Alongside the Community Church of Durham
Sunday, November 10, 2019
Mark 2:13-22
1.
So watch how this goes.
Jesus finds Levi sitting in the tax
booth. Levi’s probably like a hundred
other Jewish kids in the Galilee. Raised
in a synagogue. Steeped in the
prayers. Collaborating with the Romans. But Jesus doesn’t light him up. And Jesus doesn’t rail against Levi’s
politics. No, Jesus invites Levi to
follow, to step onto a very particular path, with a very particular community.
Jesus does not rebuke Levi’s language
(HEY LEVI: YOU’RE NOT WOKE ENOUGH!) or call out Levi on Twitter (HEY LEVI: YOU’RE
SUCH A COLLABORATOR!). No, Jesus simply,
directly, with very little nuance, says: “Hey Levi: Follow me!”
And this is exactly the way it is, this is
precisely the way it all begins. Not
with some precise and limiting orthodoxy.
Not with some rigid fundamentalist dogma. For Levi, and for all the rest of us, Jesus sows
the seeds of faith, of courage, of discipleship, with just two words. “Follow me!”
And it’s so important for us to
recognize this morning that Jesus did not have a new religion in mind, or
conversion to a new belief system either.
What Jesus clearly intends here—from the beginning—is communal. He suggests that Levi follow in his steps;
that Levi follow in a community of other practitioners; that Levi join a
beloved community very much within the Jewish tradition of lovingkindness,
jubilee justice and generous sharing.
Let’s call it “tikkun olam”—repairing the world.
2.
And immediately—not almost immediately,
but right away—that practice takes shape in Levi’s life. He’s not asked to move to some faraway
place. He’s not to give everything away
and live on rice and beans. No, Levi’s encouraged,
no directed really, to throw a dinner party.
This, Jesus seems to say, THIS will be the cornerstone of your practice,
your discipleship, your new life. Tikkun
Olam: and for Levi (at least) the healing of the planet, the mending of the
torn, discipleship begins with a dinner party.
And for us, for the 21st
century church, I think this provokes some soul searching. Because it’s not so obvious, not so easy
anymore. The frantic pace of our lives,
the loaded schedules of our kids, the hyper-digital quality of our social lives:
it’s not easy to prioritize table fellowship for most of us; it’s not so easy
even to invite folks we know and love into our homes for supper, prayer and
conversation. I don’t know about you
all, but I find there’s an aching in most of our hearts: an aching for
fellowship and warm bread, an aching for generous hospitality and easy conversation.
By the way, I’m working with our Church
Council to put together a Small Group Initiative in Lent next year. In February.
I’m suggesting we call this initiative “Roots and Wings”—the idea being
that small groups gathering for weekly conversation can strengthen the roots of
our faith, and do so in such a way that faith itself takes flight (that’s the
wings part!) in self-care, lovingkindness and action.
Watch for it. The Lenten Initiative is rooted—very much so—in
today’s text: in Jesus’ insistence that Levi gather a bunch of folks in his
home, around his table, for fellowship, for conversation, probably even for
prayer. The foundation of Levi’s new practice,
his new spirituality, is this kind of hospitality, spaciousness and
communion. Even, in this case at least,
right there in his home. He doesn’t have
to go anywhere. It all begins right
there in his home.
4.
Of course, Jesus’ practice pushes the
edge of that practice, and invites new configurations of communion and
community. Jesus insists on table
fellowship that welcomes other tax collectors, or even other Roman
collaborators. Jesus insists that Levi
invite and welcome folks who are marked somehow for the mistakes they’ve made,
or suspect perhaps for the candidates they’ve endorsed, or even feared for the
illnesses they bear. You heard the
reading. “Sinners and tax collectors—oh my!” “Sinners and tax collectors—oh my!”
Jesus coaches Levi, mentors Levi, loves
Levi into gathering a wildly new kind of dinner party. God’s dinner party! At the table of grace. For conversation about forgiveness, and
meaningful change. For discussion around
the mistakes we make, how we name them and claim them and overcome them. For connection, prayer and new commitments to
a beloved community. On earth as it is
in heaven! Tikkun Olam!
5.
And this sets the teeth of the old guard
on edge: The Pharisees, the Scribes, the old trustees and keepers of the
keys! This just sets their teeth on edge! Sinners?
Collaborators? Racists? Sexists?
Are you serious, Jesus? You’re set
on building and beloved community, a movement of spirit, a justice-loving church—with
this crowd at the table? Are you
serious?
And, of course, Jesus says, YES! Exactly.
My whole purpose among you is to reach out in love to the lost, to the
broken, to the cruel and the mixed-up!
That’s what this thing is all about: roots and wings. Roots that connect every one of us to God’s
deepest mercy, God’s deepest love; and wings that rise into the world with
grace, kindness, bold conviction and courage.
I come to do that with you, Jesus says.
I come to do that with this crowd.
6.
And of course—and we know this—of course
it turns out that we’re all lost in some way or another. It’s not just the racist collaborators, or
the homophobic bullies at school. There’s
a wound in every one of our hearts—or three or five—and it severs our roots, at
some point, and we get lost.
So pay attention here. Because Jesus’ vision seems to be: a beloved
community where we’re all growing, where we’re all human, where our fallibility
itself is a gift and an opening for the light to find us, for growth and
maturity to move us. Yes, the sinners
marked by the Scribes for their sins: the ex-convicts perhaps, or the opiate
addicts, or the illegal immigrants, or whoever else the pundits of the day mark
for special derision and blame. But not
just them: all of us! Because prejudice
and brokenness and hurt runs in all human blood—and we all turn out to be every
bit as hungry for mercy, every bit as open to conversion, every bit as achy for
grace, as anyone else.
And here’s the gospel truth. At Levi’s table, at Jesus’ table, at the
church’s table, we’re all in this together.
7.
And that, my friends, is the new wineskin. Don’t you see? The old wineskins divide the good from the
bad, the woke from the wretched, the hip from the uninformed. The old skins set up this churchy vibe where
you’re either on the INSIDE of God’s plan or on the OUTSIDE looking in. The old skins set up this expectation that
the whole point of discipleship, of Christianity, of JESUS—is getting the lost
into the circle of the saved.
But—no—what’s happening at Levi’s house
flips the old church on its ear. The
whole point—now. The whole point—in the
gospel. The whole point with Jesus is
communion! Jesus’ movement invites one
and all to the same table, for the same supper, for the same sacrament.
The addicts are serving the social
workers here. And the students are
serving the academics here. The ex-cons
are filling the wine glasses of the Sunday School teachers. And runaway refugees are breaking bread for
pastors and prophets. There is no us and
them. There is no saved and
unsaved. There is no woke and unwoke. At Levi’s table, at Jesus’ table, we learn
form one another. We touch and we heal
one another. And by God’s grace, we are
saved and whole and blessed together!
Amen!
