Proper 5 A, Hosea 5:15-6:6, Psalm 50, Romans 4:13-18, Matthew 9:9-13 The Rev. J. Brian Ponder, Chaplain Church of the Resurrection, Starkville, Mississippi June 5, 2005 In the Name of God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen. If we are truly living into the Gospel of Christ, Love would not only lead us to an eternal paradise but to the very depths of hell. Sound like fire and brimstone? It's not meant to … but there is some truth to it, don't you think? Not necessarily a physical hell--a particular place--but to any place of pain and suffering, any place of hurt and malice, any place of dis-comfort and dis-ease … any place where we are called to bear witness to the living God, the resurrected Christ. Maybe even any place but here! For almost nine years during the 1990s, I was involved in the Happening movement of this diocese as a participant and staff member, and later as a board member. At Happening, there are talks and reflection activities, group activities, songs, games and movies. I'm not sure if this movie is still a regular part of the Happening format, but way back when, one of the standard illustrations for sacramental life and living in the community of Christ came in the form of a profoundly moving short-movie entitled Right Here, Right Now. Now I say profoundly moving a bit tongue-in-cheek, because the movie was as cheesy as it was meaningful. The video had at some point been transferred to cassette from reel; its soundtrack left a LOT to be desired; the actors were obviously cast "on the cheap," their acting much worse than the music; and their actual dialog came at some point rather late in the film. The production was just plain bad. But, … somewhere in the midst of all of it … flowed an insightful quality in its message. Right Here, Right Now depicts scenes from the lives of a not-so-unlikely conglomeration of people. Many find themselves in the same economic situation, but their stories are each quite different. The setting is an apartment building in a working- to middle-class area of a large city. The building's occupants, as the audience comes to realize, are tormented by their own personal demons … their own human failings, or perceived failings: one a drug addict, another a prostitute, a proud military father with a son who has somehow become lame; and even a homosexual man among them … any of the various scenarios of their lives rather taboo, or even risqué, for the time of projection films! And then, there are two other people who live in the apartment building--an older woman and a new tenant, a young Hispanic man. Both seem to be very mysterious. As the story unfolds, Josey, the young Hispanic man who we come to realize as a Jesus figure, is killed by a group of thugs, who try to lure Rueben, the addict, back into the drug scene through an assault. Josey, we realize, through silent vignettes before his death and in the recollections of the tenants after his funeral, has made a wonderful impact in each and every one of their lives. He has touched each of them in important and moving ways, befriending them and freeing them to live into their lives and their humanity. He has empowered transformation in each of them from individual desperation into a community of hope, from the dark places of their lives into a light that each is left to bear in his absence--each of them, that is, except the mysterious older woman who turns out to be not so mysterious at all. Throughout the movie, she appears in the hallways, stiff-necked and haughty--a "by-the-rules" kind of person with an attitude--a Christian who passes up each and every opportunity for communion and fellowship with those around her--even (and most vividly portrayed) on her way to Church with Bible in hand! What an eye-opener! What a wake-up call! What a moment of truth … even if it is in the format of an outdated, played-out, cinematic "cheese-fest"! What a moment for the light to shine through the cracks--something I'll mention again later. In the calling of Matthew and the subsequent meal shared with Jesus amongst tax collectors and sinners, we get insight into God's working in new and mysterious ways. Matthew is an unlikely character--an unlikely disciple. He's a tax collector--despised by his fellow Jews as being unpatriotic and corrupt. Tax collectors were so looked down upon, that even their money was refused as alms, their testimony in courts of law not accepted. They were complete and utter outcasts. … Biblical scholarship suggests that Jesus knew Matthew … that they may have even been friends before Jesus says, "Follow me." But the two-fold message at the heart of the gospel today is that Matthew does follow Jesus, and maybe more telling for us who struggle to live into the fullness of Christ, that Jesus invites Matthew. The invitation and outcome signal more than just a mere conversation and response, though. The exchange shows a duality of trust and faith between Jesus and Matthew. A life in or with Christ requires transformation, but Matthew is never ostracized by Jesus for his situation. Both trust one another, showing faith, in whatever may be ahead for them. Matthew follows Jesus, and others see this. Most empowering is that in the invitation, Jesus sees in Matthew a child of God and a herald of the kingdom in the very midst of his unlikelihood--even before Matthew is awakened to his own destiny. Jesus says to Matthew two simple words that open the floodgates to newness and wholeness of life, and Matthew's eyes are opened to the blessings in his own life--so much so that he leaves all and follows Christ. And the joy of the sacred invitation to blessedness is then expressed through the sharing of a meal … Jesus amongst others who find themselves as outcasts, looked down upon by society, discarded, especially by adherents to the letter of the law. And what's more, the dinner is a lavish one--a feast and celebration. Jesus "reclines" with them in the sharing of the meal, typically the Greco-Roman manner for eating and the style reserved for Jewish banqueting. Here is Jesus, dining with tax collectors, their associates and others of similar repute. Here is Jesus teaching and spending time with the downtrodden and outcast, the burdened and the excluded … and the one's who don't get it are the so-called do-gooders--the ones who have spent their by-the-book lives labeling those outside the social and religious norms. … Friends, if we are truly living into the Gospel of Christ, Love would not only lead us to an eternal paradise but to the very depths of hell. We are called as the people of God to bear witness to the light of Christ, bringing hope in all places of despair and hopelessness, being proactive more so than reactive, finding the hells of our world and naming them, freeing others to live into their humanity as children of a living God. We are called beyond labels, beyond judgments, beyond first impressions and character flaws. We are called beyond hindrances to relationship and true community--not just at this table and within these four walls but in that world out there that hungers for the news we can offer of a love above all loves. We are called to know this love for ourselves and to share it. Over the last week, I have had a couple of occasions to hear the gospel message proclaimed within the context of celebrations of ministry--once at the ordination of my Goddaughter's father and friend and again at the time of a priest and mentor's retirement. On both occasions, the gist of the messages has been this: To some degree we are called in our various lives and ministries as clergy and laity to be crackpots, literally owning the fact that we are cracked pots. It is from our own wounds, ourselves as broken vessels, that the healing balm of salvation can flow into and from us. This requires of all of us a vulnerability to something much greater than us--a vulnerability to follow God in Christ Jesus, who was himself both wounded and a great healer. Friends, we are called to see all who are around us just as we understand ourselves to be--children of God, who despite hang-ups and flaws, shortcomings and lack of conformities, struggles and private hells--our own or theirs--that we are all loved simply because we are … simply because … This is the grace of our faith in God. May we ever know the healing love of God in our lives. May we ever share this message of hope to those in need. May we be empowered and strengthened by the Spirit to live beyond and bear witness in the midst of the hells of our world. May the cracks in our own lives ever reveal in those places the glory of God in Christ Jesus to all who we may encounter. May this table ever be a place of healing and wholeness--one from which we go forth to minister in God's holy name. Amen.   ** Historical background information in this sermon gathered from: The Interpreter's Bible (vol. VII). George Arthur Buttrick, commentary ed. New York: Abingdon P., 1951.