Tag: Matthew

Jeff Garrison
Bluemont and Mayberry Churches
November 15, 2020
Matthew 23:13-38
©2020

At the beginning of worship:

            I warned you last week; we’re spending two weeks in the 23^rd Chapter of Matthew. It’s a difficult chapter. Jesus deliverers a pulpit-pounding sermon. In the middle of this sermon are seven woes. For each, Jesus lifts up particular actions of the seemingly religious folks. He then condemns their hypocrisy.

The passage ends with a mournful lament for Jerusalem. This city stoned the prophets and will, in a few days, crucify the Messiah. Jesus’ lament demonstrates his great love for these misguided people. He longs to hug and care for them, but they won’t listen.

In this chapter, we see Jesus’ anger at prideful behavior and his heartbreak over the consequences of such actions. As the old cliché goes, God hates the sin and loves the sinner. 

After the Scripture Reading:

There are a lot of woes in this passage and Jesus isn’t riding a horse.[1] What’s he trying to say?

Let’s look at a few of his examples. He speaks of those who are seemingly religious going beyond what is required by the law.

Let me say this. Setting the bar higher or trying to do more than the letter of the law demands in and of itself isn’t bad. It can be commendable. Especially if we move from a strictly legalistic understanding of the law to one that captures the intent of the law.

Jesus himself does this in the Sermon on the Mount. It’s not enough just to refrain from murder. If you try to destroy a person’s reputation by calling them a fool, you’re guilty. The same is true with adultery. You don’t have to actually do the deed. Lustful thoughts make you guilty.[2]

Understand this, Jesus isn’t upset with folks going beyond what is required by the law. One example he refers to is offering a 10th of one’s garden herbs. The tithe was only expected on grain crops, oil, and wine.

What upsets Jesus is that these people make a deal out of these little things while ignoring what’s important.[3] They take pride in their good deeds, thinking it makes them better.

Jesus takes the double-love commandment, which we looked at a few weeks ago (to love God and to love your neighbor[4]) and applies it here. “Woe to you who tithe mint and dill and cumin and neglect the weightier matters of the law—justice and mercy and faith.”

Justice and mercy link to our call to love our neighbor. Faith reminds us that we’re to love the Lord.[5] Tithing, the giving a tenth of our income, although important, shouldn’t be the focus of our faith. If we elevate its importance, we risk forgetting that tithing is to be done with an attitude of thanksgiving for what God has done. We shouldn’t tithe to earn God’s favor. Nor should we make a big deal about it, like those who gave extra tithes (as if we’re in a game of spiritual one-upmanship). Jesus condemns attempts to bribe God or to put our piety on display.

A personal example:

Let me give you an example of this from my early teen years. My mother had said she wanted a particular kind of brush. I was with my dad in J. C. Fields one day and saw it. It wasn’t very expensive, a dollar or two (remember, this was nearly 50 years ago). Having mowed some neighbor’s lawns, I had money and I brought it for her. She was pleased. A day or two later as she was getting on me for something I’d done, I reminded her of my gift. She made it very clear that if the gift was a way to bribe her, I could take it back.

Intentions are important. We’re not to do good to show off for others, or to bribe God. We’re to live in gratitude for what God has done for us.

More Woes:

In the next woe, Jesus draws upon the analogy of a cup and the absurd concept that if the outside was clean, so must the inside be clean. Such people have their priorities reversed, as it’s more important to have the inside clean than the outside.

Now, before we go any further, I must confess that I may have descended from the Pharisees. Often, I overload the dishwasher and when I unload it, I’m guilty of grabbing a handful of cups or bowls and not looking inside. They get stacked in the cabinet and, on occasion, what looked to be clean on the outside isn’t so on the inside. When someone else gets one of those cups or bowls… Well, let’s just I hear about it.

Of course, that’s not exactly what Jesus is talking about here. Instead, this is similar to his expansion of the law in the Sermon on the Mount. There, Jesus equates lust and ill-placed passion with adultery. Here, Jesus refers to an uncontrolled appetite, a desire to have our cups “runneth over.”[6]

Jesus attacks the lack of self-control, along with our lusting and unhealthy desires for things. Things are not bad; in moderation most things can be good. But in excess, even good things can be bad for us.

Jesus further warns that while we might look good on the outside, our drive to over-indulge will create filth on the inside.

Jesus expands on this theme of appearing clean on the outside but being dirty on the inside with his next woe. Here, where Jesus speaks of whitewashed tombs, he’s probably drawing from a practice of covering graves and tombs with white chalk once a year, in a belief it would keep the priests from becoming unclean by accidental contact. Jesus equates these glistening white tombs to hypocrites who look nice on the outside, but inside are dead and rotting. These are harsh words for Jesus accuses those seen as “the great defenders of the law as being the main rebels against it.”[7]

Jesus’ final woe is directed at those who glorify their heritage and traditions and mistakenly believe that tradition is the same as truth. Those who are teachers of Scripture, who also kept the graves of the prophets and the righteous in top shape, believe that because they’re a part of this tradition, they too are righteous.

They believed that if they had been living in the past, they’d been the brave ones who would have stood up for what is right. They’d keep Jeremiah from being dropped in a well or stop the stoning of other prophets.

“Be careful,” Jesus warns, “what makes you think you’re so good?”

Do we think we’re better than the Pharisees?

You know, today, almost everyone in America honors Martin Luther King, but that wasn’t the case when he was alive. The establishment, our government, even the FBI, tried to find every reason they could to attack him. Admittedly, he wasn’t a perfect man (no one is), but he did a lot of good for his people.

Consider the Jews in Nazi Germany. We might think we would have stood up to such an atrocity, but would we?

How about in our own country? Would we stand up against injustices? Against slavery? Against the atrocities at Sand Creek or Wounded Knee? Against the lynching of African Americans?

To think we’d act differently than those in the past is often to give ourselves too much credit. We should instead realize we’re a part of a fallen world. We often do what is easiest and expedient and not what is right and just.

Jesus brings his sermon to a close, following his last woe, with an indictment of Israel. The religious leaders say they’d treat the prophets of old better, and they’re going to get a chance to do just that. In a few days, more righteous blood will be spilled.[8]

Jesus’ love and grief

After these harsh words, Jesus tenderly looks over the holy city and grieves. “Jerusalem, Jerusalem. How I long to gather your children together like a mother hen gathers her chicks under her wing, but you didn’t want me.” Jesus wants things to turn out differently and his heart is heavy as his ministry wraps up.

Good News:

I remember being told in seminary to always have good news somewhere in your sermon. It’s a challenge on a text like this. But, believe it or not, there’s good news here.

First of all, there is a bright side to the woes. If we listen and clean up our act, we’ll not have to keep up a facade. We can be freed to live.

Sharon Fawcett, in a book titled Hope for Wholeness: The Spiritual Path to Freedom from Depression, writes about this struggle. She tells about keeping up appearances (which is what hypocrisy is all about). “I considered it my responsibility to look like a winner, maintain the image, and try to make my life appear problem-free.” She wanted to be “a walking billboard advertising a perfect, painless life” that came from her relationship with Christ.”[9]

For Fawcett, judgment came through a bout of depression which kept her from keeping up this façade. After lots of treatment, having worked through it, she found freedom from such burdens. God is good and can work through the bad to bring about good for us.

A second source of good news here is the love we experience from Jesus. Our Savior loves us and wants us to love him and one another. He wants us to be ourselves, not to pretend to be something that we are not. He doesn’t want to burden us or make our lives harder. He wants us to be free to accept his grace and forgiveness.

Because he loves us, as well as those around us, there are times he needs to correct and redirect our focus. Jesus doesn’t want his followers to be a veneer, to be a façade. He wants to cleanse and liberate us so we can live free from the bondage of sin. That’s good news!

