Not the Righteous, but Sinners (Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26)

 Today, we have a story in two parts.

Part one starts when Jesus calls Matthew, a tax collector, to join him as a disciple; and then immediately after, Jesus is eating dinner in Matthew’s house.

Now, you’re thinking: “Hey, Pastor Danny! How do you know it’s Matthew’s house? The story doesn’t say whose house it is…”

We know it is Matthew’s house, because this same story appears in three of the gospels—Matthew, Mark, and Luke—and the other two versions specifically say that this dinner took place in Matthew’s house, that Matthew was the host of the dinner, and that Jesus was there, along with many other tax collectors and other people……

We also know that this was a formal banquet, because of the Greek word used to describe it.

It was an occasion on which invited guests ate a formal meal, then engaged in conversation during the post-meal symposium. 

It was one of those events where who you invited was important, and who you sat next to was important, because it was all about maintaining and improving your reputation and social status.

Most people, when they went to a formal banquet like this, did so in the hopes of improving their social position. A primary reason for attending a banquet like this would be to be around people who could help you rise in importance. It was a time to network and schmooze……

While Jesus was at this banquet at Matthew’s house, some Pharisees saw him. 

It could be that they just happened to be passing by; formal dining rooms of a house were open to the street. This kept the room from being too warm… and it also made it easy for people passing by (like, perhaps, the Pharisees) to look in and see what was going on, and hear the conversation.

It could even be that these Pharisees were themselves invited to this banquet, but once they saw the guest list, they declined, because, again, who you dined with was important, and the Pharisees did not want to dine with the sort of people (sinners and tax collectors) who were on the guest list for this particular banquet.

But they still wanted to see for themselves; they couldn’t help it. Would Jesus, who claimed to be a teacher, a rabbi, really dine with those sorts of people?

Sure enough, they saw him sitting there, with those undesirables. They found some disciples who were outside, and asked them: “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?”

And maybe one of the disciples, who was still new to this “following Jesus” thing, said, “We were kinda wondering the same thing…”

So that’s part one of the story.

In Part Two: A leader of the synagogue arrived, and saw Jesus sitting in the banquet—apparently this leader had been looking for Jesus—and he interrupted the meal to beg and plead with Jesus to come heal his daughter. 

How could Jesus say no? So Jesus got up and left the banquet, and followed this leader to his house. 

But on their way, before they got there, their journey was interrupted by a woman who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years. She reached out and touched him, believing that he could make her well. 

Jesus stopped. He took the time to heal her. Then he continued on to the synagogue leader’s house.

After this delay, when he finally got to the house, it appeared to everyone that Jesus was too late, and that the girl had died; but Jesus took her by the hand, and the girl got up. She was fine.

And that’s part two of today’s story.

The story of the banquet, and the story of the double healing of both the woman with hemorrhages and the daughter of the synagogue leader: they’re presented together, as one story, here in Matthew’s gospel. These events all took place, it seems, on the same evening.

These stories also appear in Mark and Luke, but in those versions of the gospel, the banquet and the healing of the synagogue’s daughter and the healing of the woman with hemorrhages, are separated by several chapters, implying that they took place on different days.

So, today, my question is: why did Matthew put these stories together, and describe these different events as all taking place on the same day? What connection between these stories is Matthew trying to make?

He must have had a reason for doing so. Luke and Mark keep these two events separate, but Matthew puts them together. 

And I think I know why.

Both parts of this story involve interactions with respected, influential leaders. In part one, Jesus is interacting with Pharisees; in part two, he’s interacting with a leader of the synagogue. 

(Matthew doesn’t name the synagogue leader, but both Mark and Luke say that his name was Jairus, so I’m going to start calling him Jairus.)

And both the Pharisees, and Jairus the synagogue leader, are used to getting preferential treatment. They all—because of their occupation—expect and usually receive the privileges that go with their high status in society.

The Pharisees, and synagogue leaders like Jairus, were not necessarily bad. They were generally respected by the people; highly regarded, even. Even Jesus refers to them as “righteous.”

