Hi everyone,
Here is the re-recording of the sermon that was preached on September 27th, 2026, for the 18th Sunday after Pentecost.
I know what you’re thinking, “this guy has been back for like 3 weeks now… he better not talk about his dumb trip again…” At least, if you weren’t thinking it before, you probably are now. And truth be told, it did take basically my all to not include my trip in this sermon, because… well, I’m not sure if you noticed, but I kind of like to tell stories.
In fact, some of the guys I play cards with on occasion actually call me “story guy.” So much so, that if I’m going to be at a game that day, they’ll change it from just “poker” to “poker and stories.” So yeah, I guess I like to talk a little bit. I like to chat. I like sharing and being shared with. It that really all that bad?
Apparently, my wife thinks so. She’d rather remain quiet and mysterious, and not tell anyone anything about anything at all if she could help it. And this might seem like she and I are the perfect match, where I can do the talking and she can do the listening. Except… well my talkativeness at times annoys her (among other things). There was a time when I said I was looking forward to a certain event at the kids’ school so I can catch up with some of the parents and she actually said in exasperation, “why do you have to be so chatty?”
I’ll admit, I was a bit taken aback… because, really what is wrong with that? What’s wrong with wanting to talk to people? What’s wrong with wanting to connect with others? What’s wrong with sharing deep and personal and maybe embarrassing stories that may or may not involve your family?
Oh wait, I think I get it.
And before you think I just proved her right by sharing this with you, I did ask her permission. She may have rolled her eyes and said “whatever,” but permission is still permission.
But my point isn’t to embarrass her or solidify in your minds that yes, I actually am that annoying. Rather, my point is that… well… don’t we often have these kinds of differences of opinion with people who aren’t us? Like don’t we sometimes look at others and be like, “there’s no way I’d do that in that way” or “say things in that way” or “drive like such a moron in that way”.
Now, I’m not saying that she’s wrong in saying that I’m too chatty or that I’m wrong in thinking that she isn’t chatty enough. Rather, I’m just saying that we’re… different. We roll differently. We see the world and react to things differently. And we have different reasons for doing our different things differently.
The problem though comes when we equate the different things WE do and HOW we do them as the one and only right way. When we somehow moralize our opinions, thoughts, and feeling and thus equate anything that doesn’t line up with us as immoral. When we begin to act like God in God’s place and automatically think that whoever isn’t exactly like us must be against us. And since we’ve become the authority in our minds of what is right and wrong, then very obviously whoever isn’t just like us isn’t right.
“By what authority are you doing these things, and who gave you this authority?”
This is the question that the chief priests ask Jesus out of frustration and exasperation. See, this comes chronologically in Matthew’s account right after Jesus overturns the tables of the money changers and merchants in the temple. This is right after Jesus quite literally turned their customs and traditions, their belief system, their livelihood upside down. So, you can’t exactly blame them for pointing this accusatory finger at Jesus, because this was a bit more than talking too much and being too chatty. This was a fundamental disconnect in religious practice, doctrine, and identity.
I mean, they have been doing this from way before Jesus was just a glimmer in the Holy Spirit’s eye. These traditions and customs have been in place for almost as long as the temple stood. Their power and authority, according to them and their worldview, comes from the God who created the world and everything in it, including the systems that benefit only a select few. So how dare Jesus? Really, how dare he be so bold and brash and… liberating?
From our vantage point, we’d of course be on Jesus’ side and see so clearly the error of the religious leaders’ ways. Of course they shouldn’t have been making the temple a marketplace. Of course they shouldn’t have been trying to make an honest but sort of dishonest buck off the backs of the poor and underprivileged. Of course they shouldn’t have been acting in a way that we never would have, right? Instead of questioning Jesus’ authority in doing these things, maybe they should have been questioning their own.
But then I wonder what would be our modern-day equivalent to Jesus turning over the tables in the temple. I know it wouldn’t be a minor thing like what stories we should share in our sermons, but perhaps it’d be something like suggesting our worship be held in a different place or time other than right here on a Sunday morning. Or maybe start using hymns that don’t show up in one of our many hymn books that we use. Or maybe even just to recognise how we don’t need to hold so tightly onto our traditions, our customs, and our ways of doing things, be it Lutheran or not.
Still, those might seem kind of minor to our forward-thinking and progressive congregation. But what if we felt called to spend every last dime we worked so hard to save up over the years on helping the less fortunate? What if we felt the nudging to close our church doors and invest more time with people in our community? What if we were for whatever reason unable to worship how we always have been and had to find a new, perhaps more authentic way, of expressing our faith? We just might want to ask by what authority are we asked to do these things.
Because, like we just talked about, we see our ways, the ways that we were taught, the ways we ascribe to, as the right ways. And it’s not just us, I think of the atrocities committed by the church throughout history in God’s name, through assimilation and subjugation under the guise of evangelism and salvation. I think of all the ways that the church denounced whole cultures and people groups simply because they weren’t the right brand of Christian enough. I think of all the ways we continue to dehumanise those in the margins by mislabelling sin, evil, and not recognising God’s grace on all people.
Today is the Sunday before Truth and Reconciliation Day. A day that we as a country reflect on how we’ve treated the original caretakers of this land, how the systems that are put in place aren’t just to benefit that select few but purposely make the lives of the majority more difficult and exploitable, how our innate racism continues to thrive and informs us of who we can trust and who is just wrong.
But this is not just to make us feel bad and remorseful. Truth and Reconciliation Day is set up for us to reflect, yes, but also to move forward. To recognise how we can’t undo the past but we can change the future. To see how the imbalance of power has benefited some and not others and find ways that we as a society can live more equitably and with compassion.
And maybe this is the table that Jesus is overturning in our lives. Maybe this is how we might have a difference of opinion with God and perhaps each other. Maybe at this, we might mutter or even shout “by whose authority” when we are faced with some hard decisions and changes.
But through it all, we are reminded that even in our differences in background, customs, and traditions, we are made to be equal. Even in our uneven power dynamics, we are made to be worthy. Even in the disparity of our social constructs and opinions, we are made deserving of love, respect, and welcome into God’s community. And we are called to live that, be that, and proclaim that to all the world. This is the authority of God that calls us to this, the authority of compassion, grace, and love.
In this season after Pentecost and this upcoming Truth and Reconciliation Day, may we recognise and acknowledge the inequality in power, privilege, and even piety that we’ve supported, and learn to submit to God’s authority of compassion, grace, and love, that we be empowered to live and be God’s people in the world. Thanks be to God. Amen.
