I read something this past week about bananas that was interesting.  A few years ago, the banana industry figured out the exact shade of yellow which would sell the most bananas.  Surveys determined Buttercup yellow bananas are more likely to sell on grocer’s shelves than Vibrant Yellow ones.  As a result of this, the industry subjected all their plants to conditions which grow bananas that ripen to a perfectly hued buttercup.  And that would great if the buttercup yellow banana tasted as good as any other banana.  But it doesn’t.  You see, the growing conditions which make it ripen to buttercup yellow negatively impact its taste.  It may not be as likely to be purchased in a store, but your Vibrant Yellow banana tastes better than their shelf-friendlier cousin.

It’s the age-old dilemma of appearance versus reality.  Things look one way but are something altogether different than they appear.  It’s such a common motif that it often makes up the center of dramatic plotlines.  Shakespeare draws heavily on this theme in his plays.  In one, Measure for Measure, the Duke of Vienna leaves town only to return in disguise as an old man so he can observe his subjects in his apparent absence.  Lo and behold, what should he observe while disguised but his upright and prim deputy, the one he left in charge of Vienna in his absence, behaving very inappropriately.  Here, this strait-laced appearing man turned out to be quite the crooked arrow.

It happens so often in our real lives as well.  One time, back when I was selling cars at 18, two customers appeared on our lot at the exact same time.  Now one of these customers was a married couple driving a late model sedan.  The other customer was a man who pulled into the lot in what resembled a 1970’s era pickup truck.  Not only that, he looked scruffy, he had on worn out jeans, even had on a bandana.  My colleague gave me the choice – which one did I want to work with?

I made a straight line to the affluent-looking couple.  I went up to them, gave them my best “how’re you doing, what can I show you today.”  Their reply.  “We’re just here to pick up a friend of ours.”  My colleague who walked over to the scruffy looking man wearing the bandana?  He sold that man two cars that day.  One for him, one for his wife.  And guess what?  The man paid cash.

I think we’ve all probably got a story like that rumbling around in our heads somewhere.  Sometime when the initial appearance of a thing was wholly opposite of what it actually was.

In this morning’s New Testament reading from the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus Christ tells a parable to the chief priests and scribes.  Lying at its core is the disconnect that sometimes lies between appearance versus reality.  Now keep in mind, by the time Jesus tells this parable, He’s already made a splash in Jerusalem.  He’s entered into the city with a chanting crowd of followers.  He’s overturned the tables of the moneychangers in the Temple.  Jesus cursed a fig tree for failing to bear fruit, a powerful image of indictment against the religious folks of the day.  In all He’s done since arriving in Jerusalem, Jesus called into question the practices of the quote-unquote religious people of the time.

Now, the chief priests and the elders need some answers.  You see, they’re the quote-unquote religious experts.  And so they need to know on whose behalf someone would behave so outlandishly.  Make no mistake about it, they’re hoping to be handing Jesus the rope with which He’ll hang Himself.  So, they ask Jesus, on whose authority do you do these things?   Jesus, however, does something that only Jesus can do in good conscience.  He answers a question with a question.  “Did the baptism of John come from heaven, or was it of human origin?”

The query is weighted with significance.  If John was a prophet of God, then there would be no reason why these chief priests and elders hadn’t repented of their sins and changed their actions.  And if John truly was a prophet, why weren’t they doing what he asked of them?  So, they can’t answer Jesus saying John’s baptism was from heaven.

On the other hand, if the chief priests and elders thought John the Baptist was merely a quack, they really couldn’t say that either.  In doing that, they’d offend the crowds surrounding them who were vocally supportive of Jesus.  It’d be like being a New York Giants fan pulling boisterously for their team at Philadelphia Eagles stadium.  So, they can’t answer human origin.

In a way it’s kind of like being asked the question “Have you stopped watching Desperate Housewives yet?”  Merely answering the question divulges more info than you’d most likely want to reveal.  So, the chief priests and elders refuse to answer.  It’s here when Jesus tells them a parable.