But they were people with privilege. They were used to getting preferential treatment, and always going to the front of the line. They had use of a never-ending fastpass, lightning lane, or fastlane. 

One thing I try to make myself aware of is the privilege I have: the preferential treatment I receive because of my skin color, or my gender, or my citizenship. That privilege seems so normal, and I’m so accustomed to it, that I don’t always recognize it. Receiving that privilege, that preferential treatment, just feels like what’s normal. It’s what’s expected.

Other people in our society have privilege because of their wealth or their popularity. It’s really hard for someone who owns multiple homes and boats and luxury cars to see how privileged they are, how their privilege has helped them gain their wealth, and how privilege helps them keep their wealth. 

And the really privileged ones do expect that easy access to leaders and other influential figures, the movers and shakers in government and business. Government and business leaders always have time to meet with them, while the rest of us can’t even get an appointment.

But notice: that’s not how it works with Jesus. Jesus dines with those who are called “sinners and tax collectors” by the Pharisees. No other leader would give them the time of day, but Jesus associates with them, dines with them, fellowships with them. 

And the Pharisees, at least in this story, are on the outside looking in, feeling perhaps a bit resentful that Jesus is choosing to dine with such common people instead of choosing to dine with them.

That’s the sense of entitlement that comes with privilege. 

And then the synagogue leader, Jairus, arrives, and Jesus goes with him, because Jauirus’ daughter needs healing. See, it’s not that Jesus doesn’t care about those with privilege; they are in need of healing, too; they also need to be restored to wholeness… in some ways, even more so than others.

But on the way to Jairus’ house, a woman who had been bleeding for twelve years approaches Jesus. She is also looking for healing.

And the twelve years she’s been bleeding connects her to Jairus’ daughter, who is twelve years old. In fact, in this story it seems likely that her bleeding began the moment Jairus’ daughter was born.

What do you think? Is this connection meant to symbolize the way people of privilege and wealth pull resources away from the poor? 

Both Jairus and the bleeding woman had seen doctors, but those doctors cost the woman all the money she had, until she could no longer pay for treatment. Jairus, meanwhile, could afford the health care his daughter needed, but in this case, even his wealth and privilege were not enough to heal her.

When the bleeding woman approaches Jesus, he stops, and gives his attention to her.

Can’t you just imagine Jairus getting frustrated, maybe even telling the woman: “Hey! Wait your turn. Jesus has already agreed to come heal my daughter; perhaps when he’s done that, then he can give his attention to you!” 

It sounds fair, right? Jairus asked first, Jairus should get Jesus’ attention first…

But Jesus moves this woman who approached him to the front of the line. Jairus’ never-ending fastpass doesn’t work this time. 

So: the Pharisees don’t get the preferential access to Jesus that they expected on account of their privilege; and Jairus doesn’t get to use his never-ending fastpass, even though his privilege had always allowed him to use it in the past.

And one can see how this might be upsetting to the Pharisees and to Jairus. How dare Jesus not grant them these privileges. 

I think that, for any of us, to have any privilege that we’ve been using all our lives suddenly revoked, would be a hard thing. Probably because we don’t even recognize our privilege as privilege. We don’t see our treatment as preferential, we just see it as normal. 

It even feels unfair and maybe even unjust, when those privileges are taken away.

Some white people claim that they are victims of “reverse racism” when they are denied their privilege or preferential treatment. They’re not being discriminated against. They’re just being denied the preferential treatment they’d come to expect; and, to them, it feels unfair.

And some straight people can’t stand the idea of gay pride, because it decenters their straight, cisgender identity. They are used to having that central place in society, but during Pride, those whose sexual orientation and gender identity usually has them pushed off to the side, they take the center.

Pride doesn’t take away the rights of straight, cisgender people. Equal rights and even affirmative action don’t take away the rights of white people. 

In the same way, Jesus wasn’t trying to take away rights the Pharisees had; and Jesus wasn’t trying to deny healing to Jairus’ daughter. He was just trying to balance things out, by letting those who had always been last in the world go first for once. 

