Sermon Tone Analysis

Matthew’s Memories of Jesus* - No. 02.

“Matthew’s Job Interview”

Matthew 9:9-13

Bothwell and Clachan, June 8, 2008*

* *

*INTRODUCTION*

I want to dive right into the Bible and then travel all the way to Hawaii, return to the Bothwell Youth Group and then take one last look into the Baptistry.

*Jesus Interviews Matthew: Matthew 9:9-13*

Ralph Milton, a Canadian writer, comments on these verses from Matthew 9:9-13 in his ‘e-zine’ RUMORS.

He writes:  One of the continuing problems we have, reading the stories from the Bible, is that they were told and written for an audience that was (very) familiar with the laws and customs involved…I have problems with that, because it (creates) the idea that only those who have an education in biblical stuff can really understand what these stories mean.

(But here today, we *DO* need to know, that) these verses involve a bunch of purity laws and Jesus’ attitude to them.

Matthew, as a tax collector, was regarded as “unclean.”

So were the bunch that Jesus was eating with...(In doing this) Jesus was plowing right upstream against (these) Jewish law(s) and customs.

But it’s not just knowing about those customs, it’s also knowing how important they were to the Jewish people.

The(y) (believed that the heart) of (their) faith was not (just) a matter of what you believed, but of what you did.

Jesus’ attitude his and actions seemed (uncaring) and insulting.

And let’s not assume that the Pharisees were a bunch of beady-eyed bigots.

Some of them were.

But others were sincere people struggling to live the way they thought God wanted them to live.

What Jesus did (in giving Matthew a job interview and then attending his banquet) felt like a karate chop to the solar plexus."[1]

*Jesus is Bigger than “Culture”*

Why would that have been so against the culture of Jesus’ day?

Well, first, Jesus paid attention to Matthew, who just happened to be a hated “tax-collector.”

Now today some of you may have issues with how much you pay in tax or how it is calculated, but I do not think that you personally despise the actual worker who is just doing their job.

Not so in Jesus day.

To translate some of their attitude of extreme contempt into our day how would you feel if Jesus took time to invite a pimp or a drug dealer to be one of his disciples.

Try to think of someone who is deliberately hurting or living off of people.

And please don’t get too smug and say “/Oh, Jesus loves everyone/.”

Yes, he does, but would you really like to have one of these dudes show up here on a Sunday morning and to immediately be made a Deacon and start serving you Communion?

In relating this story of his job interview with Jesus, Matthew shows that he was just like those four fishermen, Peter, Andrew James and John, who had also earlier responded */immediately /* to a call to /follow/ Jesus.

He too left his profession behind and began a new life.

Maybe if he had left it at that it would have been OK…but then Matthew does the unthinkable.

He hosted a “Tony Campolo” type dinner party for all of his so-called “sinful” friends, so that they might have a chance to follow Jesus.

The place would have been filled with */outcasts of Jewish society/*.

Many of these would have also made their living in a less than rep-u-table manner.

(Matthew 21:31, 32).

But Matthew’s joy at being accepted by Jesus knew no bounds.

He desperately wanted his constantly scorned friends to have a taste of Jesus’ acceptance.

But what was so confusing to the “very” religious people who were watching was that they could not understand how, or why, Jesus could participate in a gathering of people who were so at odds with the revered Mosaic law.

*/Their criticism of Jesus implied that he was compromising his convictions and condoning the lifestyles of these people by eating with them.*[2]*/*

*“The Kingdom of God Is a Party”*

Tony Campolo tells of a similar “Matthew” type party in his book “The Kingdom of God Is a Party.”

Now I must warn you, this illustration is a bit long, so please put your trays into the upright position, and fasten your seatbelts as we jet off to exotic Hawaii.

Campolo writes:  After landing that night in Honolulu I finally found a little place that was still open at 3 am.

I went in, took a seat on one of the counter stools, and waited to be served.

I didn’t even want to touch the dirty menu.

I was afraid that if I did something gruesome would crawl out.

The fat guy behind the counter came over and asked, "What d'ya want?"

I said I wanted a cup of coffee and a donut.

He poured the coffee, wiped his grimy hand on his smudged apron, and then grabbed a donut off the shelf behind him.

I really would have appreciated it if he had used a pair of tongs and placed my donut on some wax paper.

I sat there munching my donut and sipping the coffee.

At 3:30 in the morning, the door of the diner suddenly swung open and, in marched eight or nine provocative and boisterous prostitutes.

It was a very small diner.

They sat on either side of me.

Feeling completely out of place, I was just about to make my getaway when I overheard the woman beside me say, "Tomorrow's my birthday.

I'm going to be 39."

Her so-called "friend" responded in a nasty tone, "So what do you want from me?

A birthday party?“

 

"Come on," said the woman sitting next to me.

"Do you have to be so mean?

I was just telling you, that's all.

I've never had a birthday party in my whole life.

Why should I have one now?"

When I heard that, I made a decision.

After the women had left I called over the guy behind the counter, and I asked him, "The one right next to me, does she come here every night?"

"Yeah!" he said.

"That's Agnes.

Why d'ya wanta know?"

"Because I heard her say that tomorrow is her birthday.

What do you think about us throwing a birthday party for her—right here—tomorrow night?"

A smile slowly crossed his chubby cheeks, and he answered with measured delight, "That's great!

I like it!”

His wife came out of the back room all bright and smiley.

She said, "That's wonderful!

Agnes is one of those people who is really nice and kind, but nobody does anything nice and kind for her."

"Look," I told them, "if it's okay with you, I'll get back here tomorrow morning about 2:30 and decorate the place.

I'll even get a birthday cake!"

 

"No way," said Harry (that was his name).

"The birthday cake's my thing.

I'll make the cake."

So at 2:30 the next morning, I was back at the diner.

I had made a sign out of big pieces of cardboard that read, "Happy Birthday, Agnes!"

I then decorated the diner from one end to the other.

It looked great!

Harry’s wife, who did the cooking, got the word out on the street, because by 3:15 it seemed as if every prostitute in Honolulu was packed into the place.

It was wall-to-wall prostitutes…and me!

 

Then at 3:30 on the dot, the door of the diner swung open, and in came Agnes and her friend.

I had everybody ready, so when they came in we all screamed, "Happy birthday!"

I have never seen a person so flabbergasted…so stunned…so shaken.

As she was led to one of the stools along the counter, we all sang.

And as we came to the end of our singing with "Happy birthday, dear Agnes, Happy birthday to you," her eyes moistened.

Then, when the birthday cake with all the candles on it was carried out, she lost it and just openly cried.

Harry had to blow out the candles.

When it came time to cut the cake, Agnes hesitantly asked if she could take it home to show her family.

She knew they wouldn’t believe that someone would give her a party unless they saw the cake.

Harry shrugged and answered, "Sure!

It's O.K. Take it, if you want to."

Then, looking at me, she said, "I live just down the street a couple of doors.

I'll be right back.

Honest!"