This sermon, which is the sixth in a sermon series on the Book of Exodus, was preached at Christ Episcopal Church Eureka on Saturday September 27, 2020.
Readings for the Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 21 – Year A)
Exodus 17:1-7
Psalm 78:1-4, 12-16
Philippians 2:1-13
Matthew 21:23-32
“Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but …humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death–even death on a cross. Therefore God … highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name.”
Our Scripture readings this morning invite us to reflect on power and authority and leadership. If you saw someone else preaching from this pulpit today—someone you didn’t know from Adam—then you might be wondering, “What gives this person the authority to be preaching? Is this person ordained and therefore authorized by a church? And if so, what church? Which denomination? Has this person been properly educated and vetted? Or did Fr. Daniel just pick someone up from off the streets who was speaking enthusiastically about God and the Bible?” What is the source of someone’s authority, especially when it comes to spiritual matters?
These are the questions that emerge in our Gospel reading as the chief priests and elders confront Jesus who is known by the masses as someone “who speaks with authority.” At the end of the Sermon on the Mount, the author of Matthew’s Gospel says, “Now when Jesus had finished saying these things, the crowds were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as their scribes” (Matt 7:28-29). Jesus did not claim authority by citing other rabbis or great teachers with whom he studied. He also didn’t speak quite like the ancient prophets who would explain that their authoritative message came from God (not from themselves) by declaring, “Thus saith the Lord”! Instead Jesus would speak as if he himself were the Lord, repeating the phrase, “You have heard that it was said, but I say unto you,” as if his very words had the same power and authority as the Torah itself. It was this authoritative way of speaking and behaving that made the crowds believe Jesus was not just some great rabbi, but perhaps the Messiah or someone greater still. This, however, did not compute for the chief priests and elders, who expected their rabbis and prophets and messiahs to move through the proper channels of the religious institutions to earn the privilege to speak with some authority on spiritual matters. Like his predecessor and forerunner John the Baptist, Jesus did not jump through the hoops of the religious institutions in order to earn a preaching license. He was not a priest and he did not study under any great rabbi that we know of, so his source of authority and leadership was very suspect at the time.
Now obviously we, as Christians, know that Jesus’s authority came from his divine nature; and as readers, we get to see the absurdity of priests asking God for his credentials. However, in these readings, there’s a deeper teaching about authority and leadership that goes beyond cleverly conveying the revealed truth of Christ’s divinity. Christ is teaching us that those of us who seek to tap into that same divine authority which he perfectly embodied are invited to do so not so much through accumulating credentials, but rather through entering into humble and loving relationship with others. Of course, I’m not denying the absolute importance of education and formation for spiritual leaders (including lay leaders in the church), but I hear a helpful warning in our readings against banking too much of our authority on those credentials, especially if that comes at the expense of love and humility.
In Jesus’s short parable about the two sons, I hear him contrasting two different types of authority. There’s one authority that is based on saying all the right things perhaps eloquently, but then refusing to listen humbly to others. We see that “authority” represented in the son who said the right thing but then disengaged. Jesus compared that kind of authority to a house built on sand. It will fall; and it will fall hard. But there’s another authority that is based on humility and openness and trust and love, and which may even include some awkward fumbling in speech and perhaps saying the wrong thing sometimes. We see that “authority” represented in the son who said the wrong thing, but then engaged in the work the Father called him to do. Jesus compared that kind of authority to a house built on a rock, a house that will withstand all kinds of storms. Those who are empowered with that kind of authority refuse to use their credentials as a weapon to impose their will and desires upon others.
In Paul’s letter to the Philippians, we see him also wrestling with this question of authority and credentials. In chapter 3 (which follows right after the passage we just read), Paul lists his own credentials, describing himself as “circumcised on the eighth day, a member of Israel, from the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews, a successful and zealous Pharisee” (3:5-6) and elsewhere he explains that he studied the Torah under the great Rabbi Gamaliel (Acts 22:3). If anyone had the right credentials and jumped through the proper hoops to speak authoritatively on spiritual matters, it was Paul. But then after listing all of his impressive qualifications, he essentially says that none of it means anything in comparison to the authority he has discovered through Christ and the perfect humility that Christ embodied. In fact, Paul says that he considers many of those qualifications “rubbish” insofar as they kept him away from experiencing Christ and Christ-like love. Paul says something similar in 1 Corinthians 13, “If I don’t have Christ-like love, then everything I say is just annoying sounds” (1 Cor 13:1). St. Paul’s words remind me of some of the final words of the great medieval theologian St. Thomas Aquinas (who wrote the Summa Theologia, a text that became the gold standard for Catholic theology for centuries). After having a profound experience of Christ’s love, St. Thomas said, “All that I have written now seems to me like straw.”
True spiritual authority is not found in excellent theological education and textbooks (although they are very important, don’t get me wrong – you all know how much I love education and books). True spiritual authority is found in humility and listening and sometimes letting go. And we see that expressed so beautifully in the ancient Christian hymn that Paul shares in our reading from Philippians, which is known as the Kenosis hymn, kenosis being Greek for “self-emptying.” Jesus Christ exercised his divine authority by refusing to exploit his power in any way; and by letting go and humbling himself to become a human in order to love and listen to others and ask them what they thought about his stories. “What do you think?” he asks in today’s Gospel. “Here’s a short story. What are your thoughts?” Jesus knew that true authority came from relationships of love and trust and honest engagement.
And Jesus remained open to engaging with others, even when they were antagonistic towards him and hellbent on trapping him. Jesus constantly responded to others with loving curiosity and forgiveness. Even while he was on the cross, he was praying for those who were murdering him. And even when he was pierced in the side with a spear, his body responded by gushing forth blood and water, a powerful symbol of the Eucharist that nourishes us. That’s true authority.
We see that same dynamic at work in our reading from Exodus. Remember we are still wading through the waters of Exodus, the Book of Names, as we have been for many weeks now. The Israelites are complaining (just as they were last week) and God humbly listens and responds by pouring out life-giving water from the rock. God already has all the power in the world (in the universe!) but yet he remains invested in listening humbly to his people, even when they are complaining and antagonistic, because the only real throne that God wants to claim is the throne of our hearts. Once someone sits on the throne of our hearts, they have all the power in the world and they transcend everything else and their name is above all names. So as a faith community named after Christ, the Name above all Names, the perfect embodiment of loving humility, let us find our spiritual power and authority together not so much in all of our excellent programs (like our virtual organ concert this afternoon at 4 pm, our stewardship dinner next Saturday, Sacred Saunter for St. Francis day, our live-stream worship and much more—all of which we care very deeply about and are investing in), but rather let us find our true spiritual power and authority by remaining in humble and loving relationship with each other and the wider community, strengthening our bonds of trust and affection, and securing the King of Love on the throne of our hearts. Amen.
DANIEL DeFOREST LONDON 