Does anyone remember May 4, 1970, on the campus of Kent State University? Ohio Governor James A. Rhodes sent the National Guard to Kent State to maintain order during protests against the Vietnam War. On that dark Monday in May, National Guardsmen opened fire on protesters, killing four students and wounding nine others.
And in 1963, Alabama Governor George Wallace literally stood in the doorway of the University of Alabama to prevent two Black students, Vivian Malone and James Hood, from enrolling. Wallace had made segregation a defining part of his political leadership, declaring, “Segregation now, segregation tomorrow, segregation forever.” Federal authority ultimately forced the door open and the students were admitted.
Both men had enormous institutional authority. Both used that authority in ways that caused profound harm.
But their stories didn’t end the same way.
Years later, George Wallace publicly renounced his segregationist position and apologized to civil rights leaders. His story became, among other things, a story of someone who eventually acknowledged that he had been wrong and changed direction.
James Rhodes’ story ended differently. The tragedy at Kent State remained part of his legacy, and there was no comparable public renunciation of responsibility.
Two men with authority. Two very different responses to what they had done.
And that brings us back to Matthew.
Matthew is raising the question of authority in this passage. The religious leaders are asking Jesus, “Who gave you this authority?” But Matthew has already shown us who Jesus is. This is the Son who has come with the Father’s authority. And the question Jesus puts before them—and before us—is what we will do when the Son, in His authority, tells us we’ve been going the wrong way.
Jesus leads the chief priests and elders to that question when he asks them, “Did the baptism of John come from heaven or was it of human origin?”// The religious leaders struggled with their non-answer.
Now “I don’t know” is a legitimate religious response. Going to seminary doesn’t give you all the answers or the knowledge. The priests didn’t learn everything there is to know from studying the Torah at their temple.
The disciples spent three years following Jesus, listening to him, asking him questions, and still didn’t understand everything.
“I don’t know” can be a very Christian confession of faith. It can show humility.
But not in these verses. Here “We don’t know” is evasive. The priests and the elders had rejected John and Jesus, but they weren’t willing to say so publicly. They were dodging the question. And Jesus called them on it.
What do we do when someone in authority tells us we’re doing something wrong, going in the wrong direction? Do we listen? Or do we look for a reason why we don’t have to change?
I had an employee who was told he was in the wrong. Jason wasn’t the easiest employee I ever hired. He challenged authority from the beginning—even before I hired him. But that’s why I did.
During his interview, he confessed to hacking into his school’s grading system and changing grades for his friends, though supposedly not for himself. I was impressed. He earned a suspension from the school—and got a job from me years later.
But he was a bit too relaxed at work. He would arrive late, but leave early to make up the time. Then one day he arrived at work wearing shorts. I pulled him aside, “Jason, you can’t wear shorts in the office. We’re business casual.” He countered, “Did HR say so?” I replied with, “No, I said so.” He agreed, and that was to be the end of it; I had the authority. He had new direction.
Jason’s story didn’t end in my office though. And George Wallace’s story didn’t end at the doorway.
When God confronts us with the truth, don’t look for a loophole—change direction.
Jesus then tells a story about two sons—and the difference between them isn’t what they say. It’s what they do, how they react when they’re presented with their father’s will.
[SCREEN] And that is our second half of today’s gospel lesson, a parable found only in Matthew, and Matthew gives us his special focus on authority. I’m still in chapter 21: 28-32:
The Parable of the Two Sons
[Jesus continues his conversation with the chief priests and the elders of the people, and it starts off with Jesus’ signature question.]
28 “What do you think? A man had two sons; he went to the first and said, ‘Son, go and work in the vineyard today.’ 29 He answered, ‘I will not,’ but later he changed his mind and went. 30 The father went to the second and said the same, and he answered, ‘I go, sir,’ but he did not go. 31 Which of the two did the will of his father?” They said, “The first.” Jesus said to them, “Truly I tell you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are going into the kingdom of God ahead of you. 32 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.
THIS is the Word of the Lord. Thanks be to God.
Did you hear what Jesus just said? ‘Even after you saw it, you did not change your minds.’