This week look back over these seven woes and re-examine your life considering what Jesus says. Is he speaking to us? Amen  

[1] A silly joke using the homophone woe verses whoa.

[2] Matthew 5:21-28

[3] For agricultural tithes see Leviticus 27:30 and Deuteronomy 14:22-23. Frederick Dale Bruner, The Churchbook: Mathew 13-28 (Grand Rapids, Eerdmans, 2004), 447.

[4] Matthew 22:36-40

[5] Bruner, 449.

[6] Bruner, 451, examines the Greek word akrasia, which literally means lack of self-control.

[7] Bruner, 452.

[8] This sermon was in Jesus’ final week in Jerusalem, just before his crucifixion.

[9] Sharon Fawcett, Hope for Wholeness: The Spiritual Path to Freedom from Depression (Colorado Springs, CO: NavPress, 2008), 45.

Jeff Garrison
Bluemont and Mayberry Churches
November 8, 2020
Matthew 23:1-12

At the beginning of the service:

            Today we’re moving into the 23^rd chapter of Matthew. Some commentators think this is one of the more difficult chapters in Scripture. I’m don’t think that’s true. This text is not that hard for us to understand, but it makes us quite uncomfortable. 

Mark Twain claimed it wasn’t the parts of Scripture he didn’t understand that bothered him. It was the parts he understood. This might be one of those chapters. 

Jesus attacks hypocrisy. Much of this teaching is directed at leaders within the religious community, but there are other parts of it applicable to all of us. Hypocrisy is often a problem and the reason many people shy away from church. If our words and actions go together, the church would be much more effective at offering hope to a hurting world.^[1]

This is the last chapter in Matthew where Jesus publicly speaks to a multitude. Jesus is probably speaking at the temple, for he leaves there with the disciples shortly afterwards.^[2]

I’m splitting this chapter into two parts. Today, we’ll look at what Jesus teaches about humility and service. Jesus teaches us what’s important in God’s economy, a place where the last becomes first, and the first last. 

After the Scripture Reading:

Saturday, a week ago, was Halloween. It was also Reformation Day! On October 31, 1517, Martin Luther nailed his 95 theses to the door of the church in Wittenburg, Germany. This is seen as the beginning of what we know as the Protestant Reformation. 

The Protestant experience has led to widespread changes in the world. This includes fostering in democratic ideals.^[3]

One of the key concepts of Protestantism is the “Priesthood of All Believers.” This means all of us have the ability to take our sins to God, through Jesus Christ, for forgiveness. We have access to God and can interpret God’s word for ourselves. 

The impact of this doctrine is greater than the notion of us not having to confess through a priest. It levels the playing field, emphasizing equality. The concept impacts more than the church. It helped promote the view that all citizens are equal. It encouraged the idea of one person/one vote. We could even credit it with bringing us the election we had this week. 

Of course, many of you, like me, became sick of the campaigning and then the counting. It seemed to go on forever. Now, maybe, it’s over and our prayer need to be for the transition to new leadership. 

But before we get too far away from the election, I have a modest proposal for the next one. All politicians should have to read this chapter of Matthew’s gospel and be asked about it. These words should give them, and us, something to ponder. 

Our Savior addresses pride and humility. He condemns how we tend to say one thing and do another. He reminds us not to be concerned with what looks good, but to do what is right and just. 

A good leader is humble and a servant, realizing that they are accountable not only to their constituents, but ultimately to God. A good leader needs to know that there are worse things that can happen than being voted out of office. A leader is always responsible to God!  

But this passage isn’t just directed toward those in authority; it’s also directed toward the rest of us. Sooner or later, we’re all in a leadership position. Whether it is as a parent, on a job, or just as a witness letting our light shine.^[4]But a leader isn’t a dictator. 

Jesus says that we should not set people up over us when it comes to our relationship to God. Ultimately, our citizenship isn’t here on earth or in America. We’re called to be citizens of that new kingdom, the one in which Jesus rules supreme.   

Of course, while this text applies, Jesus wasn’t speaking of to the political arena when he gave this talk. He’d made his “give to Caesar what is Caesar’s” speech earlier, as we looked at two weeks ago.^[5] But his teachings still apply to those of us who claim to be followers of Jesus. At the time Jesus gave these teachings, he was preparing his followers for the covenant life of the church.

And, as a pastor, this is a hard passage to swallow. “Practice what you teach,” Jesus says. I know, if I am to be honest, there are times I fail to live up to the standard Jesus sets. This is true for all of us, but it’s especially dangerous situation for those of us in leadership roles. In a way, Jesus addresses the Elmer Gantry’s of the Pharisees. He criticizes the one who can incite a crowd against sin while doing what was condemned and walking away with a pocket full of money. 

Applying the Text:

The key to Jesus’ teachings is humility. Pride leads to a fall, we read in Proverbs.^[6] While we will all fail to uphold God’s expectations for us,^[7] humility will cover a lot of our sins.^[8] Jesus doesn’t condemn the Pharisees’ teachings. Jesus’ condemns how they are so rigid in their treatment of others while they exempt themselves from such behavior. 

Some of you may remember Sam Ervin. He was a senator from North Carolina in my youth and became best known for chairing the Watergate Hearings. He came from a family of Presbyterians, serving the church as an Elder. After retiring from the Senate, Sam collected his favorite stories into a book. One of the stories he tells is about a leading Southern Presbyterian theologian of the 19^th Century, Robert Lewis Dabney.  

In the Civil War, Dabney, signed on as chaplain for Stonewall Jackson. He was given the rank of Major. Dabney often preached about predestination. This doctrine teaches that God is in control and has things worked out. He told the men this meant if they were predestined to be killed, there was nothing they could do to stop that Yankee bullet. Consequently, if they were predestined to live, there was no way a Yankee could harm them. 

In a way, Dabney used this doctrine, which is supposed to be about our hope in Jesus Christ, to encourage bravery on the battlefield. I’m pretty sure Augustine or Calvin, the Church’s two great teachers on this doctrine, would not have agreed with Dabney’s application. 

One day, according to Ervin’s story, Dabney was out visiting the men along the line. Suddenly, they were under attack. Yankee bullets buzzed through the air. Dabney ran hard. He dove behind the largest tree around, landing on top of a private who’d already claimed that safe spot. The private, seeing the chaplain on top of him, said, “Major Dabney, you don’t practice what you preach!”

“What do you mean, son?” Dabney asked.

“You’re always telling us that everything is going to happen as it has been planned and predestined by the Almighty and we can’t escape our fate,” the young soldier said. “For that reason, you say we should be calm in battle. I noticed, however, that when those Yankee bullets began to fly and kick up dust, you forgot about predestination.”

“Son,” Dabney responded, “you overlooked two important facts. This tree was predestined to be here, and I was predestined to jump behind it.”^[9]

You know, what we do is often more important than what we say. That private understood. 

As I said, Jesus points out in this passage that much of the Pharisees say is right. After all, they teach what Moses taught and you can’t go wrong with that. But they don’t do what they teach. In fact, they often made the law more difficult that it has to be. Then, after raising the bar, they don’t follow it themselves. Such teachers use the law to burden down others. 

If we’re going to be in a leadership position in the church, we have to remember our purpose. We’re here to serve and not to make life more difficult for others. We are not to give others burdens that we’re not willing to accept. This has often been a critique of American missionary efforts. Especially in the 19^th and early 20^th Century, we tried to make converts be more like us instead of having them focus on Christ. 

