Power?

Matthew 21:23-32

September 27, 2026

 

            “Because I said so.”

            These four words are some of the most basic, simple, seemingly benign words in the English language. Yet when I was a child, the combination of these common words held the power to undo me. I hated hearing them. To my childish way of thinking, they were the epitome of all that was unfair and unjust in the world.

            All I wanted to know was, “Why?” Why can’t I do this or why can’t I have that? But as a kid, it seemed like the only response I ever received from my parents to my sincere inquiries about the limits enforced upon me was, “Because I said so.”

            I swore on everything I held sacred that when I grew up and had children of my own, I would never, ever say those four words to my own kids. I would always carefully and lovingly explain to my children why they could not do something or why I expected something from them. I would strive to ensure that my children understood my reasoning. The phrase, “Because I said so,” would be anathema in my home.

            Never say never.

            Becoming a parent makes you understand your own parents a little better. My parents were not tyrannical authoritarians. They would often talk to me about their expectations of me, and attempt to explain why they made the decisions they did. But I realize now that there just weren’t enough hours in the day to calmly answer my every questioning of their authority with,

            “Amy, we love you. Your well-being and safety are more important than anything to us.”

Or, “Amy, it is our job as your parents to teach your responsibility, to make sure you can function in society on your own.”

            Or, “We take seriously our task to rear you to be an engaged, thoughtful, compassionate, caring citizen – not just of these United States, but of the world that God has given us.”

            Or, “We set these limits because no matter what the standardized tests say about your intelligence, sometimes your decisions make us question whether you and your brain leave the house at the same time.”

            “Because I said so” was quicker and made the point without a lot of fuss and bother. It is a statement of authority and of power to a certain extent. It states clearly that I am the parent and you are not. Even though as a child I did not like hearing these four words, as a parent I learned quickly that I had to be the parent. I was the parent and my kids were not. Sometimes “Because I said so,” was the surest way to drive that truth home. And to prove that life goes in cycles, just the other day Zach told me how much he hated it when I would say, “Because I said so.” And I thought to myself, “Just wait.”

            Authority and power are at the heart of this passage in Matthew’s gospel. When Jesus comes into the temple, the chief priests and elders approach him while he is teaching and ask, “By what authority are you doing these things, and who gave you this authority?”

            Who gave you the right to do and say what you do and say? Who gave you the power? Who do you think you are?

            The larger context this passage lives in tells us a lot about what is happening within our verses. We are not reading about just a random day in the temple. Significant events led up to this moment and to this question. Chapter 21 begins with Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, or what we know as Palm Sunday. Jesus rode into the city as a king, and because of this the entire population of Jerusalem was cast into confusion and tumult. From there Jesus went to the temple and “cleansed it.” That’s a rather bland way to describe what Jesus really did, which was overturning the tables of the money changers and knocking over the seats of the merchants selling doves. He drove them out and charged them with turning his Father’s house into a den of thieves. Once those folks were gone, he healed people. The blind and the lame came to him to be made whole. This infuriated the religious folks who held their own brand of power, which made the cross loom ever nearer.

            After all this, Jesus left the temple and went to Bethany to spend the night. The next morning, as he made his way back to the temple he stopped by a fig tree hoping to find some fruit for breakfast. But the fig tree was barren; no fruit, just leaves. He cursed the fig tree and it withered at the sound of his voice. The disciples were amazed at this, and Jesus explained it by ascribing it to faith. If you have more faith than doubt, you can tell a mountain to throw itself into the sea and it will happen.

            Now we come to our passage. Jesus has returned to the temple. He is teaching. The chief priests and elders come to him and demand to know who gave him his authority, where does he believe his power comes from, and who the heck does he think he is?! But their question is a trap and Jesus knows it. If Jesus says the wrong thing, then they can accuse him of blasphemy which was no light offense. But the religious authorities have never set a trap for Jesus that he does not see through, so rather than answer their question, he asks one of his own.

            “I will also ask you one question; if you tell me the answer, then I will also tell you by what authority I do these things. Did the baptism of John come from heaven, or was it of human origin?”

            The religious folks know that they have stumbled into a snare of their own making. If they say that John’s baptism was of divine origin, then Jesus will want to know why they didn’t believe him. Because wouldn’t that mean they did not believe God? But if they say it was of human origin, then the crowds will turn on them because the people believe that John was a prophet. The only safe answer is the one they give. “We don’t know.”

            Jesus responds, “Well, if you don’t know, then I’m not going to tell you the origin of my authority.”

            But Jesus does tell them a parable about a father and two sons. The father asks both sons to go and work in his vineyard. The first son refuses but then changes his mind and does what has father asked. The second son replies in the affirmative. He will go and work in the vineyard but doesn’t make good on his promise. Jesus questions the questioners,

            “Which of the two did the will of the Father?” They answer, “The first.” Jesus then equates the son who does the will of the Father with tax collectors and prostitutes. The sinners, the castoffs and cast outs of society, the ones who said, “No,” are now the ones who go “into the kingdom of God ahead of you.”

            Jesus makes it clear that John’s authority, John’s power, should have convinced the chief priests and scribes, but they did not believe him. But the tax collectors and the prostitutes did. They heard John. They believed John. They flocked to the wilderness to be baptized by John. They recognized how lost and broken they were and they believed. Even though they originally said no. They changed their mind and they took faith from words to action. So they will go into the kingdom of God ahead of the religious professionals.

            I guess Jesus could have responded to the original question with, “Because I said so.” He was and is the Son of David. He was and is the incarnate coming of the holy into the world. He had that authority and he held that power. Instead, he tells a parable about two sons and turns it back to John. John came with authority, the authority of a prophet, power given by God, but you wouldn’t believe him. You wouldn’t listen to him. Now you demand to know my authority?! Yet the people you have deemed unfit to even be in your presence heard and believed John, and they will be in God’s presence before you will.

            The one thing that the religious leadership – and the disciples and a whole lot of other folks if I’m honest – never really understood is what Jesus tried to teach them about power. I realize the word power is not used in this passage. And while it is a synonym of authority, it does carry a different connotation. Jesus understood where his power and authority came from. It came from the Author of life, of all creation. And I believe that Jesus knew he could have used his power to get what he wanted, to do what he wanted, and to avoid what he wanted to avoid. But he understood what power truly is, and it is a lesson that the people then and us now cannot seem to grasp.

            Jesus understood that power is not something you wield against others. Power is something that you lay down for the sake of others. Isn’t that what the Christ hymn in our passage from Philippians speaks to? He had the power to make the story go in a very different direction, but he chose not to use his power as a weapon but as a blessing instead. 

            The people around Jesus constantly misunderstood his power. And we do too. We think that power is about strength and might. We think that power is something we hold. But Jesus, in everything he did, even driving out the moneychangers, was about turning our notions of power upside down. True strength is found in what the world considers weakness. True power is not something to cling to but to let go. True authority is not what we grasp for ourselves but what is given to us. True wealth comes not from what we hoard but from what we give away. In about five days from the time of this confrontation, the chief priests and elders will think they have won. But that death is just the beginning of the story God continues to write, to author, to create, to speak into being.

            Which son will we be? The one who says no, but then gets a glimpse of the true power of God and says yes to the work of the kingdom? Or will we be like the son who says yes, but then gets lost in the world’s power and abandons the kingdom work to be done? Which power will we follow? Which power will we cling to? That’s the question. Thanks be to God.

            Let all of God’s children say, “Alleluia.”

            Amen.