Tuesday, June 11, 2013

A Tax Collector's Tale



Mark 2:13-17

Jesus Calls Levi and Eats With Sinners

13 Once again Jesus went out beside the lake. A large crowd came to him, and he began to teach them. 14 As he walked along, he saw Levi son of Alphaeus sitting at the tax collector’s booth. “Follow me,” Jesus told him, and Levi got up and followed him.
15 While Jesus was having dinner at Levi’s house, many tax collectors and sinners were eating with him and his disciples, for there were many who followed him. 16 When the teachers of the law who were Pharisees saw him eating with the sinners and tax collectors, they asked his disciples: “Why does he eat with tax collectors and sinners?”
17 On hearing this, Jesus said to them, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.”

http://www.biblegateway.com
 

My latest piece of artistic ramblings involves the story of Matthew Levi in the Bible.  Our pastor did a sermon on Jesus’ first encounter with the young tax collector and as he preached away I took notes.  Somewhere in the midst of taking sermon notes it turned into a story… and a couple jotted paragraphs in my journal turned into pages on my computer…

Here goes:

Matthew Levi was quite proud of his little tax booth along the road from the lake.  He’d had to work really hard to get it. Most people hated this little booth but to Matthew it meant comfort and security and the ability to provide for himself in his later years.  He’d had to give up a lot along the way; he’d lost family and friends over his decision to pursue this career but he acted like that didn’t bother him.  And when it did he reminded himself that he had a big house, servants and a retirement plan to make up for it. He was “living the life”- as they say..or so he thought. 
 
He rose quite early that morning convinced that this day was going to be an excellent day for him!  He had heard that there was a traveling preacher in town, and though Matthew wasn’t especially religious- oh, he almost laughed at the thought!  He wasn’t religious at all!  He didn’t even pretend to be!  Nonetheless, he looked forward to the preacher’s arrival like a kid looked forward to a holiday.

The traveling preacher meant more people and more people meant more money for him.  It was a win-win situation but he wasn’t interested in preachers.  He’d watched the preachers come and go.  Some came preaching the law- a person had to follow it TO. THE. LETTER.    They were really more concerned with appearing holy than the actual practice of it which seemed to Matthew like a pure waste of time.  

Then others came preaching a radical overthrow of the government.  But back in those days- preachers like that could end up at the pointy end of a sword if they weren’t careful so their popularity waxed and waned according to the economic situation at the time.  Right then, Matthew knew- times were hard.  People were desperate and looking for something more.  It created a perfect climate for not only the second kind of preacher but the third and final type of preacher to move onto the scene.  

They were the most likely to become an overnight success because they promised prosperity. They were the ones who seemed more interested in their own financial empire than in saving souls.  They wanted you to plant ‘seeds of faith’ and in return for such shows of faith they would promise the moon… but never deliver.  This was Matthew’s least favorite kind of preacher because at least the other two did things out of a sincere (although misguided at times) conviction.  The last category was just out for themselves and that made them just like Matthew- although Matthew considered himself more honest.  

At least he didn’t pretend. He was a tax collector.  He worked for the hated government.  He was the lackey for “the man” that kept everybody else down.  He was a traitor to his people and his own name. He’d been called every name in the book and then some. He had sold himself for money, he knew it.  He admitted it.  Somewhere along the way his greed got the better of him and he was here, ostracized by those around him, and rightly so.  He took more than his share.  He had to make a living, and considering what he’d had to give up to get this job- he needed to be rewarded- richly.  Besides that, someone had to do it, and he figured, better him than some Gentile.   

So when the crowds started gathering for yet another traveling preacher, Matthew wasn’t impressed.  He waited in his booth for the gimmick, to see the suckers walking back dejected before they pressed their coins into his hands.  Served them right, losers, they shouldn’t let themselves be so easily duped.  

The crowds followed the Preacher down to the lake and Matthew stayed in his booth and did not even cast a disinterested eye on the proceedings. 

