A Sermon Scripture Lesson: Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26
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Presented by Rev. Merlin T. Batt
Intentional Interim Pastor
St. Matthew’s United Church of Christ
Maiden, North Carolina
Tenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
June 8, 2008
Some of you will recall from last Sunday that I began my sermon by describing the leaning Tower of Pisa in Italy, its 800-plus years of history, its faulty design and construction, the modern efforts to shore up its foundation to keep it standing, hopefully, for another 300 years, and the lesson it has for us as we go about the work of building Christian foundations for our lives and the lives of our children.
This Sunday I’m inviting you along on a journey south from Pisa to the capitol of Italy, the city of Rome. More specifically, I will bring you into the Contarelli Chapel located within the church belonging to the French community in Rome – a church named San Luigi dei Francesi. The chapel we are entering imaginatively this morning is famous for housing three paintings of events in the life of St. Matthew, the “patron saint” of this church, if you will. All three paintings are the work of the sixteenth century Baroque artist Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio.
Perhaps the most famous of the three paintings in the chapel is entitled “The Calling of St. Matthew.” Already you have found a reprint of this painting on the back of your worship bulletin. I invite you to turn your attention to it now as I describe briefly what’s going on in the painting.
Unfortunately, transferring the image from the Internet to a piece a paper, and then through the photocopier to your bulletin has blurred some of the important details, but I’ll do my best to bring some of these things to light. The scene before you recalls our Gospel text today, especially verse 9, which says, “As Jesus was walking along, he saw a man called Matthew sitting at the tax booth; and he said to him, “Follow me.”
The first thing to notice is, of course, the cast of characters. The figure standing at the far right is Jesus. You can’t see it, but on the original there is a faint halo, a sliver of light really, painted over his head, giving only a hint of divinity. Jesus is pointing with his right hand at the man seated at the table in the middle of four other characters. Especially notice Jesus’ hand suspended in the space between the two standing men and the four seated ones. It reminds us of Michelangelo’s famous painting on the nearby Sistine Chapel ceiling of God the Father reaching out his hand to the outstretched hand of Adam. But here, this hand, the hand of Jesus, is reaching out to give new life to a tax collector named Matthew – but more about him later.
The Apostle Peter is standing close to Jesus, and Peter appears to be motioning to the young man nearest him, as if to restrain him. What you can’t see clearly on this reprint is the sword that the young man is reaching for on his left side to defend against the two men who have entered the room unexpectedly.
Now, before we shift our attention to the four seated men, notice that Jesus and Peter are dressed in flowing robes. This is a timeless manner of dress, but look at the four seated men - they are dressed in the fashion of the 16th century. It is as if the artist is saying that Jesus and Peter, representing another timeless life and world, have come to these men who are dressed in contemporary clothes and involved in the affairs of this world.
Matthew the tax collector, as I said earlier, is the bearded man seated in the middle of the four. The two on Matthew’s right, our left, are so concerned with counting the tax money that they don’t even notice Christ’s arrival. Their focus is on the money. Their consequent inattention deprives them of the opportunity to respond to Christ and receive the life He offers. The two young men on Matthew’s left, our right, do indeed respond – the younger one drawing back against Matthew as if seeking his protection, and the older one, who is armed with a sword and reaching for it, as if to defend against the two “intruders.”
Now, finally, focus on Matthew. Notice the quizzical expression on his face, and notice his right hand reaching for the coins on the table, and especially notice his left hand which is pointing back at himself, as if to say to Jesus, “You mean me? You are calling me to follow you?” Here Caravaggio has captured with oil on canvas the dramatic moment of surprise and indecision as Christ unexpectedly appears and calls Matthew to follow Him. And we know from the Gospel story what happens next - that in another second, Matthew will rise up and follow Christ. The text says, “And he got up and followed him.”
I’ve shared this with you because this is an amazing picture, particularly when you see it with all the details clear; but even more, it’s based on an amazing story, amazing from a number of perspectives. For one, it is amazing that Jesus should bother about someone so universally despised as Matthew. As you probably know, he was a tax collector. In first century Palestine that meant something far more repulsive than a faceless Washington bureaucrat working for the Internal Revenue Service might to us.
You see, Matthew was one of those Jews who exacted taxes for the Roman occupiers of the Jewish homeland. As such he was considered a traitor to his people. Furthermore, the system by which the Romans collected taxes from their conquered people lent itself to corruption. Positioned along major trade routes in conquered lands, these tax collectors typically charged not only what the Romans required, but also whatever they could themselves fleece from passersby, thus tax collectors were proverbially rich and fanatically hated. What’s more, these tax collectors, by virtue of their work, had regular contact with Gentiles. They had no choice but to deal with Gentiles. And such dealings further defiled them in the eyes of their fellow Jews, who separated themselves from everything “Gentile.”