And in both of these stories, we catch a glimpse of how things are in the Kingdom of God.

Those who are condemned by the world, given labels like “sinners,” Jesus embraces. Those who the world condemns to hell, Jesus gives life to. Those who have been told, “move to the back of the line,” Jesus brings up to the front.

Jesus said, “I have come to call not the righteous, but sinners.” Everyone receives healing, everyone receives salvation, but the ones condemned by the world get to go to the front of the line.

In the book of Job, it says that God “shows no partiality to princes and does not favor the rich over the poor, for they are all the work of his hands” [Job 34:19]. 

In God’s kingdom, those who the world condemns as “sinners” get to experience fully God’s love and grace.

We all will receive healing and wholeness, but those who have been pushed down or to the back will be brought to the front of the line. They’ll be given that lightning lane access. 

This is what we’re about at Bixby Knolls Christian Church, or at least, what we’re working to become: a community that lifts up those who have been cast down, and re-rights the social structure that for too long has benefited only a few. 

To the sinners, the tax collectors, and anyone else who has ever been told that you don’t belong, our message—the message of Jesus—is that you DO belong, that there is a place at the table for you. Our message is that healing is for you; that grace is for you; that love is for you.

Heal the Sick. Throw Out the Demons (Matthew 9:35-10:8).

Heal the sick. Throw out the demons. 

A number of things are mentioned here, but these two are mentioned multiple times. For emphasis. Healing the sick and throwing out the demons - these are the ones that are repeated.

What are we to make of these things - healing the sick, and throwing out demons?

Healing the sick - well, that one’s not too hard to figure out. What sickness do we have in our society today? The answer to that is obvious...The pandemic has killed well over 120,000 people in this country, and over 420,000 people around the world. Many, many more are sick. Most will recover, but still, too many have died. This sickness has also caused fear, it has disrupted lives, and it has greatly limited our activities.

So: when Jesus says, “heal the sick,” we’ve got our work cut out for us. You don’t need me to tell you that we need some healing today.

Throwing out demons - that one’s a little harder to make sense of. Among 21st century Christians (like us), there are different ideas about demons. Some believe in them literally. Others explain them away, saying that ancient people didn’t really understand things like mental illness, so they came up with the idea of demons to help explain it.

But what is a demon? 

When you get right down to it, the definition of a demon is an evil power that oppresses.  That's what demons did. They oppressed people. They robbed people of their freedom, their freedom to live lives of abundance, lives of wholeness. 

I'll say it again: demons are evil powers that rob people of their freedom to live lives of abundance, lives of wholeness.

We've got a lot of demons like that roaming around today. Evil powers that oppress, that rob people of their freedom to live lives of abundance, lives of wholeness, are very much alive today.

And chief among them is racism. Systemic racism is perhaps the most powerful demon of our time, because of its awful power to oppress.

Which means this scripture speaks directly to two of the most urgent issues of our day: sickness, and racism. 

Jesus told his disciples to go and confront these two evils in Israel. Don’t go to a Samaritan city or a Gentile city, he said. Go to the lost sheep, the people of Israel. 

This sounds like Jesus is prejudiced against Samaritans and Gentiles; it sounds like he’s favoring Israel over those other places. “Israelite exceptionalism,” one could call it.  But if we pay close attention, we’ll see that’s not the case.

The reason Jesus tells the disciples to go to the people of Israel is because that’s where the lost sheep are. The people of Israel are lost. They are like sheep without a shepherd. There is no one to lead them.

The shepherd is the one who leads the sheep, but they have no shepherd. They have no real leader. The shepherd is the one who leads them beside still waters, and to lush fields. The shepherd is the one who provides for their needs and who protects them.

That is what a shepherd does. That is what a leader does. Provides for and protects.

But where is Israel’s leader? He’s off colluding with the Romans to make himself powerful. He’s oppressing the people in order to make himself rich. He’s not leading the people. He’s not doing what’s best for them.