Jesus goes on to note that as a Christian leader, we don’t need to have the best seat in the house or the finest and fanciest clothes. We don’t need to bask in honors and shouldn’t be accepting fancy titles. We should be content to be who we are. We should know our salvation isn’t in what we have done. Salvation is found in what Jesus has done for us. For this reason, we respond to him in joy and are his willing servants. 

The late Doug Hare was one of my New Testament professors when I was in seminary. Unlike other professors who insisted that they be called Dr. or Professor, Doug insisted we use his first name. On our first day in his classroom, citing this passage, he said we were all equal. He saw himself as just another Christian, no different from the rest of us. Of course, that wasn’t quite true. Differences did show after grades were issued. Although fair, he was a tough professor. 

You know, being an effective leader requires work. If you are a leader, more is asked of you. You’re often the first to arrive and the last to leave. You’re the one that gets to pick up the slack when others don’t fulfill their obligations. It’s hard work—whether you’re a pastor, an elder, or a leader of a Bible Study. And for our lives outside the church, we might serve on as a county commissioner, a mayor, or a volunteer fire chief. If you’re younger, you might find yourself as a captain of a ball team, a member of the student counsel, or, if in Scouting, a patrol leader. 

Conclusion:

As a Christian, we should hold our leaders accountable. Furthermore, whenever we find ourselves in a leadership position, we must remember that we aren’t there for glory and honor. Instead, we’re to serve others honestly and fairly. We’re to always remember that our ultimate allegiance belongs to our one true teacher, our true leader, Jesus Christ.  Amen.  

c2020

^[1] I would argue that hypocrisy is a problem in all human endeavors (due to our sinful nature). But the church should strive to limit it and should also confess to the world that it’s a problem with which we struggle. 

^[2] See Matthew 24:1.

^[3] Dee Steven Ozment, Protestants: The Birth of a Revolution (New York: Doubleday, 1993).

^[4] See Matthew 5:16

^[5] Matthew 22:21

^[6] Proverbs 16:18.

^[7] Romans 3:23.

^[8] Jesus provides an example of this at another point in his life. See Luke 18:13-14. 

^[9] Sam J. Ervin, Jr. Humor of a Country Lawyer, (Chapel Hill: University of North Caroline Press, 1983), 82-83.

Jeff Garrison
Bluemont and Mayberry Churches
November 1, 2020
Psalm 110, Matthew 22:41-46

The video above was recorded on Friday, October 30, 2020 and may be a little different from the text below.

At the Beginning of Worship

We’re going to complete the 22^nd Chapter of Matthew’s gospel this morning. Two weeks ago, we began the chapter with Jesus’ parable of the wedding guest. His story didn’t sit well with the religious leaders of the day, which set up the events we dug into last week. 

There we saw Jesus tag-teamed by a group of religious and secular scholars. They kept coming at Jesus with questions and Jesus stunned them with his answers. They were so speechless that Matthew tells us they were “muzzled.” 

Now it’s Jesus’ turn to ask a question. On the surface, it appears to be a simple and not very interesting one. But it’s the most important question.^[1] Jesus asks about their understanding of the Messiah. Those who challenge Jesus have trouble understanding who could save them. Do we? In whom do we place our trust? That’s a question for us to ponder this week.  

After the Reading of Scripture

Do you remember the movie Pale Rider? I always liked the movie. It takes me back to a familiar place. The filming took place just outside a church camp I ran in the Sawtooth Mountains of Idaho in the late 1980s. 

The movie stars Clint Eastwood. He’s a mysterious outsider, who’s only called “Preacher.” He comes into a mining town of LaHood, California. The townsfolk are being run off their claims by bad men hired by Coy LaHood, a mining tycoon longing to control the valley. Even Preacher is abused. He’s encouraged to move on by the corporation’s henchmen. He accepts the abuse, not fighting back, but he encourages the townsfolk to resist. 

We get a sense that this preacher has a past. Thing comes to a head when an innocent man is killed. Fighting breaks out. Eastwood did not defend or take revenge for the wrong done to him. However, when an innocent man is dead, he claims his guns from a safe deposit vault. 

The move ends predictable. Vengeance is metered out and the town saved by this former gunslinging preacher. In the closing scene, with the town secure, the mysterious preacher rides off into the sunset.^[2]

The Preacher was the town’s savior. Pale Rider is a classical western, with a twist or two. An outsider comes in and saves the town who are made up of good people incapable of defending themselves. You quickly know, in such movies, who are the good and bad guys. Once the oppressed have been saved, and the bad buried, the outsider moves on. There is no need for a savior anymore. All is right in the world. 

When things are down, wouldn’t it would be nice to have a savior come in and set things right. It could be an answer to our dreams, or our deepest desire. Of course, so would living in a world where the bad guys are always someone else and we’re always innocent. It makes a good movie, but the world is not that simple. 

Into the Text

Yes, we need to be saved. Sometimes from others. Sometimes from ourselves. And that’s what the gospel of Jesus Christ is all about. We need a savior. We need a Messiah. The problem is, who is our savior? Too often, we want the savior on our own terms. But then, we risk idolatry, worshipping something less than God. Our morning text goes to the heart of this. 

Last week we looked at the three questions the Jewish leadership asked Jesus. Each question was designed to trick or trip him up. They wanted to expose Jesus as a fraud or heretic. In doing so, they could maintain their control over everyone within the faith. Now, after being bombarded by questions, it’s Jesus’ turn. He asks just one question, which he modifies with a couple more clarifying ones. 

Jesus asks his question to the Pharisees, even though there were other leaders present.^[3] Remember, the Pharisees are most like Jesus with their belief in a resurrection. Jesus asks what they think about the Messiah. It’s a simple question. Then he pushes the question further, asking whose son he is. The last question is a tricky one. 

The Pharisee respond that the Messiah is the “son of David.” This is not a bad answer. All we have to do is to go to the very first verse of Matthew’s gospel: “An account of the genealogy of Jesus the Messiah, the son of David…” 

The Davidic sonship of Jesus is taken for granted throughout the New Testament. You see it not only in Matthew Gospel, but in the Gospels of Mark and Luke.^[4] Paul speaks of Jesus as the Son of David.^[5] We even find such a title in the Book of Revelation.^[6] While the title Son of David is important, Jesus drives at something deeper. 

Jesus then asks, how can David call the Messiah, Lord? For you see, a “son” implies a hierarchical relationship. A son always shows deference to the father. Such an attitude goes back to the Ten Commandments, “honor thy father and mother.”^[7] Jesus backs up his question with a quote from Psalm 110, a Psalm of David, which we heard earlier. 

The Pharisee’s hope is in a Messiah who would be a conquering king like David. They are looking for someone who will be willing to defeat their enemies and to restore the honor of the nation. They’re like the residents of LaHood in the movie Pale Rider. 

At the very least, the Pharisees want a Messiah who will do those things outlined in the last verses of Psalm 110. They want him to bring vengeance on their enemies. They want to see their persecutors turned into corpses, stacked like cordwood. 

Yes, Jesus desires justice. Yes, some of those things may happen at the final judgment. But there’s more to Jesus. As one commentator wrote: “If Jesus is seen only from David’s side, glorious but only human, he is mis-seen.” Jesus has to be seen from “God’s side—the very Son of God”^[8]

Another way of thinking about this is as Son of David, Jesus is a Messiah for the Jewish people. But he’s more than that. In Matthew, the title “Son of David,” is always subordinate to the title “Son of God.”^[9]

Twice in Matthew’s Gospel, God claims Jesus as his Son. At his baptism, the skies open and a voice cries out: “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I’m well pleased.”^[10] Again, at the Transfiguration, we hear the same voice.^[11]

As Psalm 110 reminds us, the Messiah sits at God’s right hand. Jesus as the Son of God is the Messiah for the world. “For God so loved the world,” John’s gospel tells us.^[12] Jesus’ mission is to set up the foundation of the church so that it can continue his work in the world until he comes again and calls his people home.  

