A sermon for the Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost: Proper 21
September 27, 2026, at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Hot Springs, AR
Readings: Ezekiel 18:1-4,25-32; Psalm 25:1-8; Philippians 2:1-13; Matthew 21:23-32
Why are there always two sons? Jesus tells us a parable today. One son says he will not go to the vineyard, but later goes. The other son says he will go–he gives his word–but then backs out. Who does the will of his father? Obviously the one who did the work in the end–like the tax collectors and prostitutes listening to Jesus teach in the Temple. They did not follow the law at first, but did respond to John the Baptist’s preaching and repented. This is contrasted with the son who looks the part, says the right things, seems to be on the right track, but then doesn’t follow through–like the chief priests and elders who are confronting Jesus. Be like the first and not the other. Sermon over.
But hold on. There are some things about this parable that bother me. I kind of want to take issue with Jesus’s story. Both sons in the parable mess up. They both miss the mark. Neither one gets it completely right. The first one may have done the will of his father in the end, but wouldn’t it also be the father’s will for him to agree to go in the first place? I kind of want to ask: Lord, what about a son who says he is going to work in the vineyard and in fact does go and work in the vineyard? Maybe my motivation for asking such a question is obvious. I want to be like that son. On my best days I think I am like that son. I’m not perfect, but I try hard and I mostly follow through. Is there the possibility that there’s a third son in the mix? We will come back to that question.
The parables of Jesus are not nice stories. They are meant to provoke. We are supposed to roll them over in our heads, and just when we think we have it all figured out, something new emerges. That’s what parables are supposed to do.
To better understand this parable, let’s zoom out. We read today that Jesus is confronted by the chief priests and elders. These are the folks who know the law, and they are trying to do what’s right. Sometimes we can turn them into evil caricatures and villains, but that’s not right. They really want to follow, obey, and serve God. But for all their striving, they have a lot of trouble with Jesus. He is not who they are expecting. Nor was John the Baptist. They see Jesus and John as popular street preachers without the proper credentials, the proper theology, the proper background. And the scene before today’s gospel has solidified these assumptions. Jesus enters Jerusalem on the back of a donkey to shouts of Hosanna. He goes to the Temple and drives out those who are selling sacrificial animals. He says they are making the temple about making a profit instead of making prayers. That’s why they confront Jesus today. “By what authority are you doing these things?” They are asking, “Just who do you think you are?”
Jesus knows their bias. That’s why he asks them his question about John the Baptist. If they can acknowledge John was sent from God, then they can acknowledge Jesus. But they can’t. For all their desire to follow, obey, and serve God, they cannot see that God is at work. They cannot see that God in the flesh is standing right in front of them. They have answered the call to go into the vineyard, but now they are backing out. But not the tax collectors and prostitutes; not the dregs of society; not those who have no place in polite company. They may not have lived right; they may not have wanted to follow God at first; they may not be model citizens; but now they are flocking to the vineyard.
So we come back to my question: Are these the only two options? Why only two sons? Why only two groups? What about the person who says “Yes, I go,” and then follows through? Because the truth is, I’m most comfortable around the chief priests and elders–around those who prioritize church and living right, who look the part, who are lifted up as examples. They are more like me and the people I know. And let’s be honest: I am uncomfortable identifying with the tax collectors and prostitutes; I am uncomfortable identifying with the sinners. But I also want to be like the first son in the parable who goes to the vineyard to work. Is there a third option?
I was working in a pharmacy my senior year in high school. A fellow pharmacy tech introduced me to the Episcopal Church. He’s the reason I’m here today. He messed with my Pentecostal holiness categories a little bit. You see, I was raised to think a Christian looked a certain way–and only a certain way. And this guy, he knew his Bible; he worshiped every week; he loved Jesus; but he also cussed a little. I think it was him who told me something one day while we were working. I don’t remember what we were talking about but I said something like: “Look, either you’re a sinner or you’re saved. It’s that simple. I’m saved.” He laughed: “Mark, the sooner you accept you’re a sinner just like everyone else, the sooner you will learn that Jesus’s love for you is not dependent on what you do or don’t do.”
He was right. We do not graduate from the status of sinner. We do not grow out of our need for God’s grace. And the moment we think we have everything figured out is the very moment of our falling. That was the problem of the chief priests and elders. Despite their sincere desire to follow, obey, and serve God, they thought they had God figured out. So much so that they could not see God in the flesh standing right in front of them. And in the end, they don’t go to the vineyard. But those tax collectors and sinners–the people we don’t necessarily want to identify with–they don’t have anything figured out. The only thing they see is Jesus, and they are depending on every word that he’s saying. They will follow him to the vineyard–and not only there, but also to the cross and to new and real life.
My friend said, “The sooner you accept you’re a sinner just like everyone else, the sooner you will learn that Jesus’s love for you is not dependent on what you do or don’t do.” That’s my message today. For you and me, children of earth, we are all sinners, and there is not a third option. In the parable, both sons miss the mark in some way. Both sons fail to do the will of their father perfectly. We will fail, too. Accept that you don’t have everything figured out–and follow Jesus anyway. Accept that you will miss the mark–and follow Jesus all the more. Accept that you are going to do this Christianity thing imperfectly–and hold on to Jesus. Hold on tight to his grace and love, for he is holding on tight to you.
And here’s the really good news: there is, in fact, a third Son. There is One who says, ‘Yes, I go,’ and who does the will of his father perfectly. It’s not you and it’s not me. It’s only Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior. He alone is the perfect Son, and by his life, death, and resurrection, we have been granted grace and love. And he has promised that he will carry us home.