The people have no shepherd… no king who is for them… no leader. The one who rules from the palace does not have their best interests at heart. The people are not his priority.

Which means the kingdom over which he rules is a far cry from being the nation God desires. It is a long way from being God’s beloved community.

It’s as if this whole scripture passage is a parable written just for our own time. Is it not? There is sickness and oppression and no real leadership to guide the people.

But a new kingdom is arriving - the kingdom of God. And these acts of healing and exorcism are signs of that kingdom. For in that kingdom - in the kingdom of God:

 there is healing, 

and there is freedom. 

Healing is given freely, without demands for payment. It says so right here in the scripture! A sign of God’s kingdom, a sign of God’s beloved community, is free health care! In God’s kingdom, in God’s beloved community, healing is provided.

Every time someone in my family needs to go to the emergency room - it’s happened a few times over the years - I always worry about what the bill is going to be. I always worry about what amount the insurance company will say is my responsibility.

And for many people who live in poverty, who are underinsured, or who don’t have insurance, they won’t go to the emergency room or to a doctor when they need to, just because they know they can’t afford the bill. And some of them die as a result. 

They die, because they can’t afford to be healed. They die, because they live in poverty in a land that has no good news for the poor.

That is immoral. It is sinful. It is something that Jesus commands us to fix.

But in God’s kingdom, good news is preached to the poor, and healing is given freely.

And freedom is likewise given freely, without demands for payment. In God’s kingdom, the people are set free. All the people. Not some. All.

Do you know that I have never, in my life, been pulled over by the police? I used to think that this was because I was such an excellent driver. But now I realize that being a good driver is only one factor, and probably not even the biggest factor in this. The biggest factor is probably the color of my skin.

And in those times when I did see a police car in my rear view mirror and a flash of panic went through me before he passed by, what I feared most was getting a speeding ticket, and the expense I would incur as a result. It never even occured to me to be afraid for my life.

But eventually, I learned that others are not so fortunate. Because their skin is darker than mine, they have a lot more to fear when they get pulled over by the police. Now, it’s certainly possible that the police officer who pulled them over will be just and fair and decent, like so many police officers are. But there are also too many who are not just and fair and decent; not when it comes to people of color. 

And I used to think that people saying things like this were exaggerating. Because after all, the civil rights movement which happened just before I was born fixed all the racial problems in this country. 

That’s what I was taught as a kid growing up.

But I was lied to. I was lied to then, just as we’re all still being lied to today, by those who still downplay the continued oppression and injustice against Black people in this country.

And you can interpret this however you want - metaphorically, or literally - I don’t really care. But it’s clear that the demons who oppress people and rob people of their freedom to live lives of wholeness, lives of abundance - those demons are alive and present in our society. They are an evil in our society that we need to do something about.

And perhaps we are starting to do something about it. Perhaps this time, society as a whole is listening. Perhaps this time, #BlackLivesMatter won’t be something that is trendy for a week, and then forgotten. Perhaps this time, we all will be serious about throwing that demon out.

And right now, we may not have a shepherd in this country who is willing or able to lead us in this task, but we do have Jesus. Now, and always. Jesus our shepherd, Jesus the one who leads us, Jesus the one who shows us the way to life in the kingdom of God - where the sick are healed, and the demons are thrown out. 

And Jesus is calling laborers to help him in this task. Harvesters, who will help him establish God’s kingdom on earth. There is plenty of work to be done, but too few who are willing to do it. Healing the sick is difficult work, and throwing out demons is even harder. Demons don’t go down without a struggle.

And yet, we are called… to use our power… to use our privilege, to whatever extent each of us has privilege… to heal the sick, and throw out the demons.

Sermon: "Good, Not Perfect" (Matthew 9:35-10:8)

A few weeks ago, I came up with a great idea for a Father’s Day sermon. I was so pleased with myself! I went to make a note of it on my calendar so I wouldn’t forget it… and then realized, I’m not going to be here on Father’s Day.

I’m going to be taking some youth from our region on a mission trip.