Applying the Text

So now, we need to ask ourselves the question Jesus asked. What do we think of the Messiah? 

Often, we look for salvation in the wrong places. We think that if we can just have this or that, we’d be satisfied. But the Messiah isn’t an object or a thing. Nor can our true savior be just another person. Sometimes we think, if we just marry the right spouse or if we just had the perfect job, but again those things by themselves can’t fulfill us. 

Perhaps even more dangerous is the belief of a political savior. We’re faced with a choice this week, during the elections. I will never tell you who to vote for. I firmly believe in two foundational principles of the Presbyterian Church. First, God alone is Lord of our conscience. Second, good people see things differently.^[13] So, I won’t say who to vote for. 

However, let me state this clearly: If you think you can vote for a Savior, you’re mistaken. If we believe that any of the candidates can fulfill all our needs and desires, and do everything in a godly manner, we are delusional. 

Yes, political leaders can be a force for good, but they are still mere humans. They are still sinful. Scripture is clear. Even David sinned. Certainly, for Uriah, David was no savior.^[14] Mortals, whether family members, spouses, friends, bosses, or politicians cannot fulfill our deepest needs. 

This is why the Son of David was a short-sighted answer. Mortals are always limited in what they can do. But as one who came from God, the one who is God, Jesus has the power to save. He is the only Savior we need. Anyone and anything else will eventually disappoint and led us into idolatry.  Amen.  

c2020

^[1] Frederick Dale Bruner, The Churchbook: Matthew 13-28 (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2004), 421,

^[2] Pale Rider, 1985. Directed and produced by Clint Eastwood. I simplified the story line here. The name comes from the Revelation 6:8, where death is seen as riding a pale horse. The movie begins when a young girl’s dog is shot by the Coy LaHood’s men. She prays for a miracle. Of course, Eastwood’s character is not “pure.” He has a past as shown by bullet wounds in his back and by his flirting and suggestive “shacking up” with one of the towns eligible women. 

^[3] In the previous passage, Herodians and Sadducees joined the Pharisees in questioning Jesus. 

^[4] Mark 10:4-48, Luke 3:31. 

^[5] Romans 1:3.

^[6] Revelation 3:7, 5:5, 22:16.

^[7] Exodus 20 :12 and Deuteronomy 5:16.

^[8] Bruner, 426. 

^[9] Douglas R. A. Hare, Matthew: Interpretation, a Commentary for Preaching and Teaching, (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1993), 262-263.

^[10] Matthew 3:17.

^[11] Matthew 17:5.

^[12] John 3:16.

^[13] Presbyterian Church (USA), Book of Order, 

^[14] 2 Samuel 11.

Jeff Garrison
Bluemont and Mayberry Churches
October 18, 2020
Matthew 22:1-14

Introduction at the beginning of worship:

          Our text for today’s service is about an invitation to a wedding banquet. Even though this is an allegorical wedding feast, the gospels are full of parties which should remind us that God wants us to have a good time in life. This parable shows that God wants to invite everyone, the more the merrier, as the passage foretells the church’s role in reaching out to the Gentiles.[1] But there’s also a warning. When we respond to the invitation, we should prepare ourselves to be in the presence of the King of Kings. Today, think about how you will prepare yourself for such an invitation.

After the Scripture Reading:

Anxiety dreams, those where we find ourselves somewhere unprepared, are common.

I my case, it’s Sunday morning. I’m not ready to preach. I don’t even realize it’s Sunday. I wake up and leisurely go about my business, wearing shorts and a sweatshirt, causally drinking coffee when panic strikes. It’s ten minutes before church. I haven’t written a sermon. I scramble to get dress as I make a note or two about what I can say from the pulpit, then jump into the car and race to church. I pull in just in time only to realize, as I open the car door that I forgot something, like my pants. It’s at that point I wake up sweating and realize it’s not Sunday. Or if it is, it’s 4 AM and I’ve already written my sermon.

There are variations to this dream. Sometimes I lost my sermon, or I thought someone else was preaching so I hadn’t prepared or, maybe instead of no pants, I’m wearing jeans with holes in the knees.

A psychologist might interpret such dreams as an indication of some buried fear of inadequacy, which is a fear of which many people suffer. We go around life trying to look good, to hide our flaws, and afraid that if other people see who we really are, they’ll not like us. As adults, we dream about being unprepared on the job. When we were younger, it might have been being unprepared for a test at school.

A similar dream is based on the fear being socially stigmatized, such as not being invited to a party. This is not a new fear. People feared being embarrassed even in Jesus’ day, which is why Jesus tells us in Luke’s gospel that if we’re invited at a party, we should sit in the back. If we sit up front, we might be embarrassed when a more honored guest claims our seat.[2]

One might also dream about being at a party unprepared. You wear a tux when it’s a costume party or you come dressed in jeans and everyone else is wearing a tux. Or perhaps you bring a gag gift not realizing it’s a wedding shower. Get the picture?

We can all image, I expect, the nightmare of the guest who came to the banquet in our text without a wedding robe. When the King, who represents God, asks where’s his robe, the guy’s speechless. He has no defense and knows it. This is no ordinary party; he’s not just booted out on the sidewalk but assigned to a horrific eternal fate.

The message of the parable is harsh but clear. We’re all invited to a banquet. God graciously extends the invitation, but we must come prepared to be in the presence of the King. 

Dirty torn clothes won’t cut it. That’s a joke. Our preparation has nothing to do with clothes. This parable is an allegory. It’s not about an actually wedding banquet, although weddings are a common image in scripture for the fulfillment of the kingdom. Read the ending of the book of Revelation. History concludes with a wedding, uniting a renewed heaven and earth.[3]

The robe represents something other than actual clothes. The prophet Isaiah sings a song of deliverance proclaiming what God has done. Isaiah provides us with another insight into the meaning of such clothing. Listen to this verse:

My soul shall be joyful in my God;

For He has clothed me with the garments of salvation

He has covered me with the robe of righteousness

As a bridegroom decks himself in ornaments,

And as a bride adorns herself with jewels.[4]

          Catch that? The robe represents righteousness. The parable points out the need for us not only to attend the wedding banquet, but for us to respond with a changed life. To honor the king who invites us to the banquet, we clothed ourselves, or more correctly we allow the King’s son, Jesus Christ, to clothed, us with a robe of righteousness.[5]

          This passage supports the ethical tradition of the Reformed faith.[6] We, who are unworthy, are called by God through Jesus Christ, to come to the banquet, to establish our relationship with our Creator, a relationship that we have broken by sin. Yet, despite that, God graciously calls us when he could just as easily abandon us. God lovingly calls us, sending his Son, so that we not only hear the call but will respond with grateful hearts of thanksgiving.

Our lives as Christians should be balanced between the justification God freely grants and our response. God’s love drives us to sanctify ourselves, to strive for godliness.

The unfortunate man without a robe represents one who hears God’s call—for he came to the banquet—but who didn’t prepare himself to be in the presence of the King.  

          Jesus ends the parable with a proverb: “Many are called but few are chosen.” Jesus often has a way to throw in a curve at the end of his stories. We’re left scratching our head and having to live in faith.

This proverb is problematic and could, if not understood in context, drive us to despair. It also doesn’t seem to go to with the parable, which only speaks of one not being chosen at the banquet. That poor dude doesn’t make a multitude. Instead, he seems to be a clueless guest who made a major faux pas for which we are left to wonder why he’s not forgiven. His blunder and this closing parable evoke a certain amount of terror. If this guy can screw up, then what is going to keep you and me from making a mistake?

