Dear Theophilus,
I can’t imagine what it was like
for those religious elites who were seated around the room, watching Jesus
confound their expectations. They must
have been frustrated beyond belief, to watch miracles untold and hear others
praising God, while they wanted to have Jesus cast out of the village, out of
their world, but could find no good reason to do so. Jesus seemed to enjoy needling them, riling
up their defenses, and they must have bristled every time they overheard a
conversation of people amazed at what he was doing. They were so certain he was a fraud, worthy
of death, and yet they could find nothing to confirm this suspicion.
I fear having such cemented
expectations, that I know exactly what I am going to find when I read these
accounts of his life. I am not certain
where this expedition ends, but I want to have an open mind, to let the words
and actions of Jesus speak for themselves, rather than meeting my own certainty
about where they will lead. Jesus lived
an amazing life—there is no debate about that.
How amazing, and how it impacts me today, is a question worthy of
pursuing without expectation. If those
religious elites had been able to set aside their certainty that they knew
everything there was to know about Jesus, they may have found a very different
man than the one they were so violently opposed to. I’m sure the ire of the Pharisees is a well
to which we will return again and again as we explore the life of Jesus of
Nazareth.
I have learned that Jesus did not
go and celebrate this triumph over the Pharisees as you or I might have
done. I can picture myself at a large
party, toasting the Pharisees and the bewildered look on their faces as I have
a laugh at their expense. Instead, he
was passing by a tax booth and saw a collector named Levi. He called the man to follow him, and Levi
left everything behind to do just that.
Theophilus, I can’t help but wonder
if you or I would respond the same way to the call of Jesus. If we were busy at our employment, and he
walked up, would we sense an urge to follow the man? Did everyone who Jesus called follow him, or
do we only have accounts of the few that chose to do so? Jesus would have had a massive following if
his power was overwhelming in the sense that none could resist his call, and
yet it’s hard to imagine refusing the bidding of one who is clearly so
powerful? Maybe it is a question of
inertia—maybe some are so set in their course that even a bidding from one with
authority as everyone said Jesus has can be resisted by a desire for comfort
and a certainty about what life holds. I
imagine some weighing the call of Jesus versus the life they lead, one that may
not be filled with highlights but puts a roof over the head and food on the
table. Did people resist the call
because they didn’t want to take the risk?
Or did Jesus only call those who he knew would answer? I can’t help but wonder, particularly as I
wonder if Jesus calls me, if Jesus only approaches those with the right
makeup. Was Levi one of the few that
answered, or one of the few that was called?
After Levi left his tax booth to
follow Jesus, it’s said that he gave a huge banquet for Jesus at his
house. I’m sure you know the type—the
one that starts small and grows larger by the minute. Levi was so overwhelmed by the call of Jesus
that he invited everyone he knew, and by the time they had called everyone they
knew there was a huge crowd of tax collectors and others gathered around the
table with Jesus. For those who like to
paint Jesus as the epitome of holiness by isolating him in the church, it could
be tough to meld that image with Jesus as the center of a massive party with
every type of individual pressing in on him for attention. But perhaps the idea of what is holy is what
is distorted—maybe, by the life he chose to live, Jesus is trying to help
people see more than just the church as holy.
Maybe Jesus is trying to help us understand that dinner parties and
festivals can be holy, too. I don’t
think that much of the activity I hear about from my friends is holy, but
they’re not aiming for that, either. I
just think that locking Jesus up in the church doesn’t seem to be the right
type of behavior. At this particular
party, those same Pharisees and scribes noticed his behavior and were rather
offended by it.
They complained to some of those
Jesus had called, wondering why he was eating and drinking with sinners. Jesus overheard their backbiting comments and
replied to them with his wisdom. “The
well don’t call the doctor, but the sick are in desperate need of one. I have not come for the righteous, but have
come in hopes that sinners might repent.”
Doubtless this quieted them down
for bit. It’s easy to imagine the
disciples staring at the Pharisees, waiting for a reply. In the meantime, I wonder where the line is for
us. Jesus seemed constantly surrounded
by crowds, and he seemed at home at dinner parties as well as in the
synagogue. I wonder what type of
violence has been done to religion by trying to restrain so much of the
celebratory life that might happen at such events. Perhaps the church would be wise to recognize
beauty in the world the same way that Jesus did—not in celebrating raucous
behavior, but in enjoying each other’s company.
The Pharisees did manage to come up
with a reply. They referenced John’s
disciples, and questioned why it was proper for them to fast and pray while
Jesus’ disciples seemed to spend more time eating and drinking. I must admit, Theophilus, it’s a fair
question—this does seem to be a leap away from what you or I would consider
religious behavior.
Jesus reply is one that I have not
managed to make complete sense out of.
He told them that wedding guests never fast while the bridegroom is
there, and that there will be a day when he will be taken, and fasting will be
appropriate in those days. I suppose,
Theophilus, that he was referring to himself.
He went on to tell a story about how no one would ever tear a piece of
fabric off a new garment to affix it to and old one, for the new one would be
torn and the fabrics would never match.
Jesus also used this analogy with wineskins—no one puts new wine into
old skins, or else the wine will be ruined when the skins burst. New wine goes into new wineskins, and this
wine is preferable to the old.
I can’t say that I’ve made total
sense of this statement, but I suppose it refers straight back to the idea of
Jesus at a dinner party—like the Pharisees, I’m unable to make sense of what I
do not expect. It seems to make sense
that Jesus would spend his time in the temple praying, but he has come to
change everything, and we should be willing to go along with these
changes. We need to have open minds, as
hard as that can be, and recognize that Jesus will act in ways unexpected. It all seems a bit much for a man like
myself, trying to venture out but not certain that I’m ready for the rules to
change before I’ve even begun to play by them!
I hope you can make sense of this
all for me, Theophilus. I depend upon
your guidance for this lost soul. I’m on
board with Jesus when he talks about letting religion out of the church, that
we might begin to find God at work in dinner parties and other celebrations of
life, but I’m not sure exactly where to draw lines, about how to understand all
of this.
Sincerely,
Luke
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