He didn’t even care to get a look at this charlatan, why waste his time?  He drummed his fingers and waited during the revival meeting until a rather strange looking man jogged past.  Matthew watched him with a semi-amused expression on his face and it wasn’t until he’d already passed by that he realized:  He didn’t stop to pay his taxes!  Matthew started to call out to him, reprimand him, but then he stopped short and clamped his mouth shut.  The man was jumping and laughing and talking to himself.  He was prancing like a lamb in a field and there were only two things that made people act that way.  It was too early to get drunk and the other was some sort of madness.  He acted a bit too strangely for Matthew’s practical tastes and he just watched the peculiar sight with stunned silence.  

There was a Preacher in town, and anytime there was one of their sort visiting there would be those who would bring their sick.  Matthew recoiled, studying the tattered and dirty rags he was wearing- he couldn’t possibly have anything to tax and Matthew was afraid of what did have- he might share instead.  No, he shook his head and let him go on, keep his malady to himself.  He didn’t need money that badly, thank you very much.  The crowds stayed away for a long time but when the people streamed back by his booth, he heard the news about the strange man.  

To Matthew’s surprise, he knew that man.  Well, not knew, but he had seen that man.  He’d walked by that man every day, begging on the side of the road. His legs were shriveled like little raisins, hardly as big as a child’s legs but Matthew had done his best to ignore him, much the same way people ignored him when he wasn’t in his booth.   Good heavens, could it be that could have been the same man?  Could it be some sort of trick?  The people said it was a miracle, a real miracle!  Like those stories of the prophets of old… Matthew was a born skeptic but he’d seen this miracle dance right by his booth!  

So the next evening the crowds were bigger than ever, and after they disappeared down by the lake Matthew gathered his money purse and crept down to the edge of the throng to see this new celebrity. 
He wasn’t impressed at the looks of him.  He wasn’t any older than Matthew himself, and he was thin as a pole.  He imagined that a good wind could knock him over, and he wore homespun clothes that seemed a bit too big for his thin frame and his hair was a bit long for his tastes. He wondered who in the world told this guy he could be a Teacher.  He certainly didn’t look the part but there was something fascinating about him.  Matthew couldn’t quite put his finger on it- but when he spoke you wanted to listen.  People liked him; they wanted to be around him.  There was something about him that either drew people or deterred people, but either way you still felt compelled to him.  That was why the crowds were so large, he supposed. 

 Matthew could not get very close, the people pressed in from every side, so close that it was hard to breathe.  There were all kinds of people there.  The people with their sick, carried on mats or in carts or hobbling on crutches, with a look of timid hope in their eyes.  Could he do something to help?  They seemed to wonder, could this man be a prophet like they say?  Could he stop the pain?  

Then there were the searchers, and the dreamers.  They came looking for a word from a God who had been silent for around 400 years. Hoping and praying that this young preacher would stand like Josiah and read the words of the covenant and draw the hearts and minds of the people back to God.  They stood with moist eyes and eager anticipation in their hearts, ready and willing for God to move in their midst.

Then there were the skeptics who came claiming that all this was a scam, trying their best to figure how it was done. They studied his every move, hoping the magician would reveal his tricks.  They were to be sorely disappointed that day.   Along beside the skeptics sat the spectators.  They were just bored and wanted a show.  They brought picnic lunches and made a day of it; hoping perhaps there would be a miracle for them to see.  Maybe he’d make fire come down or bring some widow’s son come back to life or make an axe float for their enjoyment.  They didn’t really come for the preaching as much as for the entertainment, and they clamored for something; and it needed to be big and new!

Then the last group was all standing near the front because – by golly- it was their right! It was right there in their last name for goodness sakes!  They were set apart- special- and they were used to the best in life.  More than that- they deserved the best because they were holy, and they continually reminded everyone else how holy they were.  They were the religious leaders who had come for no other reason other than to find fault with this feisty young Preacher.  Matthew figured they would find much after those with all sorts of sickness were invited forward and their spots of importance were superseded by those miserable wretches!  They were angry before the sermon even started and then they found out that he was just getting wound up! 