Thus tax collectors like Matthew in Jesus’ day were lumped among a large group of people called “sinners” – those who worked in despised occupations (like that of Matthew, for example); those guilty of flagrant immorality, sexual and otherwise; those who failed to observe the Law of Moses as interpreted narrowly by the Pharisees; and, of course, all Gentiles.
The line between the righteous and these sinners was clearly drawn, but Jesus had a habit of regularly crossing back and forth over the line. He ate with Pharisees, and he dined with sinners. His willingness to work on both sides of the line infuriated the righteous as much as it amazed the sinners. Surely that’s why Caravaggio painted Matthew with the quizzical look on his face and his hand pointing back to himself, as if saying “You mean me?”
It’s also amazing that Matthew should leave everything to follow Jesus. All things considered, Matthew had it pretty good. As long as the Romans stayed in control (and that appeared in the early decades of the first century to be a long, long time), Matthew was assured of a job and of an income, a handsome one at that. He was a wealthy man, could buy what he wanted. He lived in great comfort and style compared to most people. And while he was hated by many, and therefore had to watch out where he was going so he didn’t get a knife slipped between his ribs, Matthew had a small group of friends and surely many who pretended friendship in order to get from him what they wanted.
But at the same time there must have been some discontent in his heart, some irresolvable uneasiness about what he did every day, some unfulfilled dreams of doing something with his life that really mattered. His dilemma is not confined to successful, wealthy people of the first century. It’s a dilemma that spans the centuries even down to our own day. I wonder how many successful, well-off people are like Matthew – discontented at heart, uneasy about the work they do, un-fulfilled. Well, whatever it was for Matthew, something propelled him out of his seat, away from his money, out of the tax office, way out of his “comfort zone,” to follow this Jesus only God knows where. Amazing!
And isn’t it amazing that Jesus had such authority that when he said to a businessman like Matthew, “Follow me,” the man obeyed? Surely Matthew had heard about Jesus in the small town of Capernaum. Everybody in the village knew everybody and everybody’s business. Maybe even Matthew had himself heard Jesus teach in the local synagogue or seen Him do some extraordinary sign of healing. Matthew may have given even more than passing thought to this Jesus. But then, suddenly, one ordinary day in the life of a despised tax collector, Jesus showed up, pointed directly at him that bony finger and said, “Follow me,” and thus commanded Matthew to get up, walk away from his former life, and come follow Jesus. Just like that! Amazing!
And one more amazing thing – the transformation that came about in Matthew’s life as a result of Jesus’ calling him. We all know that Matthew became one of the Twelve, the inner circle of Jesus’ first followers, an Apostle. There’s little else we know about him for sure, except for this one incredible thing: that we owe to this former, despised tax collector the first written records about Jesus. They are contained along with other material in what we now call The Gospel According to St. Matthew, the first of the Gospels in the New Testament. In other words these verses we have about Jesus calling Matthew come from Matthew himself, the writer of the first Gospel! When Jesus pointed that finger at Matthew and said, “Follow me,” he must have had in mind Matthew’s facility with the pen and his careful keeping of written records, don’t you think. Amazing!
You do recall from Caravaggio’s painting that the artist portrayed Jesus and Peter dressed in timeless fashion, and Matthew and his four companions dressed in the garb of his own time, the 16th century. It was a subtle way for the artist to say what is most certainly and amazingly true: that Christ still comes to us in our own day and time, into our unique circumstances. He comes to us still, sinners though we are. He draws near in surprising ways. He pointedly issues His command that we follow Him, that we get up and walk away from the values, the lifestyle, the habits, the goals that define life in this world, and take up His. He commands with authority, and His command to follow is not always, but often is, met by a willing response. Maybe you can remember that moment in your life when you got up and began to follow Him. Or maybe this is a moment when you are hearing His call upon your life!
Those who hear his call and obey His command to follow find that He does with them what He did with Matthew the tax collector. Christ takes the qualities and the skills and the interests that He finds in us and uses them in His cause, the cause of the Kingdom of God. My friends, there is no greater, more fulfilling purpose in life than to find yourself caught up in the following of Jesus!
“Follow me,” Christ commands us. And, like the moment portrayed in Caravaggio’s painting, the world holds its breath awaiting our response.
