Matthew’s Puzzling Conversion
Psalm 50 or 50:7-15, Hosea 5:15-6:6, Romans 4:13-18, Matthew 9:9-13
Last Sunday, I had occasion to mention the California coastal city named Laguna Beach. I mentioned Laguna Beach as an example of Jesus’ parable at the end of the sermon on the Mount, the part about the man who built his house upon the sand, and the storm came and blew against that house, and great was the fall thereof. Over the years, Laguna Beach has afforded many examples of this very thing – someone building their house on bluffs of clay and sand that line the California coast at that point. And, if you were watching the news this past week, you saw that another crop of foolish men have continued to build their multi-million dollar houses on those bluffs.
Well, within twelve hours of delivering you that homily last week, there was yet another landslide in Laguna Beach. Over a dozen homes were destroyed, several of them valued in the millions of dollars. Another two dozen or so homes were evacuated, because they were in danger of sliding into Bluebird Canyon.
There is a place on the Internet called Darwin Awards dot com, which lists the verified tales of people who do the most outrageously stupid things. All of them are verifiable lost causes, it would seem. And, now the people who built those houses on the sand are prime candidates for new entries for the Darwin Award of 2005.
There is another lost cause in today’s gospel lesson, but it has a dramatically different sort of outcome. It is, at first glance, something of a puzzle. Just prior to what we read in today’s gospel, Jesus had healed a bed-ridden cripple and had forgiven his sins. This, of course, promptly created a stir. Among the people, it was a stir of joy and hope. Here was one who could forgive sins and heal sickness; and in the popular estimation of things, the two always went hand in hand. If you were a notorious sinner, something evil befell you – some disease or accident. But, if you were forgiven your sins, the malady would go away too. So, the people were overjoyed at what Jesus did.
The Scribes, however, were scandalized. They judged Jesus to be blasphemous to forgive sins.
Now as he was passing on from this episode, Jesus passed by the stand of Matthew the tax collector. Mostly likely, Matthew’s office was along the route that traders would take, and he collected various sorts of tariffs and taxes from them. Jesus sees him and simply says to him, “Follow me.”
Here’s the puzzle: the gospel text – which by the way is composed by the same man, Matthew – simply says that Matthew rose up and followed him. No explanation is given at all. You might wonder if Matthew left something out.
If Matthew’s gospel were something like the let-it-all-hang-out first person accounts you find on newsstands, or bookstores, or on shows like Oprah or Jerry Springer, you would have at this point a long, tedious, and shameless baring of the soul, to explain how it was that Matthew got up and followed Jesus. But, no – even though this part of Matthew’s gospel is autobiographical, he simply relates that he got up and followed Jesus.
If we check the parallel account in Mark 2 and Luke 5 we find the same thing – perhaps an extra detail or two – but otherwise, it’s the same thing. Jesus says “Follow me” and Matthew gets up and follows Jesus. I think we have to take this at face value – with no hesitation by Matthew, he makes no requests for an explanations, he offers Jesus no excuses for remaining where he is, he tries no negotiating of any kind. Matthew just plucks himself up and follows Jesus. What’s going on here?
Well, we might explain this the way Hollywood moviemakers would probably explain it – with a kind of ethereal, spooky, Jesus, with wide, staring blue eyes and a blank face who INTONES “F-o-l-l-o-w M-e-e-e-e” And then the camera would cut to Matthew who would have a look on his face kind of like the pod people in the film Night of the Living Dead, and he would kind of stagger after Jesus like he was under some sort of spell.
I don’t think that’s what happened either. The clue to Matthew’s immediate response are right there in the gospel we heard read. It turns on three things.
First of all, there is Matthew himself. He’s a tax collector. And in that setting, a tax collector is first class creep. The Romans were no dummies about taxes. When they conquered a people like the Jews, they found the petty Mafiosi types among the citizenry and made them the tax collectors. The would assign a certain amount of money which the tax collector would owe to the Roman authorities. And, any amounts beyond that which the tax collector could squeeze out of the taxpayers, the tax collector got to keep. And, if the taxpayer didn’t pay up, all Matthew had to do was report him to the Roman magistrate, and it was off with his head and then a confiscation of the dead taxpayer’s estate.
It’s not wonder, then, that tax collectors were the chief traitors of the Jewish people. From Mark’s and Luke’s account, we learn that Matthew was also known as Levi son of Alpheus. This name marks him as a member of the tribe of Levi. The Levites were the priestly tribe, the tribe chosen by God out of all the tribes to be His special servants. This, then, would have compounded Matthew’s reputation for treason and avarice.
Now, none of this was lost on Matthew. In modern terms, we’d say his self-esteem was probably at a pretty low ebb. No one was giving him any strokes, he don’t get no respect, as Rodney Dangerfield would say. Everyone scorns him, despises him, and hates him. And, I think that after a time, the fine living which Matthew was able to make at tax collecting began to sour in his mouth. What was he going to do? How could he extricate himself from this? He had dug a very, very deep hole for himself, and there was no way out. I imagine he felt himself to be a lost cause, like one of those big fine houses sliding down the muddy hills of Laguna Beach. There is no way left to go but to slide further and further down the hill.
And, then Jesus walks by and says “Follow me.”
There is was – the way out. Here, then, is the second piece to the Matthew puzzle: Matthew had to know quite a bit about Jesus. Jesus was creating a huge stir, remember. And, Matthew, as the tax collector, had a bird’s eye view of the Big News in Israel. All the merchants passed by his tax office, and none of them were going to hide information from the tax collector. If Matthew had been asking anything about Jesus, he likely got an earful. It is entirely possible that he already had heard about Jesus forgiving the sins of the paralytic and healing him. And, then this Jesus comes walking through the town, passes by Matthew’s tax-office, and Jesus sees him. “Follow me,” he says.
