affirmed.
For anyone who cares about mission and faith, the tempting choice is to limit the freedom, to ban alternative viewpoints and to control the environment in such a way that more people come to faith. And, ironically, this is the weakest option, because, as I have mentioned, authority imposed by power is the most fragile of all. By contrast, authority that is chosen freely is the most risky one but is also the strongest one. This authority is built on genuine respect and faith in the ultimate righteousness of such an authority. It is built on a personal commitment to God and an understanding that His authority is superior to all others.
So whenever we see freedom of choice curbed or the source of authority misplaced, especially if we see it in the Church, we should remind ourselves that God wants us to choose freely and come to him with honesty. If any voices are silenced out of fear that they will somehow damage anyone’s faith, it is by no means done with any recognition of God’s authority. After all, it is a man’s method to rule with a gun and coercion, but God reigns with love and freedom and expects the same from us. Amen.