Matthew

Homily, Matthew
Second Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 5A, 2023
Good Shepherd Episcopal Church
Tequesta, FL

The Rev. Derek M Larson, TSSF

Today’s Lectionary Readings:

Genesis 12:1-9
Psalm 33:1-12
Romans 4:13-25
Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Matthew. He would have been 46 years old this year, but his life was cut short in 1998 at the age of twenty-one. He grew up as a child of two loving parents and a little brother. He was creative. He loved acting and learning languages. He believed in the importance of equity and equality and was profoundly empathetic. Matthew was also gay and experienced more than his fair share of bullying, shaming, and harassment. It was something that he carried with him everywhere. And try as he might to let it go, sometimes those voices of all the haters around him would seep into his soul, so that he couldn’t always distinguish their voices from his own. And though he continued to look for healing, one horrific night, Matthew Shepard’s life was taken from him by those who sought to shame him before he could fully find that healing.  

It’s a story that is all too common. And while we’ve certainly made progress, people still die everyday at the hands of hate and shame. And even those of us who survive, we often carry within us the voices of hate and shame. Voices that say we’re not smart enough. We’re not good enough. We’re not Christian enough. We’re not natural. We’re not beautiful. We’re not strong. Voices that say it’s all our fault. That we’re nothing more than our mistakes. That we are nothing more than sinners. And when we continue to carry with us those voices that have seeped down into our psyche, it’s hard for even the voices of encouragement and affirmation to cast them out. 

We have all had experiences of being shamed, and some of us, like Matthew, more than our fair share. 

Today’s gospel lesson is about just that. In it we encounter a gathering, a party, a feast of friends enjoying the company of one another when outside the fingers start wagging and the voices start chattering. “How could you hang out with them? Do you know what they are? Do you know what they do? You ought to be ashamed for even being in the same room as them.” So spoke the Pharisees as Jesus spent time with his new friend, Matthew, and his community.

The Pharisees called them “sinners,” and both the narrator and Jesus pick up their word, though the passage is unclear as to what makes them sinners, or if they are actually sinners at all. In the ancient Greek world, the word for “sinners,” hamartalos, was more derogatory than descriptive. It was used to shame people and group them into stigmatized classes of judgement, which is exactly what the Pharisees are doing here. In the Pharisees’ words there is nothing said about this community’s actions; there is only shaming. Perhaps this group of people were no more sinners than anyone else. We don’t know. But whether or not they sinned is really irrelevant, because this passage is not actually about sin, but about people, and how we treat them. 

While the Pharisees looked at Matthew and his friends and saw people to hate, Jesus saw people to love. While the Pharisees saw people to stay away from, Jesus saw friends to share a table with. While the Pharisees were looking for people to condemn, Jesus saw people looking for healing. And so Jesus offered them compassion and empathy. Unlike the Pharisees, when Jesus looked at this group of people, he saw beloved friends.

I wonder what we would see if we looked at ourselves through the eyes of Jesus rather than our haters. If we looked at ourselves through the eyes of Jesus, would we see shame? Or would we see dignity? If we looked through the eyes of Jesus, would we see our mistakes? Or would we see God’s masterpiece? If we looked through the eyes of Jesus, would we see someone to hate? Or would we see someone to love?

I wonder what we would see if we looked at others through the eyes of Jesus rather than eyes of judgment and condemnation. How might we treat others differently? How might we find ourselves in different company? How might we find beloved friends in places we never expected? That’s what this passage is about. 

In the years since Matthew Shepard’s death, his story has become a call to the work of erasing hate in the world around us. In his honor his parents started the Matthew Shepard Foundation, a foundation dedicated to changing hearts and minds to embrace the dignity and equality of all people (you can find out more about their work on their website). And in doing this work, they are following the steps of Jesus and feasting with those who have too often been shamed for some aspect of their identity. And by their example we are also called to follow in Jesus’ footsteps. Because even after 25 years, there are still hearts and minds to change. There are still those in need of healing from the shame they’ve been forced to carry. There is still compassion to be given. 

In closing I’d like to go back to the gospel for a moment. Shortly after Jesus’ meal with Matthew and his friends, he encountered another person. A woman in need of healing. We do not know her whole story. It is unclear whether she was also hated. It is unclear whether she was also on the margins of society. It is unclear whether she was also deemed a “sinner.” But we do know she came to Jesus quietly. And approached him from behind rather than directly to his face. Perhaps there was something in her spirit that had also been broken. Perhaps she also carried some sense of shame which prevented her from finding the words to say. But she also had determination. She had belief. She had conviction. And so she quietly touched the fringe of Jesus’ cloak. And when Jesus noticed, he turned around and called her not by the name “sinner,” but “daughter.” And looking into her eyes he spoke to her. “Take heart,” he said. Tharseo in Greek. It’s better translated as “Be confident. Be bold. Be courageous. Take PRIDE.” 

Friends, may you not be bent under the weight of shame. But may you take PRIDE in who you are as Jesus sees you: beloved. Amen.