Reflections...

A sermon preached at Kowloon Union Church on 27 September 2026, by Revd Jukka Halle. The scripture readings that day was Psalm 25 : 1 – 9 (O.T.) Matthew 21:23-32 (N.T.)

In today’s gospel the chief priests and elders asked Jesus this same question: “By what authority are you doing these things, and who gave you this authority?” Jesus, strangely enough, responds to the challenging question of the chief priests and elders, trusted interpreters of the law and God’s commandments, by asking them about John the Baptist.    – Where and what kind of credentials did John have? His father was Zechariah, a temple priest, but John chose a different life path. By his appearance, his words and behaviour he clearly did not belong to the elite, the inner religious power centre of his own time.  He was an eccentric figure, who dressed strangely and preached with harsh words. Where, then, was John’s authority and credentials?

Matthew 3 tells us about John: “People went out to him from Jerusalem and all Judea and the whole region of the Jordan.  Confessing their sins, they were baptized by him in the Jordan River.” John’s authority was confirmed by the fruits of his preaching: people heard his words, confessed their sins and turned toward God. But eventually the greatness of John was not in his excellence, but he was the forerunner of someone who would come after him and about whom John said that he is not worthy even to untie his sandals.  (Show Gruenewald’s altar piece)

In this painting from the early 16th century, which is part of the Isenheim Altarpiece from the early sixteenth century, John the Baptist points to Jesus on the cross with an abnormally long index finger. One of John’s sayings in the gospels is: He must increase, and I must decrease.

John’s words and finger are good reminders at least for us preachers. A zen-Buddhist saying puts it this way: the preacher should be as interesting as a glass of cold water. The glass itself is not significant, but what it holds inside can quench the thirst. It is not I, or any of us, who am the most important, but if my words and actions can lead others to the true source of life, then they can bring about good fruits. Our credibility, then, depends on whether our words and actions bear witness to God’s love and mercy.

In the second part of today’s Gospel, Jesus tells another parable, the parable of the two sons. As I understand it, the two sons correspond to two groups of people in the story: the first are those chief priests and elders, the guardians of the law of God, respected religious leaders in the eyes of the people, leaders who were expected to follow God’s commandments in their own lives. Then there is a second group, tax-collectors and prostitutes. In the parable, the first son does not initially appear to be a good son. He says no to his father’s command. Maybe the black sheep of the family. But then, Jesus tells us, he changed his mind, perhaps we can use the word converted, and went to work in the vineyard. The second son said yes, I will go, but he did not. He professed obedience with his mouth, but his actions told a different story.

Which son are you, which son are we? Jesus’ words and the parable here teach us that our actions matter more than our words. And there is mercy and grace here: sometimes we get it wrong in the beginning, like the first son, giving a wrong answer. But if we try to follow the way of Christ, there’s always room for change, God always gives us a second chance. Following Christ, doing God’s will does not mean having a spotless and pure spiritual history. Rather, it means allowing God’s call to change the direction of one’s life. And this does not happen only once in a lifetime; we need to hear this call every day

-There’s a beautiful song called “Will you come and follow me” which sings about the call of Christ. Actually, in the song, it is Jesus himself who sings and calls us. “Will you come and follow if I but call your name? Will you go where you don’t know and never be the same? Will you let my love be shown, will you let my name be known, will you let my life grow in you and you in me?” Then, the 4th verse: “Will you love the you you hide if I but call your name? Will you quell the fear inside and never be the same? Will you use the faith you’ve found to reshape the world around, through my sight and touch and sound in you and you in me?”

The words of the song echo the question in today’s Gospel: Will you go where I ask you to go? Will you go where I ask you to go. Often, we don’t know where to go. But the call of loving God echoes gently, repeatedly. Sometimes we get it wrong, but God does not get tired of calling us again.  However, sometimes, as it is the case of today’s gospel, God’s call and inspiration comes in a surprising and unexpected way. John the Baptist was not the kind of person whom people of his time would have expected to carry God’s message. The religious elite did not receive this message, but the tax collectors and prostitutes received both the message and the call. 

When I was preparing this sharing, I came across a song. Its name is I come as a beggar. The lyrics express something of the same divine paradox that we encounter in today’s reading from Matthew. song begins: I come as a beggar with a gift in my hand (2x)… By the hungry I will feed you, By the poor I make you rich, By the broken I will mend you, Tell me, which one is which?

Jesus himself sometimes comes to us as if in disguise, in a form, appearance or voice that we do not expect, in a form, appearance or voice that we do not expect. God is a God of surprises. The messengers of God’s kingdom are often precisely those whom we initially overlook or ignore. Perhaps this, finally, is the true test of Christian authority: not whether people admire us or whether our words sound impressive, but whether our words and actions help others recognise Christ. And perhaps Christ is already coming toward us today in someone we have not yet learned to see.