So, you get your Father’s Day sermon on Mother’s Day. However, in my family at least, traditional roles of father and mother blur. I do a good portion of the laundry and the cooking at home, and I even cut hair - not Ginger’s, though. Ginger cooks and does laundry, too. Usually, whoever has the time does the chore.

I know you get that. You understand. This is the 21st century!

At the rural church in northern California - where I was pastor before I came to Long Beach - not everyone got it. If Ginger went out of town for a few days, the ladies in that church - and a few of the men - wondered how I’d survive, since Ginger wasn’t there to cook for me and the boys. And I’d look at them and think, “Are you for real?”

Anyway, I won’t call this a “Father’s Day sermon,” and I can’t really call it a “Mother’s Day sermon.” It is, though, about parenthood, and the idea for this sermon came to me while I was reading the book Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates.

The book is in the form of an extended letter from the author to his son. So in the passage I’m going to read to you, when the author says “you,” he’s referring to his son; and when he says “your grandparents,” the author is talking about his own parents. Got it?

The passage goes like this:

“When I was six, Ma and Dad took me to a local park. I slipped from their gaze and found a playground. Your grandparents spent anxious minutes looking for me. When they found me, Dad did what every parent I knew would have done - he reached for his belt. I remember watching him in a kind of daze, awed at the distance between punishment and offense. Later, I would hear it in Dad’s voice - “Either I can beat him, or the police.” Maybe that saved me. Maybe it didn’t. All I know is, the violence rose from the fear like smoke from a fire, and I cannot say whether that violence, even administered in fear and love, sounded the alarm or choked us at the exit.” [Ta-Nehisi Coates, Between the World and Me]

I read this passage without casting judgment on the Father’s use of the belt. I certainly don’t condone this type of discipline.

However, this father, like all parents, is doing his best to figure things out as he goes. He doesn’t have all the answers. He makes mistakes. He’s figuring it out as he goes.

Even the author, years later, cannot blame his father. “Maybe that saved me,” he writes; “Maybe it didn’t. I cannot say.”

Later in the book, Coates describes an episode in which he himself made a parenting mistake - not a huge mistake, but one that could have had huge consequences for him and his son. It didn’t, and life went on, and Coates learned and grew from it.

Reading this I realized: even though there is a world of difference between the author’s childhood and my own, and the world he lives in and the world I live in; and even though his mistakes as a parent can cost him more than my mistakes can cost me since he does not benefit from the white privilege that I have… on at least one level, we are the same.

By that I mean that, for me and all parents, it happens like this: You prepare to be a parent. You imagine what it will be like. You rehearse over and over in your mind how you will parent, how you will raise your child, what kind of parent you will be…

Then the child comes along. And the child is unique. Many of the ideas you had about how to raise a typical child do not apply, because your child is not typical. There is no such thing as a typical child. There is only “this” child. This unique individual that is like no other.

That doesn’t mean the advice you received and the books you read are wasted. They are very helpful as long as you don’t apply them too directly. There is no “one-size-fits-all” parenting. You need to take all the advice and all the books and all your observations, and keep all those ideas in the back of your mind, because there are things there that will be helpful, things that will be useful, things you can pick from.

But no parenting style that has ever existed will fit you perfectly, because no child like your child has ever existed.

Which means that, to a large degree, you’ll be figuring this out as you go.

But that doesn’t stop you. Still, you venture forward, learning as you go, making mistakes and learning from those mistakes, becoming better and better as a parent each day, hopefully being a GOOD parent, but never, ever being a PERFECT parent.

And anyway, the more I learn, and the older I get, the more I realize that PERFECT, isn’t. PERFECTION is not something to strive for.

Kubo and the Two Strings is one of my favorite movies. The main character - Kubo - is told stories about his grandfather. His grandfather wanted to be perfect; but perfection is impossible for mere mortals.

Being human means being exposed to “hate and heartache and suffering and death.” These things are less than perfect. So, in order to be perfect, one must become blind to all human emotion. One must become blind to love. One must become non-human.