I’ve looked at number of different commentators on this passage, and almost every one of them mentions the contrast between Matthew’s response here and the response of the rich young ruler. Both that ruler and Matthew were rich. But, when Jesus asked the ruler to give all his wealth to the poor, he went away despondent, for there was no way he was going to give up his wealth. Clearly Matthew does NOT have that problem. He, too, would be wealthy, but unlike the rich young ruler, Matthew was – at least at this moment – not attached to the wealth. It held no promise for him. If wealth could have bought happiness, Matthew would have had it. He didn’t. And, so he gets up – and in Luke’s phrase – “he left everything, rose up, and followed him.”
The third clue to Matthew’s immediate response is contained in the feast mentioned next. It was a feast which Matthew gave in his own house, for Jesus. Matthew reports that “many tax collectors and sinners came and sat down with Him and His disciples.” Mark reports that “many tax collectors and sinners” were there, and Luke says “there were a GREAT NUMBER of tax collectors and others who sat down with them.” You see, it was enough for Luke to say there were tax collectors there. He doesn’t even have to specify that the others are considered great sinners, for that’s the only kind of people who would consort with tax collectors!
And that’s why the Pharisees ask those wheedling questions of the disciples. “Why does your Teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?" Of course, they don’t really want information or an explanation. The point is to cast aspersions on Jesus’ character – he’s the kind of fellow who goes to dinner with that sort of people.
It’s interesting to me that these are the only guests whom Matthew gets to come to his house. On one hand, it is a testimony to the kind of society which Matthew inhabited. He has no respectable friends. They’re all rotters, just like him. But, he gets them to come, and he invites them to meet Jesus, because Jesus has said to him, “Follow me.”
Jesus overhears the Pharisees slandering him and says, "Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. 13But go and learn what this means: "I desire mercy and not sacrifice.’ For I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners, to repentance."
This, then, is the final clue to Matthew’s immediate response to Jesus. Whether or not Matthew had been meditating on the Old Testament lesson for today, it provides the last clue to Matthew’s response. Here was Jesus, doing what the Prophet Hosea had spoken centuries before – calling Israel to repentance.
Come, and let us return to the LORD; For He has torn, but He will heal us; He has stricken, but He will bind us up.
2After two days He will revive us; On the third day He will raise us up, That we may live in His sight. 3Let us know, Let us pursue the knowledge of the LORD. His going forth is established as the morning;
He will come to us like the rain, Like the latter and former rain to the earth.
Did anyone know better than Matthew how fallen Israel was? He was, after all, the petty tool of a domineering and cruel Gentile power. He served Israel’s oppressor and he was hated by all Israel for doing so. If anyone in Israel might harbor secret longings for the coming of the Messiah, it would be someone like Matthew, not only under the thumb of a cruel oppressor, but sharing in the oppression. As a Levite, he might have well have grown up on the messianic prophecies of the Old Testament, and when Jesus passed by, he jumped at the chance to flee the twisted life he was leading.
Now, as for us today, reading this, there are two ways it guides us. We can, for example, compare ourselves to Matthew and follow the example he gives us. We can maintain a true estimation of ourselves, that we – just like Matthew, just like those pathetic homeowners in Laguna Beach – we too, in the final analysis, are losers, except for one thing – a savior who calls to us, “Follow me.”
Jesus doesn’t call us to like he called to Matthew. He won’t walk past the parish hall later today. Instead, he calls to us every time you hear the Word of God, or every time you enter this sanctuary to offer Him worship. He calls to us in the Eucharist – come here, remember what I did for you, nourish yourselves on me, eat this bread – this is my body given for you, drink this cup – it is my blood shed for the remission of your sins. No excuses, no negotiating, no soliciting explanations – “Follow me.”
We can be like Matthew in another way – inviting those need Jesus as much as you and I need him, inviting them to come to him, as Matthew invited his fellow tax collectors and sundry others of sordid social standing.
And, what if we don’t know those sorts of people? Well, then, instead of mimicking Matthew, let’s mimic Jesus. Let’s not be afraid to be seen with the losers of society, the people of questionable values and morals. Jesus said that he came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance, and it’s pretty hard to do that if you never come across someone who’s a sinner!
[hat tip to Martin Dale for the following] You all will probably remember a great scandal in the Church about a decade or so ago, when Jim Baaker was convicted of fraud and sentences to 45 years in prison. After he had been in the lockup about six months, he got a visit from Billy Graham. Baaker asked him why he had come. Baaker certainly knew how Christian reputations could be sullied by the wrong sorts of connections. Graham replied that Baaker was his friend, and that now that things were going so badly for Baaker, Graham would stand by him in his troubles.
Baaker’s sentence was eventually reduced, on appeal, to ten years and when he came out of prison on parole, he had nowhere to stay. So the Grahams invited him to stay with them. And, on the Sunday following Baaker’s release, Ruth Graham took him to church with her. Disregarding what people would think about her, she stood up in church and introduced Jim Baaker to the congregation as her friend Jim Baaker.
Billy and Ruth Graham were mimicking Christ in all this, showing the kindness that Jesus showed to tax collectors like Matthew when he called Matthew to follow him, and when he sat down with Matthews disreputable friends.
This morning as we survey ourselves, may God grant us to turn loose of anything dear and precious in this world, the sins which so easily beset us, the privileges and praises of this world which are actually cruel and powerful chains. When Jesus calls us to follow him, may be find grace to do as Matthew did, to leave behind those lovely, lovely chains, to rise up, and to follow him.
And, when we find such grace to do so, may we also remember those still in chains, and mimic Matthew in another way – to call them to come to Jesus even as we have done so.
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.