          “It’s a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God,” asserts the author of Hebrews.[7] But what choice do we have? When Jesus asked the disciples if they, like the masses, want to abandon him, they responded, “Where can we go? Only you have the words of eternal life.”[8]

We have no choice but to live within the tension of the parable. The king is inviting us to the banquet. God is graciously calling us to his kingdom. That by itself should make us thankful and open to responding. But we’re left with the question, how should we get ready?[9]

          We should understand that salvation is not just forgiveness. It’s also about renewal. To put this into theological terms, we’re justified and sanctified.[10] That latter step, the sanctification part, requires action on our behalf.

This is the tension that exists between grace and the law—between what God does for us and that which we do in response to God’s love. We can’t do without either one, grace or law. However, we often over-emphasize one or the other. Instead, we’re to respond to God’s grace by striving to live by his law.

The intention of this parable isn’t to drive us to despair as we worry if we’re appropriately dressed, but to encourage us to be ready and to give our best to a God who invites us to the banquet. We’re summoned before God. The king has invited us; we need to respond in faith by striving to live godly lives.

          You know, those dreams in which we  wake up in sweat, worried about not being prepared? They probably help us be better prepared (like a Boy Scout, “Be Prepared”).

Likewise, this passage which not only has good news, but a terrible warning is a reminder of us to be ready. Yes, God wants us to enjoy the festivities, but we also have responsibilities and obligations. We’re to be God’s light in the world.[11]

Think about Jesus’ life, he enjoyed many dinner parties. And now we’re being called to the party that will top all parties. But first, as my mom used to say before calling us to dinner, “Wash up!” Amen.

©2020 Jeff Garrison

[1] Douglas R. A. Hare, Matthew: Interpretation Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1993), 244-251.

[2] Luke 14:7-11.

[3] Revelation 21:2.,

[4] Isaiah 61:10, NKJV.

[5] Matthew’s idea of a wedding garment is an active attempt for us to live by the law (as compared to Paul’s idea that righteousness being imputed and based on our faith).  Martin Luther suggests the wedding garment could also mean faith and many who come to the banquet (Judgement day) will lack faith. John Calvin (along with Augustine), suggested that there was no need to debate whether the garments are faith or righteous works as the two can’t be separated. There was also a rabbinical parable from this era in which the wedding garments were seen as “charity,” which implies a more active role in our preparations. See Frederick Dale Bruner, The Churchbook: Matthew 13-28 (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2004), 390.

[6] The Reformed faith (or tradition) refers to the theology of the Presbyterian Church. Presbyterians are not the only ones who are “Reformed.” Presbyterians, historically, came from Scotland and Ireland. The “Reformed Churches” (our cousins) mostly came from the European continent. Others also may hold to a Reformed faith, including some Baptists and Anglican/Episcopal. The Reformed Faith draws from the teachings of Swiss Reformers (Zwingli, Calvin, Bullinger, etc), and places a strong emphasis on the sovereignty of God, the reality of sin, and our need for a Savior. 

[7] Hebrews 10:31.

[8] John 6:68.

[9] See Barbara Brown Taylor, “Tales of Terror, Times of Wonder,” The Other Side (March-April 2000).

[10] John H. Leith, Introduction to the Reformed Tradition (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1981), 79.

[11] Matthew 5:14.

Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
September 6, 2020
Matthew 18:15-20

Click this link to watch the service which begins at the 6 minutes into the table. The sermon starts at 18:20 minutes into the service. 

Also, it seems I wasn’t the only one to come down hard on gossip this week. Even the Pope joined the chorus in his Sunday address. Click here for the AP article.

At the Beginning of Worship:

             Technology has brought a lot of changes to our world, good and bad. On the positive side, it allows us to continue holding worship services during a pandemic, something that wasn’t available during the 1918 pandemic. But it also means everything is now more public, out in the open. Even things we might have hoped to do privately gets posted across social media for the world to see.

The downside of technology includes social media being filled with folks ready to attack anyone who might not agree with them. We’ve always had such people, but they used to easy to avoid. It’s amazing how people will attack others publicly, be it their food choices, their politics, or their use of grammar. Those who engaged in this manner think they’re doing something righteous when they blast an opponent. They think they look good and have power.

But is this how a Christian should act? Not according to the Scripture text we’re examining today. In fact, even when someone else is in the wrong, we need to go the extra mile to protect their identity, to show love, and to act with humility.

After the Scripture:

             I always admire those folks who can take bucket of rust and, with hard work, restore the car to where it looks like it just rolled off the assembly lane. It takes time, patience, expertise, and a willingness to get one’s hands dirty. But what beauty can come out of such efforts.

Today’s sermon is about restoration. Not of cars, but of people. As Christians, we are not only to be about making ourselves betters, but also others.

Our passage from the 18^th Chapter of Matthew speaks of correcting the sins of our brothers and sisters in the faith. Let me warn you, this is an easy passage to abuse. If we’re to be correcting sin, we need to first remember we’re all sinners. Second, we are dishonest if we only correct those sins we find most grievous or only the sins committed by those we dislike, while ignoring the sins of those we like. Remember, Jesus said something about us getting the log out our eyes before removing a speck from someone else’s.[1]

            Pointing out the sins of others is something few of us want to do. That’s probably good. In the book The Peacemaker, which is mostly based on this passage, Ken Sande suggests those eager to go out and correct others are probably not the ones needing to perform such tasks.[2] The person who sets out to correct another needs to be humble and desiring both to restore the other person back into a relationship with Christ as well as to keep the publicity down. We’re not to try to make ourselves look better while making others look bad. That’s not Christ-like.

Like restoring an automobile, restoring relationships is hard work. It requires wisdom, love, gratitude, and humility. Without such gifts, one is liable to make a mess of things, just as having the wrong tools could ruin a car’s restoration. Without humility, we can make a mess of a relationship.

Now look at this passage. It starts with a difficult verse. Verse 15 is generally translated “if your brother sins against you…” The New Revised Standard Version translates it more to the intent of the original when it says if “another member of the church sins against you.” Matthew uses the word brother to imply all who are a part of the Christian fellowship, not just siblings or just men. The question that arises is whether we have the right to go correct others in sin.

If you take this passage as translated, the text implies that you go talk only to those who sin against you. Yet, almost all translations will have a footnote here, informing us that many of the older text omit the “against you.”[3] In such cases, it sounds as if we have a license to go correcting anyone who is in violation of God’s law. Since we’re all sinful at one point or another, the field is ripe for a harvest.

I’m going to do something maybe a little unorthodox and take both positions. If your brother or sister in the faith does something wrong against you, you are supposed to go to him or her. In other words, the harmed or the innocence party is supposed to make the effort to reconcile. Image that! My tendency, and this is probably true for most of us, is to avoid people who harm me, but that’s not what we’re being told here. And the object of the visit is not to beat up the offending party, but to restore them. We can also look at this verse from the angle of church discipline. Taking this verse to read: “If your brother does something wrong, go and have it out with him alone,” as the New Jerusalem Bible translates it, we’re told to confront those whose sins are so bad that they are harming the church of giving God a black eye.

Regardless of whether you think this passage applies only to sins committed personally against you as an individual or to sins in general, we’re not given a license to become intolerant moral police officers. Look at the context of this teaching. Right before here, in verses 10-14, Jesus gives the Parable of the Lost Sheep. The focus there, as in this passage, isn’t confrontation. It’s reconciliation, bringing the lost back into the fold. Then he follows this passage with the Parable of the Unforgiving Servant. Remember that passage is about judgment upon those who act harshly and are judgmental toward others. Having these two passages as bookends reminds us that Jesus is primarily interested in restoration of the sinner and that if we’re involved in bringing about such restoration, we’re to be humble and gracious.

