Tag Archives: Matthew

Advent 23: Hungry and rich

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Levi had a pretty good job, at least financially. He collected taxes.

When you have the Roman army backing you up, you can make a comfortable living collecting taxes. You don’t have many friends, other than tax collectors and other people who have money but are socially unacceptable. But there is, I’m guessing, a sense of community among the outcasts.

One day Levi is sitting at his desk and Jesus walks by and says, “follow me.” An odd statement this is. It’s clear enough, this two word invitation, but out of the blue, it doesn’t seem to fit.

Except to Levi.

He gets up and follows Jesus. And then he throws a party. It may have been a going out of business party. It may have been a “here’s the man who gave me meaning” party. It may have been one of Levi’s great parties.

Whatever the theme, the honored guest was Jesus, and lots of people came. The outcasts sat inside. The religious leaders stood outside, scolding. But Jesus wasn’t at all confused about where he wanted to be. For him, sitting with people who were rich financially and hungry for meaning was exactly where he wanted to be.

It was far more fun than standing with people who were already so stuffed with meaning that they couldn’t hear the voice that counted.

(From Luke 5:27-39)

follow me.

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Matthew could have made it complicated. Matthew could have made it clear.

Matthew is telling the story of his own decision to follow Jesus. He could have provided lots of background about what his life had been like, what his business practices were. He could have provided us with pictures of his heart, his soul, his motivation. He could have really helped us understand.

But he didn’t.

As Jesus went on from there, he saw a man named Matthew sitting at the tax collector’s booth. “Follow me,” he told him, and Matthew got up and followed him. (Matthew 9:9)

Jesus saw Matthew. Jesus invited Matthew. Matthew followed.

I’m sure Matthew knew about Jesus. I’m sure  Matthew had heard stories. He may even have had conversations.

I also know, however, that some people just decide things. They quickly count up the costs and benefits. They weigh the choices efficiently. Matthew, after all, was a tax collector. He was familiar with assessments. And he makes his description of this assessment efficient.

And then he has a party. He invites his old friends and his new friends. He doesn’t know any better. They don’t know any better.

Only the pharisees know better.

“Jesus,” they said. “you aren’t supposed to be eating in places like this. You aren’t supposed to be eating with people like this. It’s ruining your reputation. It’s damaging any hope you have of being rabbi of the year.”

Jesus shrugs. There isn’t much he can do. He tries to explain that a doctor who never sees patients, who never spends any time with sick people, who never touches burns and cuts and blood and pain, isn’t much of a doctor at all. Somehow, I think, they miss the point.

Although, I wonder.

Did they wish they could laugh with Jesus, too?

Descriptive

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[Matthew 3:4-5]

We want to know what to do.

Some of us, anyway, when we become part of a group or we have a new identity or we are starting fresh, we want to know what to do. We want to know what the rules are, what it takes to fit in, to measure up.

And then we look for examples.

And some of us find John (the baptizing one).

He’s dressed in a garment woven from camel’s hair with a leather belt. He eats locusts. He eats wild honey.

And we think that we need to.

I mean, he’s the spiritual one, right? He’s the prophetic one. If we are prophetic, if we are to speak out the truth, we should live on the fringe. We should wear burlap and eat oddly.

But he didn’t wear burlap. (It would have been more like wool.) And he may well have been the only one of Jesus followers to eat bugs. The disciples will be found eating wheat and fish and bread and wine and other normal (for the time) food.

We want to copy outsides because that is so easy to do. But what made John distinctive wasn’t what what on the outside. In fact, part of why he wore what he wore is that he didn’t care so much about the outside. He wore what was available and durable.

There is much in Matthew that is descriptive: “This is what John did.” We want to make it prescriptive: “This is what I should do.” All the while, as we copy those things, we may miss what truly is prescriptive: “So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’”

It is, after all, much easier to worry…than to follow.

Do something.

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(Matthew 3: 1-4)

The first word that John (the baptizer) says, as recorded by Matthew anyway, is ‘repent.’

I’m guessing that it wasn’t the first word he ever spoke, mind you. John was fully human. He would have done and said everything that a child says and does. But John grew up knowing that he was fulfillment of a prediction.

When we listen to Luke tell the story, we find

  • that John’s dad was in the temple,
  • that he was doing spiritual work,
  • that an angel told John’s dad that John would be great in the eyes of everyone,
  • that John would be like Elijah
  • and that because dad wanted evidence that he could believe the angel, the angel shut his mouth til John was born.

John knew that he had a calling and that arguing with angels has consequences.

When we think of repent, we think of guys with beards saying “repent, the end is near.” John’s message feels very different: “repent, the kingdom of heaven is near.” In the former case, repenting feels like judgment avoidance. In the latter, repenting feels like preparation, like getting ready for something wonderful.

The image of repenting is the image of turning around, of an about face. In the mouth of John, it means that we are going the wrong direction and if we turn around, we are heading toward the kingdom.

And the king.

John is saying, “You know the way you are trying to do things? The way that is so frustrating and confusing and painful? The way that is so twisting? How’s that working? You could turn around, you know. You could open up to the king. He’s near. “

People came to listen. People came to watch. Some saw no need to turn around and turned away.

Others?

They turned around.

more urgent

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I heard this today:

“Forming people in Christ as a slow work, so it can’t be hurried;
it is an urgent work, so it can’t be delayed.”

Eugene Peterson said it. He’s the pastor and teacher who “wrote” The Message. It’s a paraphrase, taking the Bible and telling it in contemporary language and images. I find it helpful because it gives a different flavor to the text.

Peterson understands something about slow and urgent work. That’s what paraphrasing the whole Bible takes. Some of us struggle with just reading it all. He read it. He reread it. He looked at multiple translations. He looked at Greek and Hebrew texts. He drafted and revised and prayed and listened and wrote and finished.

He had to start. He couldn’t rush.

Between Matthew 2:23 and 3:1 there is nothing. This is 25 years of Jesus’ life and we know nothing. Years of being a teenager. Years of carpentry. Years of learning and teaching, questioning and answering.

We would love to know what happened, but Matthew gives us nothing.

Growth takes time. It happens outside the spotlight. It is measured in years and decades. We want feedback all the time. We want to know that we are getting close. We want to know that we are making progress. We want all the details.

When we don’t see progress, we think that that maybe this, whatever the learning and living task is,  doesn’t matter after all. We don’t start or we give up.

Following Jesus is a commitment of a life and a commitment to a life. Some of that life will be in the spotlight, with cool miracles. Some will be in the spotlight with opportunities for martyrdom. Most of it, however, years and decades, may be in slow quiet shaping.

But don’t think it isn’t urgent.