Sunday, November 17, 2013

The Call: Levi (Sermon for 11/17/2013) Mark 2:13-17



We focus today on the call of Levi, also known as Matthew.  Now, before we delve into this story, it’s important to say a few things about Levi’s chosen profession.  Levi was a tax collector.  To you and I, this doesn’t sound entirely objectionable.  While we all make occasional jokes about the IRS and do not enjoy giving them large sums of money, I don’t think we harbor grievances against all those who work there.
Ancient Jerusalem worked a little differently.  See, Rome was reviled as an invading army, but they had the Roman army, so people had to do what Rome said.  Rome also needed to collect taxes, but rather than send people from Rome to Jerusalem, they hired Jews to do this for them.  So any Jew who elected to work for Rome was choosing to be employed by the occupying army.  They were reviled as traitors.  Also, they were given free rein to collect as much as they wanted.  As long as Rome got their cut, they didn’t care how much extra the tax collectors picked up.  So tax collectors were notoriously corrupt, but people had to comply, because the tax collectors had the Roman army at their beck and call.  No one liked tax collectors.
It’s important to understand this.  In our story today, tax collectors even get their own special category.  They’re not just ‘sinners’, like everyone else—the sinners don’t look so bad when compared to tax collectors.  No one of good repute would be associated with tax collectors.  They’d probably cross the street if they saw one coming.  When people thought of the Kingdom of God, they may have had some questions, but I’m sure they didn’t expect tax collectors to be associated.
With that knowledge tucked in the back of our minds, let’s dive into Mark 2:13-17.

