June 11, 2023

Pentecost 2
Lectionary 10

Epiphany, Winnipeg

Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26

Jesus calls Matthew to get up and to follow him. So Matthew gets up and walks along to see what all this might mean. Let’s back up and walk through the story too, let’s follow along and see what happens. Maybe stop to pause for a minute or two along the way.

So…Jesus is just out walking. It’s been a crazy day and if you follow the flow of the story leading up to this you’ll see that he’s preached the longest sermon ever – the sermon on the mount – crossed a lake a couple of times, healed a handful of people, talked to crowds and tried hard to avoid crowds. He doesn’t really seem to have a plan; he just starts the day walking and plows through a day’s worth of distractions and interruptions.

So he’s walking along and he notices someone over there sitting at a table. He’s a tax collector named Matthew, and people are coming to the table to pay their taxes. Some of the taxes go to the local authorities, some of them go on to Rome to fund that army that occupies Jesus’ homeland, and some of the money probably ends in Matthew’s pocket as well. Maybe he’s collecting taxes to make a fast buck, or maybe he does that work because it’s the only way he can squeeze out a living from life. Jesus doesn’t seem to have a plan in place – it wasn’t in his calendar that day to track down Matthew. He just walked by, and noticed, and said, “Hey Matthew, come and follow me. You don’t need to collect money for Rome any more; Follow me.” And Matthew gets up from his desk and leaves the ledger book (and the empire?) behind and starts walking. Maybe you are Matthew the tax collector. You’re minding your business at whatever you’re doing today. An honest day’s work, a dishonest day’s work? Work you’re proud of, or work you’re ashamed of or work you just need to do because you’ve got to do something to make ends meet? Maybe you’re doing no work at all because there’s just no work for you these days. And Jesus sees you there and interrupts what you’re doing and he calls to you – yes, you. And Jesus calls you, and calls any of us, not because we’ve shown Jesus we’re good enough, or because we’ve got the right credentials or act religious enough. Jesus calls you, calls any of us, because the you Jesus wants to call along is the you that you are, now. And you get up and go, and somehow this following seems like the right thing, even if you have no idea where you’re going. How much do any of us really know about what will happen next, right? But you follow. You get up and walk.

Do you ever wonder if Jesus is calling you away from the usual way of doing things?

Soon after that Jesus is sitting at a table in the house and he’s eating with his disciples. Some of them are tax collectors like Matthew – and nobody likes tax collectors - and sinners, like Matthew, and there are more tax collectors and sinners than those twelve. Apparently Jesus doesn’t mind hanging around with tax collectors and sinners, and he’s not too worried about what anyone else might think. So when a faithful and knowledgeable someone questions Jesus’ choice of table mates – why do eat with those people? - Jesus just says, "The strong ones don't need anything. But the ones having all the bad luck, or the bad habits, or the ill breeding or unprivileged birth, the ones who you might even call sinners….these are the ones who need something. They’re the ones I came to call, they’re the ones I break bread with (and maybe Jesus might even add that those kind of people are probably a lot more fun at a dinner party too).

Maybe you are the one who’s been called a sinner one or fifteen or a thousand too many times. Others have called you that or it’s just been your own voice in your own head. You might have arrived at the table wondering whether anybody, let alone Jesus, would ever want to eat with you. I’ve been in that place: what if they really knew me? Like, really knew me? But now you’re at the table with Jesus, who seems quite happy to sit down at a meal with you. Maybe he even passed you the bread and filled your glass again and he’s made it clear that he’s glad to be with you. You find that following Jesus sometimes means you end up sitting down with this one who eats with you, who stays right there at the table, when maybe you thought no one would. Then you look around at the table and see that there are a lot more of you misfits gathered together with Jesus than you thought. Look around – you know what I mean. We’ve all got stuff going on inside, or maybe outside, plain for all to see. And Jesus sits at the table with us. Because he wants to. It’s why he’s here: Tax collectors and sinners.

Do you ever wonder whether you might as well just stop worrying about whether you’re good enough and just enjoy the meal?

