Centered on the Margin (part 1)

Sermon by Rev. Mary Alice Mulligan, Ph.D.

Scripture: Matthew 9:9-13

The lectionary committee asks us to hear three stories today from the 9th chapter of the Gospel of Matthew. Although all three are about salvation and each invites us to shift our focus from the movers and shakers of the power center to the practically invisible marginalized riff-raff, since this is such a packed passage, I want us to look at it for two weeks. Today we will take a peek at the first part (just verses 9-13), letting our imaginations run with how the calling of Matthew may have played out. Jesus is calling together his community of followers – but not from the power center; rather from the marginalized social misfits and unclean rejects. As familiar as such stories are, most of us still have trouble imagining Jesus’ spending most days in society’s margins. Actually even “margin” is too nice a word. Think of the areas where people sleep on the streets, covered with ratty, discarded jackets, where the walls smell of urine – that’s where Jesus would be sharing a hotdog with someone he just met. For first century Jews, although homeless people should be avoided, they would be more acceptable than tax collectors. Now read from the 9th chapter of the Gospel of Matthew.

Matthew 9:9-13

As Jesus was walking along, he saw a man called Matthew sitting at the tax booth; and he said to him, “Follow me.” And he got up and followed him. And as he sat at dinner in the house, many tax collectors and sinners came and were sitting with him and his disciples. When the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” But when he heard this, he said, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.”

Think of Matthew. He is a low life, a tax collector. Can’t you just see him – sitting at his table, collecting money from fellow Jews to pay off the ruling government? All he has to do is give Herod a cut, then he can skim off a hefty portion for himself. The more he charges, the richer he grows. And every Jewish person in the Roman Empire knows immediately, he is the worst kind of sinner, sitting at the tax table, pulling in mounds of cash from his fellows Jews. So, why would Jesus bother to stop there? Onlookers might hope he is going to drive Matthew out of the tax office with a whip. Matthew is not some “heart of gold” Rahab, forced into this occupation by circumstances of life. He is a tax collector, who paid a high price to get his job, collaborating with the Empire in oppressing his own people. Hear this. Matthew is a bad man, corrupt through and through, selling out his Jewish brothers and sisters for riches and power. Yet Jesus stops there. But he doesn’t drive him out; Jesus calls him to join him, abandon the tax table, the sweetest little job there is. “Follow me, Matthew.” One of society’s worst receiving an invitation into the inner circle. Shocking. But just like that, Matthew follows.

Probably Matthew has heard of Jesus. Maybe he even tore himself away from the tax office to hear Jesus preach on the hillside that day. But probably not. He wouldn’t miss a whole day’s income. The one thing we can see is that on this day Jesus calls Matthew, and Matthew obeys. Something about Jesus, is irresistible. Something about him is worth giving up a very profitable profession. Matthew senses Jesus offers something better than money. So he follows.

Probably you have experienced a life changing event sometime. And what do you do next? Celebrate with food! Right? Get a new job – go out to dinner. After the wedding – throw a reception. Baptize a new family member – big Sunday dinner. Even after a funeral, families gather for a meal in the church fellowship hall. Somehow eating together makes the change real. So no wonder, Matthew invites Jesus to his house for supper. And you can imagine it was Jesus who suggests making it a party. “Call up all your friends, Matthew. Tell them to come celebrate your new life.” Jesus is almost always ready for a party. Matthew has given up the tax table to follow the famous rabbi of Nazareth. It’s time to celebrate!

However, Matthew would have hesitated at the suggestion. Why? It can’t be that he can’t afford a party. He certainly has enough money tucked away from his time skimming off from the government’s revenue. And it can’t be that he doesn’t have a big enough place. Tax collectors have the biggest houses in town. So, the problem must be Matthew’s friends. Doesn’t Jesus know that any friends Matthew has would be morally reprehensible too? No self-respecting Jew would befriend Matthew, so you can bet, all his drinking buddies are religiously unclean, untouchable characters of the slimiest kind: shysters, thieves, fugitives, other tax collectors. Even Matthew knows they are absolutely not the people a famous rabbi would want to party and break bread with. Can’t you imagine Matthew’s discomfort? He’d be ashamed. “Teacher, maybe we could just celebrate with your friends.”

But you know, when Jesus throws a party, who’s invited? Everyone! And, although the festivities are at Matthew’s house, Jesus quickly becomes the host. It wouldn’t take long before the odor of sweet pastries baking, filled with poppyseed and apricots, is floating over the neighborhood, so Matthew’s cronies begin to drop by. They can smell not just pastries, but a party forming. “What's going on? A party? Mind if I join?”

You know the first ones to arrive; the ones who never turn down a free drink. But then, more people wander in. All of Matthew’s cronies. But then others, until the whole house is full of food, drink, people, and so much laughter. Everyone Matthew knows, and maybe a whole bunch who never thought they’d consider entering such a sinner’s house. And what’s a party without music? Four or five people pull out instruments and everyone seems to have brought a bottle of wine. Many of those who live as outcasts every day (including Matthew) probably feel like they’ve died and gone to heaven. No worries. No condemnation. And at the heart of the festivities is the Nazarene rabbi, completely relaxed at the head of the table, toasting the riff-raff, and loving it. A houseful of sinners, laughing at the party table, welcomed by their host.

However, out on the veranda, in the shadow of the lattice work, a voice wants to know what’s going on. “Psst, Peter.” It’s a Pharisee, one of the big religious leaders. “Peter if your teacher is truly a prophet, why does he contaminate himself with all these who are grossly unclean?” Peter has no answer at first. Why would a prophet, a holy man, keep welcoming the untouchable and pulling up a chair with God-only-knows what kind of sinner? Good question.

So, Jesus decides to come out to the shadow conversation. After all, he came for all the imperfect people, including his brother Pharisee, who is meticulously trying to follow every religious rule, eager to please God in all his actions. Of course, he wonders why Jesus allows himself to be made ceremonially unclean, day after day. First Jesus touches sick people, then women, and now all these disgusting, unrepentant sinners. How can Jesus be a prophet if he can’t even figure out whose company to avoid? So Jesus explains: “I came for them. The sick need a physician, not the healthy. Get it? They don’t make me sick; I make them well. They don’t make me unclean, I purify them. Get it?”

But the Pharisee would have more questions. “When I am spiritually sick, when I sin, I go to the Temple,” he explains. “I make sacrifices; I lay out my petition before God, and promise to be more careful in keeping the law next time. I certainly don’t carouse with a prophet when I sin. How does carousing make someone well?”

So Jesus explains further: “Scripture reports God’s saying through the prophet Hosea, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ Get it now? God likes mercy, and shows it to those who need it most. The God of mercy comes to sinners. And when sinners let God in, it’s a party.”

All the Pharisee has to do is look at the banquet going on inside. The noise. The laughter. The table spread with more and more food. Sinners deliriously happy, at the banquet table of Jesus. Look at them, sharing a joyous story or some joke. It sounds like a great weight has been lifted from each of them. And there is Matthew, running back and forth, filling platters, passing out food, and laughing, as innocent as the day he was born. If this prophet Jesus has taken away their guilt, he must be the Messiah, the Son of God, who desires mercy, not sacrifice. The Word Incarnate sets people free from eternal vigilance and the constant pressure from failing to be perfect. No wonder they are celebrating. Joyous sin-free sinners, reveling in the banquet at Jesus’ table.

Jesus has a final message for the Pharisee before going back inside. Can’t you imagine Jesus saying, “Relax in God’s mercy, friend. There’s a chair at my table for you, too. Come join the party.”