We need to ask ourselves if the offense is great enough to risk ruining a relationship. Sometimes, having a little thicker skin will do wonders and further the peace.

If, however, the situation requires action, we’re to go to the other person and confront them face to face; we’re not to be talking about it to others, starting up the gossip mill. Today, thanks to social media, starting a rumor is easier than ever. But before we announce to the world the wrong someone has done, we’re to go talk to them. We’re to listen to what they say, for they may have a different interpretation or understanding.

Listening is important. We might have missed understood. Furthermore, if Jesus were teaching today, I think he’d insist that we listen and gather the facts before we march off into a crusade. As for social media, he would probably suggest that before we share something online, we make sure what we say is supported by facts and are not just emotional responses that demonstrate our own confirmation bias.[4]

After having confronted the person face to face, if they are not willing to work things out or if they are going to continue sinful activities, we’re still not to start gossiping. We’re to maintain confidentiality as we attempt to come to an understanding with two or three others, who are trusted and will also keep confidentiality. In Sande’s book, he recommends that if we’re in a conflict with someone else, we tell them at the end of that first meeting that we’re going to seek the council of others—for if they know they’re in the wrong they may be willing to go ahead and work things out with us.

These two or three witnesses serve two functions.  First, they are observers. Judgment in Scripture always required two witnesses.[5] In this case, they are there to make sure that things are fair. They might listen and think we’re the one that is in the wrong and, in that case, we have to be willing to accept their advice.

After this second visit, if we still don’t resolve the problem, then we can take our complaint back to the church. In keeping with the process, this doesn’t mean that we stand up during joys and concerns and broadcast the complaint to everyone. Instead, we take it to the leadership, to those in charge, and let them be the judge. Only after this intervention fails, does the church have a right to exclude the offending party from the community of faith. Matthew says that then they’ll be like “pagans and tax collectors.”

What are our responsible toward correcting a member of the community who sins, remembering that we all sin? This was debated heatedly during the Reformation. John Calvin, one of the founders of our branch of Christendom, supported Church discipline for three reasons.[6] First, was to honor God. The church should act against those who are in open revolt against God. But Calvin did not suggest we start inquisitions. He never argued for a “pure church” because he believed that was impossible. Church discipline was taken only against those who openly refused to stop and repent of their blasphemous activities. The second aim was to keep the good within the church from being corrupted, and the third aim was to bring the guilty party into repentance.[7] Discipline was always carried out in hopes of restoring the contrite into the fellowship of the church. In other words, discipline was done pastorally out of concern for the accused soul.

When we take these verses out of their setting, they sound harsh. After all, Christ gives those of us in the community the power to banish someone from our midst.[8] He even tells us that decisions we make here have eternal ramifications. But our purpose isn’t to be the enforcer; instead our goal is to restore the sinner. And if we’re going to be convincing, we got to remember that we’re all sinners, which means we better be humble in any endeavor we undertake.[9] We don’t try to correct others as a way to prove our rightness, but out of love and concern. Like restoring a car, it’s hard work. Amen.

©2020

[1] Matthew 7:5.

[2] Ken Sande, The Peacemaker: A Biblical Guide to Resolving Personal Conflict (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2004).

[3] There is debate over the inclusion of this phrase.  See Bruce Metzger, A Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament (United Bible Society, 1985), 45 and Douglas R. A. Hare, Matthew: Interpretation (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1992), 213.  Robert Gundry argues for its inclusion in Matthew: A Commentary on his Literary and Theological Art (Grand Rapids: Eerdman, 1982), 367; while Frederick Dale Bruner omits the phrase.  See The Churchbook: Matthew 13-28 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004), 225.

[4] Confirmation bias is agreeing with something because it “fits” our world view without verification. In other words, we decide something is right because it fits our existing beliefs.

[5] Deuteronomy 19:15.

[6] Although Calvin supported and participated in church discipline, unlike some Reformers such as John Knox, Calvin did not see discipline as one of the marks of a “true church.”  To him the marks of a true church was the proclamation of the gospel and the rightful administration of the sacraments.  For a discussion of Calvin and discipline, see Charles Partee, The Theology of John Calvin (Louisville: W/JKP, 2008), 270-271.

[7] The three purposes of discipline of John Calvin are in his Institutes of the Christian Religion, IV.12.5..

[8] While this is seen in this passage (Matthew 18:18), it also appears in Matthew 16:19.

[9] Heimlich Bullinger, another reformer and author of the Second Helvetic Confession tempers his talk on discipline with a reminder that Jesus said not to pull the weeds up because you risk pulling up the wheat.  See Presbyterian Church (USA), Book of Confession. 5:165.

Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
August 30, 2020
Matthew 16:21-26

Click here to watch the service. The sermon begins at 18 minutes if you want to fast-forward. 

Beginning of Worship:  I saw a meme the other day. A man at a bar ordered a Corona and two hurricanes. “That’d be 20.20,” the bartender said. It’s not been a good year so far. It seems like we’ve all been carrying a cross over the past eight months. But is this what Jesus means when he says we are to pick up our cross and follow him?

The cross is a symbol we see everywhere. We have several in our sanctuary. We wear it as jewelry. It populates cemeteries and are often placed beside the road where there has been a fatal accident. But what does it means when Jesus tells us to pick up the cross? That’s today’s topic.

This is our second Sunday in the 16^th Chapter of Matthew. If you remember, last week, Peter nails it. He confesses Jesus to be the Messiah. Today, he doesn’t look so good. He can’t accept Jesus’ plan involving the cross. Last week, Peter was praised. This week, he’s called Satan. There’s good news here because our lives are similar. We can do good and great things and we can do rotten things. Aren’t you glad there’s grace?

Jesus does something radical and he invites us to follow him, but it’s a costly invitation. Jesus demands our very lives. For those of us who follow Jesus, the cross becomes our sign of God’s power as Paul eloquently states in First Corinthians, but to others it’s foolishness.[1] But as a sign, the cross is not easily understood.

###

After the Scripture Reading: What does it mean to pick up our cross and follow Jesus? Maybe a better way to ask this question is what does it mean to be a follower of Jesus Christ?  We have to be careful that we don’t cheapen the bearing of our cross in an attempt to explain our trials. Carrying the cross isn’t just enduring a bad time, like 2020. Picking up our cross and following Christ has life changing implications. We admit we’re not in control. It’s no longer about us and what we want and what we think we need. Instead, it’s all about the man up ahead, the one we are following.

Think about the theology of the cross in light of two seeming contradictions in scripture: Jesus’ call for us to pick up our cross and proclaims that he’s come to set us free.[2]

In Jesus’ day, no one thought of the cross as a sign of freedom.  In fact, a cross was viewed in just the opposite. It was a sign of torture, a reminder of the imperial power of Rome that subjected a huge portion of the population to slavery. In Rome, if a slave rebelled, the cross was the normal method of execution. The cross was a tool the Romans used to cement their control. When Jesus tells the disciples to pick up their cross and follow, they may have had second thoughts.

This particular passage is recounted in all three of the synoptic gospels—which tells us something about the impression it made on the disciples.[3] Yes, we know Peter doesn’t like the idea of Jesus dying, but that was all before Jesus issues this command. None of the gospels give us an idea of how the disciples and the crowd responded to Jesus’ call at this point. Such an omission is a part of the plan, I believe, for it allows us to respond to Jesus’ call in our own ways. This morning, we’re wrestling with what it means to pick up our cross. First, I am going to discuss some mistaken ways this call is interpreted: I’ll label these three as triumphant militarism, naive pacifism, and sentimentalism. Then I will offer ideas on how we are to be a servant of Jesus Christ and faithfully answer his call.

