Matthew 9:9-13 · The Calling of Matthew
No Telltale Clues
Matthew 9:9-13
Sermon
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At times the author of Matthew's Gospel startles us by the small amount of information he offers. Just when we would like to know what it is that is going on, he is silent. Just when we most feel the need of a telltale clue, he tells us nothing. Jesus stands before the stranger called Matthew and says, "Follow me." Matthew accepts the invitation without question or hesitation. All that the evangelist offers us is the fact that "he rose and followed him." You and I would like to know why. What in the world happened that would cause this man to leave his lucrative administrative post? Why would Matthew throw away the security that he had finally achieved? What would cause this collector of taxes to shut the door on a sure thing in order to follow the man called Jesus into who knows where, for how long, and at what cost?

Surely, we speculate, Jesus and Matthew must have met before. They must have been introduced by a mutual friend and must have felt an immediate attraction. Or surely, we guess, Matthew must have been sick of his job. He probably felt that he was rotting away in a place of no advancement. For too long he had quenched the spirit of adventure. Now he had a chance for something new and exciting and he might as well make his move. Or surely, we imagine, Matthew must have been a man in need. He must have been emotionally hungry, or in desperate need of intellectual stimulation or moral challenge. Following Jesus probably held more promise than anything that had come Matthew's way in a long time.

We can all make our guesses as to why Matthew rose and followed him, but we will never know for certain. And if the writer of the Gospel knows, he is not going to tell us. Not a single reason

is given for Matthew's unhesitating response. Jesus offers no special encouragements. He makes no promises; in fact, he does not even give Matthew a job description. He does not seem astonished at Matthew's acceptance, nor does he express any gratitude. There is no record of a prayer of thanksgiving, or even of a handshake. According to the stark and startling record, Jesus simply says, "Follow me," and Matthew does.

There is a motive, I think, behind the evangelist's silence. By not giving us a single clue, he is attempting to keep our minds on Jesus rather than on Matthew. If we are to puzzle about anything, the evangelist wants it to be about Jesus' authority, not about Matthew's response. We are free to speculate about the one who answers the call and follows. The evangelist, however, does not want us to settle there. Our focus is to be on the one who calls rather than on the one who answers.

Our attention is to be given to the one who says, "Follow me."

The writer of Matthew's Gospel clearly sees Jesus as the Son of God. He understands Jesus to be the only true teacher, the only one who has absolute, direct and unaccountable authority. It is Jesus who has the right to call and who has the right to demand. It may seem harsh to put it this way, but the evangelist is not concerned with what motivated Matthew, nor with what the tax collector was thinking, nor with why he took the first step away from the tax office. It is not Matthew that is important at the moment. The spotlight is on Jesus and the evangelist wants us to understand something about him. When Jesus tells someone to move from here to there, the evangelist says that he is to do it. When Jesus tells a person to burn her bridges behind her, the evangelist says that she is to do it. When Jesus invites you or me to follow, the evangelist says, "You do it." Jesus has the right to call people to follow him. The only appropriate response is obedience. It is this the evangelist wants us to see.

The text startles us once again when we realize that Matthew was not what could be called a model recipient of Jesus' invitation. The man to whom Jesus gave his authoritative command was not exactly an ideal applicant. Matthew was one of the publicans and sinners that the text talks about. He was the sort of person that neither Jesus nor any good person should have anything to do with. One need not be overly pious to understand why. According to some accounts, Matthew was a type of person that was regularly excommunicated from synagogues as a traitor and renegade. Such excommunication was not carried out by mail. We read that most men of Matthew's type were probably beaten with whips before they were thrown out. Matthew was part of a group that had lost the last shred of patriotism. He and others like him had forgotten the traditions of his ancestors. He had accepted domination by a Roman stranger and had agreed to share with that stranger in the domination of his own people. He had attached himself to the enemies of his country and had become a collector of tribute from his own conquered land. Branded as traitors, those of Matthew's type were shut out from all decent society. They were despised. They were forced to associate with one another and thus only became more corrupt and corrupting.

It was before the kind of person just described that Jesus stood one day and invited him to follow. If there were any attenuating circumstances, we do not know. If Matthew had any "saving qualities" that raised him above his associates, we do not know. If this sinner was not quite as bad as the rest, we do not know. What we do know is that Jesus called a traitor and an outcast to be his disciple. What we do know is that Jesus invited a sinner to enter the kingdom of heaven which he brought near. This was a radical and startling act on Jesus' part.

There are times when I think we miss the unsettling nature of Jesus' choice of Matthew. A few years ago when I first saw the movie "Oh, God," I thought it did us a great service by claiming that God can choose anyone to be his spokesperson. But John Denver was not exactly a startling choice. He was too clean. To be sure, the film depicted his character as slightly agnostic and as a man who stayed away from church. But that's nothing! The Denver character was a hard working, friendly, patriotic American. He was a good family man, a person who did not cheat and who was about as straightforward as a person can be. He was full of Rocky Mountain air and sunshine. You and I, George Burns and Carl Reiner, may choose followers of God like John Denver, but Jesus chose a follower like Matthew. Jesus chose a man who could not go to church even if he wanted to. He chose a man who would not be allowed to salute the flag even if he wanted to. He chose a man who would not be liked by his neighbors even if he wanted to be. Jesus chose Matthew. And he chose him to follow and to enter the joy of God's kingdom.

What our evangelist wants us to see is the fact that Jesus has the right to call followers. He also wants us to see that Jesus uses that right to call the lost, and the forsaken, and the despised. Jesus does for them what they could not possibly do for themselves, and what most others would not want to do for them even if they could. Jesus gives standing before God to those who have none. He accepts those who are unacceptable. He restores to them what has been lost. And he does these things without charge and without scolding or condemnation. He does it with mercy and with kindness.

As Jesus defends his behavior before a group of accusing Pharisees, our text takes one more startling turn. "Go," Jesus says, "and find out what this Scripture means: 'I do not want animal sacrifices, but kindness.' For I have not come to call the respectable people, but the outcasts." Jesus' invitation to Matthew was not a mistake, something he thought more clearly about the next morning. Nor was Jesus' invitation to Matthew a rarity, an event that happens only once in a million years. Jesus' call to Matthew was exactly what he came to do and exactly what his ministry was all about.

When Jesus defends his actions to the Pharisees and when the evangelist writes about it for our instruction, it becomes clear that you and I are to do what Jesus did. That is to say, we Christians are all kinds of Matthews. We are all kinds of sinners and outcasts that have been called by the one with authority and given what we could not earn, buy, or inherit. It is also to say, however, that it is the outcasts and sinners of the world who are to be at the center of our attention. As Christian people and as a Church our attention is to be on those forgotten by the world. Our major concern is to be for those people who never come to anything but despair. The list is endless: the institutionalized, the neglected child and the battered wife, the persecuted, the condemned, the tramps, the chronic failures, the nobodies, the "written off," the ones who don't count. To be sure, all people struggle with limitation and weakness. Certainly all people suffer heartache and sorrow and anxiety. We are to be present for them. But, our evangelist tells us, we also have a special focus. We are to be present wherever people have been cast out, wherever people live on the fringe of society, wherever people are despised, afraid or oppressed. We are to be present in the name of Jesus, accepting, restoring and loving. He who with authority says, "Follow," also with authority says, "Go." "I want kindness," he says. "In the midst of those cast out - I want kindness."

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