“Changing LIghtbulbs”

Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost

October 1, 2023

Matthew 21:23-32

Children’s Message:

Bring flute in its case. Do you know what this is? I can blow air over the hole and make a sound. And I can make music when I push down buttons. And just from that description, you should know how good I am at playing it, right? No? Maybe if I open it up.

Now, do you believe I can play it? Oh, you need proof? Okay.

I’m not as good as I used to be, though. I wonder why. Why do you think? Oh, because I don’t practice. I can remember playing really complicated music. I could probably struggle through some of it again. But I don’t sound as good as I used to because I don’t practice. I don’t actually PLAY anymore.

Today, we heard about two sons. Their dad told them to do something. The first one said, “I don’t wanna.” Sound familiar? Well, that first one went and did it anyway. Eventually. The second one said, “Okie dokie. I’ll take care of it.” But he never did. Does that sound familiar? So, which one did what the dad asked? The first one. Even though he didn’t want to.

Like playing my flute, I can talk about it all day long, but if I don’t do it, it doesn’t happen. You can talk about how much you love God, how faithful you are, what a good Christian you are, how often you go to church—but if you don’t act like a faithful follower of Jesus, no one is going to believe you. It’s all just talk.

Let’s pray. Dear God, help us do what you ask of us, even when we don’t want to. Amen.

Message:

You all know the famous joke about how many people it takes to change a lightbulb. Well, in the Christian tradition, here are various answers, depending upon denomination.

Charismatic: Only 1 – Hands are already in the air.

Pentecostal: 10 – One to change the bulb, and nine to pray against the spirit of darkness.

Presbyterians: None – Lights will go on and off at predestined times.

Baptists: At least 15 – One to change the light bulb, and three committees to approve the change and decide who brings the potato salad and fried chicken.

Episcopalians: 3 – One to call the electrician, one to mix the drinks, and one to talk about how much better the old one was.

Methodists: Undetermined – Whether your light is bright, dull, or completely out, you are loved. You can be a light bulb, turnip bulb, or tulip bulb. Bring a bulb of your choice to the Sunday lighting service and a covered dish to pass.

Nazarene: 6 – One woman to replace the bulb while five men review church lighting policy.

Lutherans: None – Lutherans don’t believe in change.

Amish: What’s a light bulb?

The amusing thing—or perhaps not so amusing—is the hesitancy we all have toward change. It speaks of loss. It marks an end to old ways. But what if the old ways no longer work? What if the old ways have stopped illuminating good news? The best way to kill a church is to say, “We’ve always done it that way.”

This week, I found myself stressing about locating a photographer who could take pictures of the confirmands again this year. Fall has become a busy season for photographers with senior pictures. One person we’ve used in the past just couldn’t fit it in her schedule. And then I thought, we’ve got all of these phones with fancy cameras on them. Why are we trying to hire a photographer? Because we’ve always done it that way. That was a smack in the face.

This past month, we were talking about the reformation in Catechism, and I was asking the kids what it would take to make them leave a congregation. What would be something that you just couldn’t abide participating in as a member of a church. And I mentioned that in some places, people have left their churches because of the color of carpet chosen for the sanctuary. I got a lot of blank stares. When I asked what was essential—non-negotiable—it wasn’t about the building or the music. It was very simple: The church has to preach Christ.

In today’s gospel text, we hear about the chief priests and elders confronting Jesus. To understand this, we need to rewind a bit in the chapter. It was only the day before that Jesus rode into Jerusalem to the cries of the people: “Hosanna. Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!” The poor and disenfranchised saw him as their savior. They called upon him and worshiped him as one who was sent by God to change their world.

From there, Jesus went directly to the Temple and toppled the tables of the money changers. They had set up a system that defrauded the people from outlying areas who had to travel too far to bring their own live sacrifices. They over-charged for the animals they sold to the people, but the people had no choice if they were to offer their worship properly. Under the authority of the priests, the Temple—the house of God—had become a place of thieves and conmen.

Jesus was systematically destroying the unjust systems established by the authority of humans in order to replace them with justice and righteousness, established by God. It’s no wonder he was confronted. But the chief priests and elders were not typically a unified group of people. The chief priests were allowed to practice their work under the authority of Rome. They had become collaborators with the Empire in exchange for a bit of wealth and protection. They appeared to serve God and the Temple, but their allegiance was divided.

On the other hand, the elders had been put in place by the common people. Their authority came from the power of the crowds. They served the people. Of course, the priests’ authority had more weight, but it was up to the elders to keep the peace between Rome and the Israelites.

So, when these two groups came to Jesus, they weren’t just challenging his authority. They wanted to know what side he was on. Clearly, he had the accolades of the population. And just as clearly, he was no friend to the Empire. Who chose him, who backed him, who put him up to this that he would start upsetting the delicate balance that was the Jewish life? Who told him the lightbulb needed changing?

The question they ask is, of course, a trap. They know he believes that he speaks for God. But he has no formal training to be a priest, and he’ll sound like a nut-job, if not a full-on rebel leader, if he says he’s been sent by God. In fact, that would be blasphemy, punishable by death. “Just say the words, Jesus. Give us a reason.” Obviously, Jesus is smarter than that. He lets them walk into their own impossible trap.

Was John the Baptizer operating from human authority or God’s authority? And they’re stuck. If the chief priests say it was on behalf of God, they’ll be seen as frauds because they didn’t support him. If the elders admit that it was on behalf of the people, the crowd will turn against them because they didn’t work to protect him from the Roman authorities. The only answer they can agree on is, “We don’t know.”

Because it’s political for them. They don’t want to answer because to do so would mean risking the tentative hold on power that they currently have. It has nothing to do with what they think or believe. It has nothing to do with what their hearts tell them. It’s all politics. And Jesus knew it.

His parable about the two sons is perfectly on-point. You have the one who, when his Father asks him to go into the field, says that he doesn’t want to. “I will not,” isn’t in this case the same as “I won’t;” it’s “I do not will or want to do this.” But he goes anyway. Maybe not happy about it. But he does it. The other son says, “Sure, I’ll go do it.” He has the immediate gratification of appearing to be the good child. Except he never gets around to it. He finds other things to do. Things he likes. Things that will serve him and not his Father.

When Jesus asks which one actually followed through, the leaders are stuck. Even a small child knows the answer. And it doesn’t take much thought to see where Jesus is going with this. He’s comparing these leaders to the second son—the one who wanted to appear obedient but didn’t actually serve his Father. Their bulb had dimmed in the shadow of threat, power, and the promise of wealth. They no longer illuminated the good news of God’s love and faithfulness. They were in their positions for the sake of themselves. To serve their own needs and desires first.

So, Jesus proceeded to change the lightbulb. But we humans don’t like change. It represents loss and the end of what is familiar. But the world is changing around us, whether we like it or not. The Church is no longer the center of community—a ‘given’ for ‘good’ people. Racism and sexism and discrimination over gender expression and sexual preference is no longer acceptable—regardless what the loudest voices in politics might suggest. Climate change is no longer debated—it’s real, and it’s doing real damage. The old ways of doing things have stopped working. The time is long over-due to change our ways.

God has given us the task of challenging the ways that hurt us and others. God has called us to love God and love neighbor, to care for creation, to welcome the stranger, to protect the weak. It’s not easy work. It’s not comfortable. More often than not, we’ll say, “I really don’t want to.” It’s okay. But the task is still important.

How many Christians does it take to change a lightbulb? Friends, Jesus already did it. Now, it’s just a matter of flipping the switch.

Pastor Tobi White

Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church

Lincoln, NE