Matthew’s gospel speaks the truth in love, and the truth it speaks is the dead and living Lord Jesus exclusively, and all nations, Jews and Gentiles, inclusively.
The feast of Saint Matthew falls on September 21 in the western tradition. Since that is a Sunday this year, it gives us another opportunity for a special party and appreciation for the unique contribution of this apostle and evangelist. His call is recorded in the gospel lesson assigned to this feast day, Matthew 9:9-13; the synoptic parallels are at Mark 2:14-17 and Luke 5:27-32, where he is called Levi (son of Alphaeus according to Mark; perhaps he was the brother of James?).
The epistle lesson for the feast of Saint Matthew is Ephesians 4:7-16. Paul is connecting the ascension of our Lord with the bestowal of the Holy Spirit’s gifts, including the particular “charismata” of apostleship and evangelism among the other roles that edify the Church. That building up is not a strategic vision for some kind of institutional identity, as if the Church is to grow for the sake of growth or something like that. Much to the contrary, it has its purpose in growing people into the body of Christ through true teaching (speaking the truth in love, Ephesians 4:15). The epistle pericope invites our attention to the church work vocation Matthew discharged, just as the Old Testament (OT) reading does. The OT pericope for the feast is Ezekiel 2:8-3, 11. It is the call of the prophet Ezekiel, who eats the sweet scroll of the Lord’s oracle, with the command to proclaim God’s Word to the house of Israel in their Babylonian exile. Matthew’s gospel, distinct from the other synoptics with its plenitude of Hebraisms and familiarity with Jewish prophecy and customs, is reasonably considered the gospel written with the evangelism of the people of Israel specifically in mind, connecting his mission to the role of the prophet six centuries earlier.
The gospel according to Matthew certainly does not confine its views to the Jews, however. It includes the Gentiles all over the place! Recall the genealogy, where other nations are represented in the Gentile women of Jesus’ heritage. Jesus interacts with Gentiles in His ministry, such as the centurion of Matthew 8 and the Canaanite woman of Matthew 15. And do not forget that the grand finale of the gospel is the so-called “Great Commission” section, Matthew 28:16-20, where the eleven are told to disciple (panta ta ethne) all the Gentiles, all the nations, by baptizing-teaching, teaching-baptizing. Matthew’s gospel speaks the truth in love, and the truth it speaks is the dead and living Lord Jesus exclusively, and all nations, Jews and Gentiles, inclusively.
More than any other canonical gospel writer, Matthew frames that inclusion as located in the reign of God, what Jesus calls most often the Kingdom of Heaven (basileia tōn ouranōn). The five great discourses of Matthew’s gospel underscore this theme. The Sermon on the Mount announces it in its programmatic verses, as it identifies in the “beatitudes” who the Kingdom is for, and it is the last folks you would expect. It is for the destitute and poor, the hungry and the persecuted, not the healthy, wealthy and wise (or today’s go-getters, leaders, and entrepreneurs). The Kingdom is not about the great in this world, but the opposite of that. It is where the first are last and the last first. Jesus’ parables overtly and almost exclusively narrate that same theme (“The Kingdom of Heaven is like...”), and the Matthew 18 discourse profoundly illustrates it by placing a child in the midst of the disputing disciples who want to know who the greatest is. Citizens of Christ’s Kingdom are not citizens of this world any longer, owe no allegiance to this world’s king, but to Heaven’s King instead. Citizens of the Kingdom of Heaven are called sheep in Matthew 25, distinct from the goats at the King’s left hand, who depart to a destruction never even meant for them (Matthew 25:41) because they did not recognize the King in the least and the lost, in the last and the little, the ones our Lord has come to save. It is not the healthy who need a doctor, it is the sick. He comes not to call the (self) righteous, he comes for sinners (Matthew 9:12-13).
The Kingdom is not about the great in this world, but the opposite of that. It is where the first are last and the last first.
He comes for sinners like Matthew (the whole point of the gospel pericope). Jesus did not call Matthew to make him better and send him on his way, improve his morals, cure his behavior or some such. He cultivated a relationship with him by commanding: “Follow me.” Then He dined with him. Jesus dined with the lowlier poor too, no doubt, but it was probably nice to have a meal with a tax collector from time to time, someone with deeper party pockets. I think this is the prevailing reason he tells Zacchaeus to get out of the tree in Luke 19. It was not some magical IRS agent repentance moment engineered in the inscrutable and hidden will of God. Jesus just wanted a sit-down meal instead of fast food again. It is not like Jesus is not pleased with Zacchaeus’ repentance, but I think the language Jesus uses can be interpreted to suggest He is duly surprised by Z’s overwhelming, restitutive response.