They had seen John.
They had heard John.
They had seen what was happening around Jesus.
And still they wouldn’t change.
That’s the tension in this parable. The problem wasn’t that they didn’t have enough information. The problem was that they weren’t willing to change their minds.”
And here’s where Jesus makes the story even more uncomfortable. Jesus explains to those listening that the tax collectors and prostitutes – the outcasts – are going into the kingdom of God before those religious leaders.
These outcasts had seen and heard John the Baptist and believed him. They changed their direction.
But notice that Jesus didn’t say that those listening wouldn’t go to God’s kingdom. He said the outcasts would go, “before you,” not “instead of you.” The religious leaders considered themselves first in line for God’s kingdom, due to their lineage and ritual purity. The outcasts were considered to be at the back of the line, if they were even in line at all.
Jesus is completely inverting the line, and he’s telling those elites, “If you want to get in, you’ll have to follow behind the ones you despise.” What a radical call to humility! And do you think the religious leaders would heed that call? Check back on the story in about four days in the gospel for the answer.
It’s an echo of the “Last will be first and the first will be last,” the lesson we learned last week from the Parable of the Laborers in the Vineyard. Grace is still available, if the religious leaders repent.
And that’s where this parable stops being a story about them and becomes a question for us. Are we willing to change direction when confronted with the truth?
Remember Jason, my employee?
When I told him he couldn’t wear shorts in the office, he asked, “Did HR say so?” I said, “No. I said so.” He was satisfied with my authority – at least to my face.
Jason then did what any perfectly obedient employee would do.
He went looking for a loophole.
He approached me in the afternoon and told me that HR couldn’t find anywhere in the dress code that restricted shorts, so he was going to wear them going forward. So much for recognizing my authority. (I still had control over his annual review and bonus.) J
Jason essentially said:
“No shorts?” → “Okay.” → “Wait, let me find a reason why that doesn’t apply to me.”
Now the characters we’ve been talking about start to look a little different.
· The first son could be George Wallace — He was wrong, but eventually acknowledged it and changed direction.
· The second son could be Jason — He agreed outwardly, but didn’t obey. He looked for a loophole.
· The chief priests and elders wouldn’t change, even when faced with the truth.
The Two Sons parable isn’t simply about obedience. Jesus is using obedience to expose something deeper: humility, repentance, and especially the willingness to change when God confronts us with truth.
And when that happens, don’t look for a loophole. Change direction.
The first son says no, but then changes his mind and gets to work. His “no” wasn’t final.
The second son says “I do, sir,” but avoids the work. His “yes” wasn’t real.
Like the first son, George Wallace changed his mind, changed his direction.
James A. Rhodes didn’t.
The religious leaders wouldn’t.
Maybe some of you sitting in the congregation have said no to God.
Maybe you have resisted, looking for a loophole.
Maybe you spent years doing something you now know wasn’t right.
So where might God be asking you to change direction?
The longer we stay on the wrong path, the harder it can be to admit that we’re going the wrong way. We convince ourselves that turning around would be too difficult, too embarrassing, or too costly. So we keep going.
But Jesus tells us that it’s not too late to turn around. Go to God in prayer. Show humility, ask for direction.
Because the good news of Jesus is that God doesn’t wait for us to get everything right before he offers us grace. We can be going in the wrong direction, and God can still call us to turn around. We can admit that we were wrong. We can change direction. And God’s grace is there when we do.
We’ve spent this morning talking about authority.
But Jesus’ question ultimately isn’t just, “Who has authority?”
And it’s not, “Will you obey the authority?”
Instead, it’s “Will you listen to the truth?”
It’s, “What will you do when you encounter the truth?”
Sometimes we say, “I don’t know.”
Sometimes we say, “I do, sir,” and then go looking for a loophole.
Sometimes we say no.
Jesus points us to the first son. The first son’s no wasn’t final.
He changed his mind. He changed direction.
That’s what repentance looks like.
When God confronts you with the truth, what will you do?
Don’t look for a loophole.
Change direction.
To the Lord our God, Alpha and Omega, beginning and end, be all glory and honor forever.