That was the grandfather’s goal for himself and his family: to rise above imperfection, and become immortal… and perfect.

His daughter - Kubo’s mother - was ready to join him, but then she fell in love. She fell in love with a human, a mortal, a person who was good, but not perfect. This made her realize that human goodness is better than inhuman perfection. So she raised Kubo to value what is good, rather than what is perfect.

In the movie, the grandfather - now an immortal moon god - wants to make Kubo just like him: “blind to humanity: cold, hard… and perfect.”

But when the grandfather tries to get Kubo to join him, to be immortal, to live with him in heaven and leave human life behind, Kubo responds:

“For every horrible thing down here, there’s something far more beautiful. My mother saw it. So did my father. I see it… I can look into the eyes of another, and see their soul, their love.”

The Grandfather saw human pain and weakness. Imperfection.

Kubo was taught to see love in the midst of all that. Not perfection, but goodness.

Jesus called twelve disciples to follow him. He called many more, men and women, but these twelve were given special leadership roles. They were the ones who learned from him, who assisted him, and who would carry on his message and his movement after he was gone.

Yet they were far from perfect.

Their failings are almost comical at times. Peter, trying to walk on water with Jesus, then sinking into the waves and having to be rescued by Jesus.

Oh, ye of little faith.

Jesus gave them authority over unclean spirits, to cast them out, and to cure every disease and every sickness. “Proclaim the good news,” he said.  “Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons.”

But the disciples struggled to do what Jesus said. Once, when confronted by a massive crowd of hungry people, Jesus told them to feed the people, but the disciples didn’t see how it could be done.

Oh, ye of little faith.

When Jesus spent the night in prayer, knowing that he was going to be arrested, he told his disciples to stay awake with him. They all fell asleep. Then they all denied and deserted him.

When Jesus was crucified, they thought the movement was dead. They lost all hope. It was a group of women who had to tell them: “No; Jesus is alive. Hope is alive. The movement is alive!” But the disciples were confused, and still afraid.

Oh, ye of little faith.

Needless to say, the disciples were not perfect.

Even in the book of Acts, when the Christian movement really gets going, the disciples haven’t got everything all figured out. They’re still figuring it out as they go.

Which makes me think: maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to be.

“Perfection” isn’t really something that was valued in the Jewish world of Jesus. Perfection was more of a Greek idea that did creep into early Christianity, but it wasn’t valued all that much in the ancient Judaism of Jesus. More important to Judaism was goodness.

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus does command his followers to “be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” But a more accurate translation would be, “be complete in love, as your heavenly Father is complete in showing love to everyone.” That’s how the Common English Bible translates it.

And if humans are imperfect, showing love to them means loving that which is imperfect.

Goodness, not perfection.

It was good for Jesus to choose imperfect people to be his disciples. I think that’s the whole point. Those who started the Christian movement were not perfect.

But they were good.

That’s an important thing for parents to remember.

That’s an important thing for everyone to remember.

It’s an important thing for the church today to remember.

We’re not perfect.

And there’s no such thing as a perfect church.

There’s also no such thing as “having it all figured out.”

Keep that in mind the next time you make a mess of things… or the next time someone you know makes a mess of things.

As long as you are human, you will never have it all figured out.

As long as the church is made up of humans, we will never have it all figured out.

Churches that think they have it all figured out… they’re a little too perfect for me.

There’s no such thing as a perfect church, just like there is no such thing as a perfect nation, a perfect tribe, a perfect culture, a perfect anything. We get into a lot of trouble anytime we claim that we are perfect.

And people who are perfect… well, don’t they just drive you a little bit crazy?

Instead of focusing on being perfect, let’s focus on being good. Let’s focus on doing the best we can, knowing that it’s not perfect, and that’s ok.

Because like the disciples, we’re just figuring it out as we go.

That doesn’t mean we’re on our own: the Spirit guides us, scripture guides us, and we have each other. We also have forgiveness and grace in abundance.

Because, yeah: we’re still figuring things out as we go.

It’s not perfect. But it’s good.