Peter’s idea of picking up the cross falls into my triumphant militaristic category. Remember, he’s the disciple who, at Jesus’ arrest, pulls out a sword and slashes the ear off of one of the men.[4] I imagine Peter, a fisherman whose muscles were well defined from working the nets, as a strong man. At this stage of his Christian walk, he’s a Rambo type character, ready to pull up the cross and use it as a club to pound his foes. Peter and the other disciples are ready for Jesus to set up a worldly kingdom. Peter wants Jesus to be King so he can be an advisor, right next to Jesus’ throne, the second in command.

When Jesus started talking about this suffering stuff, Peter gets nervous and decides he’d better try to steer his leader in a different direction. “Hey Jesus,” Peter remarks, “let’s rethink this part about dying.” But Jesus’ way wins out. The cross is not to be used by us as a weapon, nor does it give us any protection other than being a symbol of what Jesus has done for us.

If triumphant militarism is one extreme rejected by Jesus, so is the other extreme, which I label naive pacifism. I chose the term naive because pacifism for many Christians is an appropriate response. But when the path is naively chosen, we forget that we’re called to resist evil, to deny evil power in the world and instead we become a sacrificial pawn. Just as we should not use the cross as a weapon, it’s not to be used as a white flag of surrender, either. Jesus picked up his cross and carried it to Calvary in order to offer his life for sins you and I have committed.  Jesus died for our sins so that we don’t need to die for them, nor should we be expected to die for the sins of others. But this doesn’t mean there’s not work for us to do.

If we’re not to be militants or pacifists, we might be led to think the proper understanding—the middle way of understanding Jesus’ call—is sentimentalism.  Sadly, this is the way many people look at the cross. We clean up its horrific image and use it as jewelry and decor on our cars.  But such an understanding of the cross—if it goes no deeper—misses the point. It can even become a political statement or a superstition, which is idolatry. If the cross is only seen for its sentimental value—we’ve cheapened Jesus’ call.

I don’t know if I can give an understanding of what picking up one’s cross should mean to us all. Certainly, I think it means more than having a piece of jewelry. For a few people, it may mean martyrdom—as it did for many of the disciples. But Jesus certainly didn’t expect all his followers to be crucified. Secondly, martyrdom is not the highest virtue. Instead of martyr, the virtue we strive for is faithfulness. Yet, we learn from Jesus, if we love our life we will lose it.  Paul expands this thought when he speaks of our need to put to death the desires of the flesh and to live for Christ.[5]

By calling us to pick up our cross, Christ informs us that we’re not in charge of our Christian journey. We must be willing to follow him. Our calling isn’t about our needs or our desires, but about Jesus’ desire for us and for our lives. As Christians, we all have a calling that is linked to our vocations. Since we live our Christian life throughout the week, and we all have different occupations and trades, we each have to determine how we can best be true to our Savior. I can’t give a single definition of what picking up our cross will mean for everyone, just as Matthew didn’t tell us of the disciples response to this call.

As a seminary student, when I was a camp director in Idaho, we had each of the campers carry a live-size cross during a hike. Afterwards, around a campfire, we debriefed. Some told how difficult it was to physically carry the cross—toting the awkward beams and of the splinters. Others spoke about how they were uncomfortable to be out front of the rest of the campers, with everyone following and looking at them. Others had even more difficulty watching their fellow campers struggle. These wanted to show compassion by taking the burden of their friends.

These responses from the campers provide an insight into what the cross means and maybe an idea of how we pick up our crosses. When Jesus took up his cross, he was taking on the burdens of the world. He didn’t take the cross on his own behalf, but on our behalf. It wasn’t someone who lived a comfortable life that brought salvation to the world; it was someone who shared in the suffering of the whole world. We must understand that Jesus’ death on the cross is sufficient for our sins and the sins of the world.[6]

The penalty for sin—death—has been paid in full and none of us is being called to make another deposit—we’re not being called to save the world.[7]  By picking up the cross, Jesus shows his willingness to share in our pains and sorrows.  And he calls us, his disciples, to share in the pain of others. The campers who expressed compassion for the one carrying the cross understood, at least partly, what is means to be indebted to someone for taking on our burdens and for us to be ready to have compassion for others who are in pain. One meaning of picking up our cross is for us to be willing to stand beside others in need—whatever form that need might take. Jesus takes our burdens, he shoulders our cross, and the only way we can have a glimpse of what he feels is to feel the pain and burdens of others. So maybe our crosses have to do with how we show compassion.

I think our vicariously sharing in the pain of others also helps us to understand the proverb Jesus cites at the end of our passage. Jesus reminds us that whoever wants to save their lives will lose them and whoever loses their lives for his sake will find them. This is one of those great reversal statements of Jesus, but notice Jesus doesn’t call us to lose our lives in the lives of others. Rather, he calls us to place himself first in our lives—to put our total trust in him. Our call to discipleship is not to place some other than Jesus first (despite what politicians—many of whom have a messiah-complex, might hope for). Nor is our call to place ourselves first. It’s a call to follow Jesus and put our total trust in him. It means we must obey the first commandment: to have no god other than the one true God.  It means to take seriously the great commandment: to love God—the God revealed in Jesus Christ—with all our hearts and souls and minds and strength.

If we are grounded in our love for God as revealed in Jesus Christ, we will be able to fearlessly pick up our crosses, whatever form it may take, when Jesus calls. This means following Jesus even if it means losing our friends or being alienated from our families. This means following Jesus even though we will be despised. And it means we must be willing to follow Jesus even if lose our lives. We follow Jesus, and only him. Jesus is all that matters. Amen.

©2020

[1] 1 Corinthians 1:18

[2] See John 8:32-36.

[3] Matthew 16”24-28, Mark 8:34-9:1 and Luke 9:23-27. In each of these gospels, this scene is followed by the Transfiguration. Only Mark has the previous story of Peter confessing Jesus to be the Messiah.

[4] John 18:10.

[5] Romans 8:13.

[6] See Hebrews 10:1-18.

[7] 1 Corinthians 15:56.

JEFF GARRISON
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
Matthew 15:21-28
August 16, 2020

To watch the service, click here to go to our Youtube site. To see just the sermon (skipping prelude, announcements, call to worship, first hymn and confession) forward to 15:35. 

Last week, we heard about Jesus saving Peter from drowning after he attempted to walk on water. Afterwards, Jesus referred to Peter as one of little faith. Today, we have Jesus referring to a foreign woman’s great faith. What’s up with this? Let’s see…  Read Matthew 15:21-28

###

Let’s go back in time to the First Century, to Tyre, a town on the Mediterranean, a port used by the Phoenicians. Like everything else in this part of the world, the town is now in Roman hands. But the roar of the waves crashing the shore are still the same. The taste of salt in the air is still the same. And on this day, as the heat begins to fade and an afternoon breeze from the ocean rolls in, the market opens. As we enter, our eyes catch the vision of a woman shopping. She has come early, before the crowds, her eyes red from crying, to gather food for her and her daughter. She doesn’t speak.

While examining slabs of bacon at the butcher’s shop, she listens in on the gossip. The butcher, a baker and a fisherman are chatting.

“Did you hear that Jesus, you know, the guy who fed 5,000 people with just a few loaves of bread and a few sardines, is in town?[1] A few more stunts like that and I’ll have to sell out,” the baker jokes.

“I might be with you,” the fisherman nods. “The method he uses to catch fish over on the Galilee will put little guys like me out of business.”[2]

The woman lingers, listening and wondering.

