Sermon for Sunday, September 27, 2026

September 27, 2026
By Kristin Berkey-Abbott




Matthew 21:23-32




In the church of my youth, both childhood and teenage youth, we would not have had a pet blessing service. We didn’t have pets in church ever—it was before the days of emotional support animals, and the wider use of service dogs. I remember asking if our family dog would be in Heaven with us, and the adults hesitated—except for my 5th grade Sunday School teacher, a crusty old guy, who probably wasn’t as old as he is in my memory, who had no doubts when he told me that no, our pets did not have souls, and therefore could not go to Heaven.


These days, theologians might strike a more nuanced tone—Sunday School teachers too. Pastors declare that God loves all of creation, making it much harder to declare that humans have been put in place to have God’s favor exclusively. Some activists would remind us that as creatures with the power to reason, we have special responsibilities to take care of all of creation. Of course, that distinction raises other concerns about non-human animals with great reasoning and problem solving skills.


Our ancestors might be baffled at the idea of a pet blessing part of worship. Some of today’s worshippers might be wishing we had a pet blessing more than once a year—much the same we might should bless backpacks more than once a year—not so much because backpacks need more blessings, but because it’s such a tangible reminder to pray for our students and all who work with them in schools and after school.


We are not the first generation to wrestle with the question of what Christians should be doing—both in worship and in the world. In today’s Gospel, we see that these questions are there from the beginning. Even Jesus gets asked: “By whose authority are you doing what you are doing?” In other words, where did you get your training?


It’s always a good question to keep in mind as we try new approaches—or as we cling to old traditions. Some people who declare themselves to be church growth experts might advise us to try all sorts of activities to “see what sticks” and to keep doing whatever gets us the most enthusiastic response is what we should be doing. By that metric, we might ditch everything and only offer a fish fry dinner every Friday. And our bishop might have similar questions to those of the chief priests and elders in today’s Gospel—by whose authority are you making these decisions?


In meaningful ways, the chief priests and elders in the Gospel are doing due diligence. Let’s situate today’s Gospel in the timeline of the life of Jesus. Jesus has been attracting attention and followers, and he’s traveled to Jerusalem with the triumphal entry that we celebrate on Palm Sunday. We’re at the point after he’s thrown money changers out of the Temple, but before he’s hauled into court proceedings.


The chief priests and elders need to decide who Jesus is: some scruffy vagabond preacher who will go away or implode on his own? A rebel stirring up problems with both the Romans in charge and Jewish leadership? Is he a serious threat? Or – could he really be the Messiah?


Bible scholar N. T. Wright reminds us that the only one who would have more authority over the Temple than the chief priests and elders would be the Messiah. Jesus was certainly acting like he had more authority than the chief priests and elders, but many others had done that too, and it had not ended well. Then, as now, there are plenty of people who see themselves as the ones having the answers that no one else has received. But could Jesus really be the Messiah? Is he acting this way because God gave him authority?


In fact, this question is a central one that threads through the Gospel of Matthew, this question of how we know the Messiah and how we know that Jesus is the Messiah. I raise that question not to challenge anyone’s faith, but I ask it because it is a Gospel question.


Those of us gathered here have probably settled the Messiah question for ourselves or at least come to a comfortable unsettledness—that’s why we’re here, after all. But like first century Christians, we may be wrestling with how we live our faith as followers of the Messiah.


Jesus answers the question in today’s Gospel by reminding the listeners that God has sent messengers before, most recently in the form of John the Baptist. Some hear and change their lives. Some hear and agree, yet do not have the moral courage to change. What is the faithful response?


We hear the parable of the sons, and we understand the implications. It’s fine to proclaim Jesus as savior. But if our lives are the same as the guy down the street who lives his life in service to profits and money, what good is that proclamation? If a belief does not influence the way we live our lives, it is not a true belief.


Of course, ideally, we would be like neither of these sons. Our actions would match our words. I’ve said it before and it’s worth repeating: the most effective testimony that we can give is living faithful lives, where our actions match our faithful words.


We do that by considering who and what has come before us. We don’t throw out traditions just because they are old. We don’t adopt every new trend that comes our way, just because we hope to attract new members. When people ask, “By whose authority do you do these things,” we’ve done the discernment work, and we can answer. God looked at this creation before and after humans and pronounced it good. We ask God’s blessing on backpacks to remind us to pray for our students and their challenges. We ask God’s blessing on pets to remind us that God has provided us a supportive and loving creation that is good and good for us.


Jesus gives authority to those first believers, and it has been handed down through the ages to us. Let us use our gifts of wisdom and discernment as we decide what traditions to keep and what new ideas to develop. It is our responsibility for what we loose on earth will be loosed in Heaven and what we cling to on earth will be with us in Heaven.