Category Archives: Lent2015

Say What You Mean

Parable of the Two Sons, Matthew 21:28-31(32)

“What do you think? A man had two sons; he went to the first and said, ‘Son, go and work in the vineyard today.’ He answered, ‘I will not’; but later he changed his mind and went. The father went to the second and said the same; and he answered, ‘ I go, sir’; but he did not go. Which of the two did the will of his father?” They said, “The first.” Jesus said to them, “Truly I tell you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are going into the kingdom of God ahead of you.” (For John came to you in the way of righteousness and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors and the prostitutes believed him; and even after you saw it, you did not change your minds and believe him.)

Be careful what you say; you can’t take those words back.

I don’t remember when my parents told me this, or if these were the exact words. These are the words I hear when I’m about to tell a secret or a lie. I hear them when discussion starts to go south, turning into argument. And the companion that goes along with this truth:

If you say it, you mean it.

I don’t mean that words said in anger are the ones that people live by at all times. Still, when angry and bitter words come, they come from somewhere; there is a time and a place in the heart where the words are true. When they are spoken, they take on a life in the heart of the hearer as well as in the speaker, changing each. Grace and forgiveness are needed to grow past them.

When the first son said no, he meant it. Later he thought better of it and his actions show he meant a yes. When the second son said yes, he meant it. Later he thought worse of it and his actions meant a no. Neither of these sons can take back their words. They can make good on them or they can turn away from the reality they created, living out their father’s request or letting it go unfulfilled.

This parable gives me hope even as it confirms what I’ve believed about words: they count, and they can’t be unsaid. But I can think better of them and work to change the reality they created. And when I pay lip service without true service, even then, there is a place in my heart that holds the yes. With grace and forgiveness, I just may find it.

Parable of the Two Sons


“What do you think? A man had two sons; he went to the first and said, ‘Son, go and work in the vineyard today.’ He answered, ‘I will not’; but later he changed his mind and went. The father went to the second and said the same; and he answered, ‘ I go, sir’; but he did not go. Which of the two did the will of his father?” They said, “The first.” Jesus said to them, “Truly I tell you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are going into the kingdom of God ahead of you.” (For John came to you in the way of righteousness and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors and the prostitutes believed him; and even after you saw it, you did not change your minds and believe him.) 
Matthew 21:28-31(32) NRSV

The first son had no intention of doing what his father asked and said so without so much as an “excuse me,” or “sorry, no.” Some time later, he changed his mind and went into the vineyard to do the work his father asked of him.

The second son was just the opposite – a positive reply with a deferential “sir” attached, the very image of respect and courtesy. Quickly, he turned away from making good on his pretty words and whatever work he might have accomplished evaporated into a fog of good intention.

I’ve snapped a rude no to a task then later thought better of it; I’ve said an enthusiastic yes to a request and never followed through. Honest to God, I have. But the staggering truth Jesus shows me in this parable: there’s no such thing as good intentions that don’t lead to action. Sometimes circumstances interfere and I can’t follow through as quickly or directly as I had hoped. In rare cases, I never get out to the vineyard because something beyond my control makes it impossible. But most of the time, if I don’t act, then I didn’t really intend to do the work in the first place. I just hate to admit this to myself or reveal it to others.

Like Yeast

He told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened.”

(Matthew 13:33,NRSV)

Yeast is a staple in my kitchen. Not the little packages found in the market’s baking goods aisle, but vacuum packed one pound bags purchased a few times a year and stored in the fridge after opening. On an average week, I use three tablespoons of it to make bread and at least a couple of teaspoons to make rolls or pizza dough. It has a distinct scent that’s hard to describe but instantly recognized by most people who’ve visited a bakery or bake themselves.

Whether I start the yeast in warm water by itself or add it directly into a flour/water/salt mixture, it doesn’t take long to see its effects. The dough grows, expanding out and up, adding volume and lowering the density evenly throughout. Add some time and heat, and yeast turns a heavy lump of flour into a bagel, baguette, focaccia, or doughnut – the staff of life or a fancier version of it.

Yeast plus yeast equals yeast; yeast plus flour equals something more than just those two things. Yeast isn’t really an addition in its own right: it’s a transforming element that infuses everything it touches, creating something light and sustaining, an everyday wonder of taste and texture.

Is that what the kingdom of heaven is? Not something added to the end of life, but something that’s mixed into its very grain? The kingdom of heaven an everyday wonder, light and sustaining – am I so blind that I can’t see this in others and in myself?