After the sick were healed (Yes, healed! Matthew had never dreamed of seeing such things in all his years!) The Preacher called the religious leaders out; and they stood with arrogance acknowledging themselves before the crowd.  But then he surprised them all: naming them as hypocrites and blind guides and wore them out over their self-righteousness.  Matthew had to practically bite his lip to keep from laughing at the expressions on their faces.  Most stormed away angrily before he even got into the heart of his sermon, though a few remained- no doubt to test his theology.  This young Rabbi had certainly made some enemies today; his preaching career was in jeopardy if he didn’t learn to behave!  

Matthew moved closer to see and a group of men to his right noticed him and moved away when they recognized him.   For a few minutes, he’d forgotten he was Matthew, the tax collector, and had made the mistake of assuming that he was one like any of the others.  That simple act served to remind him of who he was and that although he had certainly enjoyed hearing the Pharisees “get theirs” he shuddered to think what the Rabbi would say about tax collectors.  Good sense told him to leave now and get on back to his booth.  He had sold his soul and he had no need of a preacher, but Matthew couldn’t leave.  He leaned in to hear his words, and the stories he told were about lost sheep and lost coins and rebellious sons and he found that he just could not leave as long as the man was speaking.  They were simple stories, yes, told by the son of a carpenter, but there was so much meaning found inside them, so simple that the youngest child could understand, yet so complex that a man could ponder over the mystery of them for days to come.   They were all about something that Matthew had given up hope for in his life.  The stories spoke to his heart and whispered an impossible hope: that God still loved him, still wanted him and perhaps was looking for him to return.  
Matthew returned to his home only to realize how empty it really was.  The preacher’s stories lingered in his heart and mind long after he retired to his bed.  

The next morning Matthew didn’t care so much about the taxes, he pushed through the day, the preacher’s words still lingering in his heart, and found himself looking forward to the time the crowds would form and he would slip away to stand on the fringe and listen to the Preacher.  This time he moved closer, and the people made a way for him, almost as if he had the plague.  There was a twitter of gossip moving from lip to lip this day, “The Master is looking to choose a new disciple.”  Someone whispered to someone close enough to Matthew, but not to him.  

No one ever spoke to a tax collector unless they were forced to.  

This afternoon went as the previous had, the healing, the angered religious leaders, the stories, but this time Matthew was close enough that as the Teacher spoke his eyes rested on Matthew. He gazed at him, tilted his head as if perplexed.  Like he knew him long ago but had almost forgotten his face and name. Matthew felt pure dread strike his heart and hardly dared to breathe but the rabbi gave him a slight nod and continued with his sermon.  

It was nothing, really, but it sent shivers through Matthew.

He knows me.  He concluded.  He knows what I am.  What am I doing here?  Pretending I’m a normal Jew like all the others- like I haven’t sold out my heritage for money?   What would he say to a tax collector?  I’ve pushed my luck long enough.  I need to go.  But he could not. 

As he walked along that night, Matthew decided that perhaps, he didn’t need to return to the meetings. 
It was as if the Teacher could see right into him.  He wondered if the teacher knew he was the tax collector.  Perhaps not.  He had dodged him earlier; perhaps it was all his imagination.  Besides, he didn’t like the way he felt when the Teacher looked at him.  He knew he was in the presence of a Holy Man and that realization made him keenly aware of how sinful he was.  He wanted to hide himself away from the eyes that seemed to look right into Matthew’s soul.  It was just too weird, too uncomfortable. No.  I don’t need to return tomorrow.     

The next day was particularly busy, for there was a caravan come from some faraway place to sell their wares.  Their camels laden with goods, people milled about, the air was filled with the sounds and sights of a marketplace.  He had talked himself out of going to see the teacher today.  He would be far too busy, but still there was something inside him that longed to go.  He pushed the thoughts out of his head and went about his business, almost succeeding in forgetting about the Preacher and his followers.  But then the crowds grew heavy, and Matthew realized too late, that the crowds were not here for the caravan just down by the lake.  They were following the teacher!  He didn’t have time to duck away; he didn’t have time to pretend not to notice.  Matthew looked up and the Teacher was standing just a few feet away and Matthew was rooted to his place as the Rabbi turned and looked his way.  