So the conversations with the Pharisees continue (and remember, Pharisees aren’t bad. They are….meticulous). They’re all really getting into the conversation, and while Jesus is holding forth one of the leaders in the community, one of those strong ones who Jesus just said have no need of him, walks in and interrupts Jesus, and he gives Jesus an order, because that’s what leaders do: “My daughter has died. Come and make her alive.” So Jesus…gets up and follows him. Jesus said, “Matthew, follow me,” and Matthew followed. A leader in the community tells Jesus to heal his daughter, and Jesus stops what he’s doing and follows this powerful man to the place of his own broken heart, to the place of his own grief, to the place of his own “I thought I was strong but now I’m powerless to turn around what’s happened to my daughter.” So he interrupts Jesus and gives orders, and he leads Jesus to that place.

Is that you? Or me? You’re at your wits’ end and your heart breaks and you don’t know what else to do so you just interrupt Jesus while he is in the middle of something else. You say “My loved one died,” or you say, “The world is burning up,” or you say, “Look, there’s so much hate,” you call out for yourself or for someone else, like a leader pleading on his child’s behalf… And Jesus drops what he’s doing, listens to you, and follows you to the place of your deepest need or the world’s deepest need. He doesn’t say, “Well that was rude.” He listens and follows along to where we and the world are most in need.

Do you ever want to give Jesus an order? Just say, “Look, you’ve got to do something!” It’s OK to do that, you know…

The interruptions continue. While Jesus follows this ruler to the place of his daughter’s death another woman sneaks up behind him. She comes up quietly behind Jesus, because surely you don’t interrupt Jesus when he’s in the middle of important business with a man they call a leader, right? But still, she takes matters into her own hands and she touches Jesus’ coat. Maybe that’s the only option she has left because no other prescription or potion or doctor or prayer has worked to stop this bleeding that she’s suffered from for twelve years. So she sneaks up and touches the fringe of his garment, and he turns around and says, “Daughter, be brave. Your faith, your trust, has made you well.” And with that word she is made well again.

Maybe it’s like that sometimes when we follow Jesus. You’ve run out of options and tried everything for the healing of your body or your mind or your spirit…or your body, let’s face it. So you sneak up to Jesus and touch his hem – sort of maybe getting his attention but not wanting to at the same time, maybe being sure that he won’t even give you the time of day because he’s probably got more important things to do. But you step up anyway and make the touch; you take a chance, because after all what have you got to lose? And Jesus turns and says, “You trusted, daughter. You’re made well.”

The reading ends soon but Jesus’ day goes on. He’s still got one or two more distractions and interruptions coming along. I don’t think that Jesus starts out the day with an particular plan. He just starts walking, and all through the day he just rolls with the interruptions and distractions. He has time for Matthew at the tax table, for tax collectors and sinners breaking bread and for Pharisees breaking bread and asking their questions. He’s got time for a powerful man’s demands, and for a strong woman’s touch, and for a child who needs her life back again. He’s got time…all the time in the world…for you, for me, for us.

It’s a story for us as a church too, you know. Jesus calls Matthew to leave behind the usual way of doing things, and we never hear about Matthew returning to the tax collector’s table. Maybe Jesus is calling us in the same way too. Saying to us, “Church, come and follow me,” and that will mean leaving what we’ve thought of as normal and following Jesus to a way of being church that we’ve never thought of before. Today we don’t just read about Jesus calling someone else to follow; we hear Jesus as he walks along and says, “Hey, follow me,” and even we, the church, are called to leave what we’ve known for something new.

And along the way, wherever it is that we follow, we make space at the table for anyone whom the world calls tax collectors and sinners, just as space has been made for us tax collectors and sinners. We open up to hear the cries of anyone who says “My loved one has died, my people are suffering, there’s nowhere to live," and we follow Jesus to places where healing and life are needed. And we make room and we learn from the ones who seem weak but have the gumption to seek out Jesus and say “If we just touch his robe all will be well.”

And maybe, in a weird way, we learn much from the ruler’s daughter, the reason Jesus set off that way in the first place. She is lying still, dead or in the grip of who-knows-what. They’ve brought in the professional mourners and pushed “play” on Abide with Me, but Jesus comes and takes her by the hand and puts her back on her feet. This time following means having nothing, nothing, and your life is given back.

However it is that we follow Jesus, we come with one thing: nothing. No credentials or proven records or power, no politeness or piety to prove ourselves worthy. We just come with nothing…Trusting this one who calls us to follow. Trusting the risen one who gives us life. AMEN