“Isn’t Jesus the guy who sent those demons into a herd of pigs causing them to run off the cliff?” the fisherman asks the butcher. [3]

“Yeah, it’s a shame, all that good pork washed out to sea. The price of ribs haven’t yet recovered! It seems the only trade he’s helped has been the roofers.”[4]

“Where’s he staying?”  The baker asks.

The woman’s interest is raised, she leans over the counter to hear…

“He had a hard time finding a place after that incident in Capernaum where some people cut a hole in the roof of a house in order to get to him,” the butcher replies. “Finally, Mr. Jones rented his old place up on 2^nd Street. I couldn’t believe he’d rent it to Jesus. I asked him about it, but old man Jones’ wasn’t too worried. He said the place needs a new roof and maybe, this way, insurance will cover it.

“I think that’s him coming now,” the baker says, pointing to a crowd gathering at the town’s gate.

Overhearing this gossip, the woman’s face lights up. “Jesus,” she says to herself. “I must meet Jesus.” She drops her shopping bag, kicks off her heels and runs, without stopping, toward the crowd. Pushing through the folks, she shouts as if she’s insane: “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David. My daughter is tormented by a demon.” She’s so loud that everyone else stops speaking as she approaches. Even Jesus appears lost for words. The disciples consider her crazy and urges Jesus to send her away. After all, she’s pagan and it would be of no surprise that a pagan’s kid is possessed by a demon. She, too, probably is possessed, they think.[5]

Jesus brushes the woman aside. Pointing to his disciples, he tells her he’s been sent to the lost sheep of Israel. She continues, frantically asking for Jesus’ help. She’s tried everything. Jesus is her last chance for her daughter to be made well. Then her heart sinks, her head drops in shame.

Think about how this woman feels? She’d give her eye teeth to have her daughter freed. When she hears that Jesus is in town, her hopes are raised, only to be crushed. Imagine the pain she felt at this rejection—Jesus being either too busy or too tired to tend to her child. She’s helpless.

Many of us have felt helpless when dealing with our children. It’s a fairly common among parents, because there are often things beyond our control. But it’s even more common among those who are marginalized. Think of immigrant families risking everything to get a child to America, a place of promise, or to get them out of a place like Syria where the violence is terrible. Or consider African American parents who must have “the talk” with their sons. Knowing that you are not being taken seriously because of your ethnic background is something most of us don’t know about, but there are many such people in the world. Such folks are modern day examples of this Canaanite woman—feeling there is no food at the table for them.

This passage, we all know, is not just about disappointments and bad news. God, through Jesus Christ, is doing something incredible. It actually starts at the beginning of the chapter where we learn that food laws aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. “It isn’t what you eat—what’s in your stomach—that defiles you,” Jesus says. “It’s what’s in your heart.” God’s creation is good. Since we are all created by God, there is a possibility for us to all claim a divine inheritance.

The woman, as are most Gentiles who live near Galilee, is used to being called a dog. Humanity has almost always treated “others” within contempt. It was common in 1^st Century Palestine for the pious Jews to refer to the Gentiles as dogs. Yet, I still don’t know what to make of this passage. It disappoints me for Jesus to use such language. I’d prefer to have him say, “My dear child,” or something similar. Just don’t call her a dog, Jesus, but I suppose political correctness wasn’t in vogue during the first century.

But instead of getting hung up on this one word, let’s put this into context and see what Jesus is saying. By saying he has to fed the children before the dogs, we learn Jesus’ mission is first to the Israelites. He’s ministering and teaching to the Jews But knowing this doesn’t help the woman; it doesn’t solve her problem. Jesus is supposed to be a good man and she’s stung by his words.

With her head bowed, I image she begins to leave, then pauses. Has Jesus denied her request? Or maybe, when the disciples are fed, there’ll be something left over for her child. It takes a few moments to get up her courage, but when she does, she spins around like a ballerina, raises her head and looks Jesus in the eyes. “Sir,” she addresses, “even the dogs eat the crumbs from the master’s table.” This lady is bold. Jesus is now going to have to deal with her, one way or the other.

“Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall for the master’s table,” what a great line.

“You’re right,” Jesus says. I imagine a big smile came over his face as he continued, with a voice loud enough to drive home the point home to the disciples, when he says, “Great is your faith. Your daughter will be healed.”

There is, after all, good news in this passage. The woman’s bloodline isn’t going to keep her from experiencing the healing powers of Christ. Even her religion isn’t a barrier. Notice that Jesus doesn’t say anything about casting the demon out because she was good or have kept the law or any other reason. Instead, Jesus acts freely and shows compassion to her and her child in the same manner he responds to our concerns brought to him in prayer. When there is something we, or someone we love, need, be bold in your prayers!

As I’ve said, this story comes right after Jesus has spent the first half of the chapter dealing with the religious elite of the day who complained that Jesus and his disciples were not keeping the tradition of the Elders. Jesus turned around this challenge, to emphasize that it’s not what we eat that defiles, but what comes out of our mouth and what’s in our heart. In other words, what we do is what’s important. To those leaders, this woman, by her racial status, is problematic and should avoided, but her insistence on the behalf of her daughter is a sign of faith. And Jesus responds to faith. In scripture, instead of talking about faith, Jesus mostly responds to it as he does in this situation.[6]

Which leads me to ask, what is faith? What do you think when you hear the word faith? It’s a word we use often, but do we really understand it? Do we have faith? The Second Helvetic Confession, written during the Reformation by Heinrich Bullinger, insists that faith is not an opinion or a human conviction, but is a “firm trust and a clear and steadfast assent of the mind, and then a most certain apprehension of the truth of God presented in the Scriptures,” the Apostle’s Creed, and God himself, and especially Jesus Christ, the fulfillment of God’s promises. And, the Confession goes on to say, “Faith is a gift of God.”[7]

Faith is knowing your only hope is in God, not in your own ability, which is what this Canaanite woman knew when she approached Jesus. She was unable to deliver her daughter, so she sought out the one who has such power. Faith is often described as a verb. It’s not just describing something, it’s about doing something. It’s placing trust in Jesus. Even though Jesus’ earthly ministry was to the Israelites, and the expansion of the gospel to the rest of the world would fall on his disciples, he was compelled to respond to the faith she demonstrated in him.

When we have no place else to turn, where do we place our trust? Is it with God as revealed in Jesus Christ? Or do we try to hedge our bets, hoping our own skills might save us, or perhaps our financial resources, our friends, our guns, or whatever else we place our trust. True faith trust only God as revealed in Jesus Christ. True faith is humbling because it acknowledges we can’t do it ourselves, that we’re dependent on the Almighty.[8] May we have such faith. May we be so bold as this woman in our prayers. At times like this, we need it! Amen.

©2020

[1] Matthew 14:13-21. This story also appears in other gospels.

[2] Luke 5:1-11.  A similar story is told in John 21, but that is a post-resurrection appearance of Jesus.

[3] Mark 5:1-20.

[4] Mark 2:1-12.

[5] In his commentary on this passage, Scott Hoezee writes about how demon possession would play into the disciples stereotyping of the Canaanites. Scott Hoezee, Proper 15A (August 14, 2017), Matthew 15:21-28. Center for Excellence in Preaching. https://cep.calvinseminary.edu/sermon-starters/proper-15a/?type=the_lectionary_gospel

[6] See Kathleen Norris, Amazing Grace: A Vocabulary of Faith (New York: Riverhead Books, 1998), 169.

[7] Presbyterian Church USA, The Book of Confession, “The Second Helvetic Confession,” Chapter XVI, 5.112-113.

[8] Perhaps the reason Jesus says it is easier for the poor to get into heaven than the rich (Matthew 19:24) is because the poor, without resources, have no place else to turn for help.