But I digress a little, just a little. The digression is meant to get us thinking about the context of Matthew’s call. It is fiesta time! The Pharisees criticize Jesus’ company, rabbis have a reputation to maintain, after all, but I wonder how Matthew and company felt about Jesus’ righteous/sinner/healthy/sick comment. You can imagine a comic production of the scene: Matthew hears it and takes umbrage with “Sick? Sinners? I am right here Jesus. We can all hear you!” But of course, that is the point. Those who gather round at Matthew’s place are those who have already heard Jesus and cannot help but agree with Him. They are those who despair of their own righteousness, and that turns out to be quite a crowd. Conservatively, a group including the evangelist, Jesus, and some other tax collectors, some other sinners, and even just a few disciples (Matthew 9:10), would likely take up more than a couple of “triclinia.” In other words, this is not a candlelit, intimate meal. This is a party, and it is conspicuous enough for the Pharisees not just to catch wind of it by tripping over a stray RSVP flyer, but to see it (Matthew 9:11). And it is a party of sinners. In the context of which party, in earshot of the whole shebang, Jesus calls them all out as sinners.
No, actually, that is a little too strong and a wee bit selective. Jesus is not calling them out as sinners as in condemning them. If anything is being condemned it is the Pharisees’ attitude, assumption, unfaith. No, when Jesus proclaims to all that He has come to save sick sinners, He is speaking the truth in love (Ephesians 4:15). And that is what the ragtag party of sinners reclining with Jesus hears, the truth (they are sinners) in love (Jesus has come to save them), the truth (they are sick) in love (Jesus is the great physician of body and soul). There is solidarity here, and that is what makes a party a party. That is the best flavor of a feast, of a fiesta. Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name, you want to go where people know your troubles are all the same. Matthew’s meal is a great picture of the Church. It is solidarity in need, solidarity in sickness, solidarity with one another in following the only savior who can cure the sickness, who can save from sin.
Matthew’s meal is a great picture of the Church. It is solidarity in need, solidarity in sickness, solidarity with one another in following the only savior who can cure the sickness, who can save from sin.
The Church is not at its best when it is a competition in civil righteousness, anxious about seeming holy, one-upping one another in following fashion and fads, child-rearing choices, and political allegiances. That is church as social club, country club Christianity. On the contrary, the Church does best when it is more like Alcoholics Anonymous, where the gathered gaggle agrees, “I am a sinner.” “I am a sinner too.” “Welcome, sinner!” This is not because it is glorying in its sins and sinfulness, but because the gaggle is gathered as guests around a meal that saves. They speak the truth (I am a sinner too) in love (that is why we are here, to get the medicine of immortality). It is funny how an Anonymous group gets all walks of life, all social classes, rich and poor alike, in the same church basement drinking the same stale coffee on a Thursday night. It is not because they are the same age, socioeconomic class, or any other such thing. It is because they are all sick in the same way (solidarity) and all cured with the same cure (which that solidarity reinforces). Funny how church done right does the same; sinners, speaking the truth in love to one another about their sin and about their cure. The Gospel here is that the cure is the truth Himself, who speaks the truth in love to each and every one, tax collector, disciple, sinner, and even Pharisee. The Kingdom of Heaven embraces all who would despair of their own righteousness, success, striving, their very life, to come as unrighteous, as failure, as given up, as the dead, so Christ can be the life for, as the sinner that Christ can save.
Your sermon this week can reenact the invitation Jesus gave Matthew, and it should (on some level every sermon should) in the sense that Jesus calls Matthew to follow and then dines with him and the rest of his sinner buddies. The Kingdom of Heaven has arrived in Jesus, who bids you and your hearer: Follow me! He then sets His Eucharistic table for the fiesta, meeting us as the sick He can cure, as the sinners He alone can save. Craft this for your folks. The rich, the poor, the old and the young, invite them to despair of their own righteousness and cling only and ever to the One who speaks the truth in love, the Great Physician of body and soul, the King of the Kingdom, Matthew’s Lord: The Lord Jesus Christ.