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Mark 2:13-17
13 He went out again beside the sea, and all the crowd was coming to him, and he was teaching them. 14 And as he passed by, he saw Levi the son of Alphaeus sitting at the tax booth, and he said to him, “Follow me.” And he rose and followed him.
15 And as he reclined at table in his house, many tax collectors and sinners were reclining with Jesus and his disciples, for there were many who followed him. 16 And the scribes of the Pharisees, when they saw that he was eating with sinners and tax collectors, said to his disciples, “Why does he eat with tax collectors and sinners?” 17 And when Jesus heard it, he said to them, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I came not to call the righteous, but sinners.”
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How many of you passed a fast food restaurant on the way here?  How many did you pass?  Did you pay attention?  Or did you notice the billboards that line Shallowford Road? 
I imagine you saw them—they’re hard to miss.  But the question is how much attention did you pay to them?  We’ve all seen them so many times that we don’t pay much attention to them.  They’re like commercials on television—your brain is so accustomed to being shouted at that it turns down the attention whenever they come on.  We see, but we don’t really see.
Now, this isn’t too much of a problem for us.  It’s not like we’re missing anything.  But the problem results when we start to act this way around people.  It’s easy to do—we pass by so many people in a given day that we can’t possibly spend in depth time with all of them.  Also, we’re often so wrapped up in our own lives and busy-ness that we don’t really pay attention to them.  Anymore most people you see have their faces buried in some sort of device anyway.
It’s easy to pass by people without truly seeing them.  We don’t notice when their faces are contorted by grief, or when their souls are heavy with troubles.  We don’t see them when they are consumed by joy or want to share some good news.  We’re so wrapped up in ourselves that we fail to see people.
Jesus, however, didn’t have this problem.  He saw people, and when he looked he saw more than just a human shape.  He instantly was able to see their needs and desires, to recognize them as the individual child of God that they are, to treasure and celebrate them.  So in an age when most people would have passed by the tax collector with little more than a sneer, Jesus saw Levi, and he went to him.
Now, this is all relatively simple narrative, but it’s so important for us to notice the little things.  Jesus went to Levi.  He didn’t wait for Levi to recognize who he was and then come to Jesus.  He didn’t sit back and hope that Levi got it all sorted out so that he could approach the throne of grace.  Levi, in the midst of his tax collecting, was approached by Jesus.
In the same way, Jesus comes to us.  He sees us for who we truly are, sons and daughters of God, and he comes to us.  He notices each and every one of us, and he approaches us.  He doesn’t coldly sit back and hope we sort it all out—he reaches out in love to us.  He initiates our life of faith and beckons us into the waters of discipleship.  He invites.  We, like the tax collector, may be in the midst of sin, but Jesus still comes to us.  We don’t have to be perfect or ready for the call—we just have to be willing to hear it.
So Jesus comes to us, just as he came to Levi, and invites him to follow.
Levi, we read, gets up and follows.  Just like that.  His life is disrupted.
Here we see the disruptive love of Jesus Christ at work.  When Christ calls us, he doesn’t call us to stay the same.  He doesn’t just add to what we have—we are transformed, waken from some half-slumber and bid to walk in the light, to experience the abundant life of which our souls have always dreamed, often unconsciously.  We are called from death into life, and it is disruptive.  The sins which we have been carrying for so long are called to be left behind.  The patterns of living for ourselves are set down.  Old habits that no longer fit are shed so that new life can be put on.  The love of Christ is disruptive, jostling us, transforming us, and when we rise to follow, we are never the same.
Notice, though, that all is not left behind.  As we discussed last week with Jesus and the fishermen, Jesus wanders into our lives and transforms what is there.  In the same way, Jesus wandered into Levi’s life and changed what was already present.  When Jesus called Levi and Levi responded with obedience, we often assume that Levi never returned to his familiar surroundings.  Instead, we see here that Jesus is now dining in Levi’s home with all of Levi’s friends.  Jesus knocks on the door and comes in, sits down and makes himself comfortable.  Jesus longs to have an intimate relationship with us, to know us at our deepest level, to sit down at table and dine with us.  Jesus calls Levi and ends up in Levi’s house, surrounded by his friends, and the table conversation is surely transformed by the presence of Christ.  What might have been sinful conversation is now centered around Christ, and surely more than one of Levi’s friends comes to understand just who the Messiah is.
Now, if it were you or I, we might be afraid to wander into a house like Levi’s.  Surely, our reputations would be on the line.  We might be afraid to be seen with someone like Levi.  We might be nervous about what other people might think.  We wouldn’t want our spotless image to be tarnished, right?
Jesus isn’t concerned about that.  He is willing to engage with all, regardless of what their previous choices might have been.  He doesn’t worry what others might think—he sees people for who they are, and he sees their need.  He recognizes that within the brokenness we have created is a person, made in the image of God, precious in God’s sight.  To that person, he goes.
We, too, are called to go and love.  We can’t be so worried about what the world thinks.  We can’t be so caught up in believing that our reputations are more important than loving others.  We can’t let fear prevent us from love.
The scribes and Pharisees see Jesus eating with these sinners, and they can’t believe that the Messiah would act in such a way.  They believe the Messiah should only be there for those who are living rightly.  They can’t see that all people are in desperate need of a Savior.  They don’t recognize their own need for a Savior.  What they really want is a Savior to show up and congratulate them for saving themselves.  Their pride prevents them from seeing their own sin.
Jesus tells them that he hasn’t come to call the righteous, but sinners.  At first, we may wonder what this means, for it would seem like the righteous should be included, too.  But Jesus understands what is really at the heart of the claim of righteousness.  If we believe we can manufacture our own righteousness, we believe that we are our own saviors.  If we can save ourselves, what need have we of Jesus?
Tax collectors and sinners easily recognize that they cannot save themselves.  They believe they are outside the scope of religion, that their lives are too messed up for any religious figure to care about.  Jesus comes to correct that, to remind them that it was God who crafted them, that it is God who loves them, and that it is God who wants to save them.  Sinners are wise enough to be humble and let Jesus be Lord.  The proud want to be their own Lords.
So what will it be for you?  Will you accept Christ as Lord, and recognize that you cannot save yourself?  Will you be wise enough to be humble, to accept the love of God that does what we cannot?
If we are willing to be this humble, we then understand that we are led forth in humility.  Once we see ourselves as sinners who need to be saved, we are then able to understand our position as servants of others.  When we humbly see ourselves as sinful and broken, the brokenness of others is no longer an obstacle.  When we are proud, we look down on the sins of others.  When we are humble, we see ourselves reflected in the sins of others, and we recognize our common humanity, our unity as sinners, and how important it is that we remind each other of the central truth of a Savior who sees us, who comes to us, and who invites us into life everlasting.

Let us pray 

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