The crowds parted in front of the teacher; Matthew imagined much like Moses parting the red sea and he looked right at Matthew.  

The crowd waited in eager anticipation.  They seemed almost giddy!  The tax collector! Could there be a better example of everything that was wrong with society than this greedy little man standing in his booth right in front of them?  Matthew took a breath and steeled himself for the onslaught.  This teacher had already enraged all the religious leaders, he was due, he figured.  It would be a good move for him, and he couldn’t say he blamed him for what he was about to do.  No one was hated more than the tax collector, and if he wanted to win followers he wouldn’t have any mercy on such a sinner. 
 
The sudden thought struck Matthew that there was nothing he could do, besides stand there and take it- the people would stare and laugh but there would be no defending against his righteous condemnation.  Every charge he laid against him would be true and that was the best case scenario.  The worst- he shuddered to think- he had seen him heal the sick.  He could do as the Prophets of old and call down fire to consume evil tax collector and his booth!


Wouldn’t there be a party in town if that happened?  He thought grimly.  

A thin trickle of sweat coursed down the side of his face and despite the heat, he trembled and waited for the words that would condemn him.  He dropped his eyes; suddenly aware that he was not even worthy to look upon him.  

The crowds waited as well, barely daring to breath, leaning in to catch every succulent word that this fiery Preacher would say.  The one who called the Pharisees vipers and hypocrites- the cousin of the Baptizer- what would he say to this traitor?  This dog? 

Matthew Levi could hear his own heart beating as the noise from the crowd died to nothing and the Teacher opened his mouth.  He waited; they waited in utter silence and anticipation of his words.

“Follow me.”  

Matthew blinked; surely he was mistaken.  Those weren’t the words he was supposed to say!  He lifted his eyes cautiously.  Perhaps, the teacher was speaking to someone else.  

The eyes of the sinner met those of the Messiah and Matthew was amazed that what he saw there was not condemnation.

It was compassion.

He had said “Follow me.”  The crowds stood in stunned silence, uncomprehending for several uncomfortable seconds.  

Then their glee turned to anger almost as quickly- their fun spoiled. There was an audible gasp of horror from those all around him. The rumors had been true; the master had indeed chosen a new disciple.  Why him?  Their shocked expressions seemed to cry out.  He’s a tax collector, a traitor!  Matthew Levi could see the faces of those who had pledged to follow him only moments earlier, turn from adoration to anger and disillusionment.  The Rabbi had made a bad move, for every good politician knew better than to anger their constituency.  

The Rabbi turned and walked away then, knowing full well that many hearts had turned away from him that day.  

But one… one had turned to him!  Matthew realized suddenly that he was the lost sheep, the lost coin, the rebellious son and there was only one thing he could do!

                                                                                                            
Levi found that his feet would move and before he could even think about what he was doing he dropped his money purse and stepped away from the tax booth.  At that moment while the whole town looked on in stunned silence- he didn’t think about his job, his house, what his supervisor would say, how much trouble he would be in for in the morning.  All he knew that was the master had called him- out of hundreds- any one of them more worthy than himself- but he had chosen Matthew Levi! That was all that mattered!  He fell into place behind the Master leaving the piles of money unattended.  

                                                        
There was a roar from behind him as the once angry crowd leapt upon his booth, overturning it in their anger, and then just as quickly they turned jubilant at the prospect of free money.  Matthew marveled at how quickly this man in front of him could turn the emotions of a crowd!   The money clinked and scattered as the crowds surged forward in a frenzy grappling and fighting for the coins that fell to the dusty street.  The Master slipped quietly through them as they struggled for the coins- the symbol of a once sinful life- and none of them noticed that he had gone… Not one from the crowd followed the Master that day besides the most unlikely.  

Besides his new disciple.  Matthew Levi.  The tax collector.