Start the Party

Luke 5:27-32

June 30, 2024 • Mount Pleasant UMC

Most everyone loves a party, right? Celebrations usually bring out the best in us, but of course the word “party” can bring up a whole lot of different images depending on your experience. For some, gathering around a grill with good conversation and great food is a party. For others, a party involves cake and streamers and presents and another trip around the sun. And for yet another group, a party involves adult beverages, loud music and maybe even a whole lot of people crammed into a small space. But whatever you associate with the idea of a “party,” it’s something most of us enjoy and even look forward to.

Here at Mount Pleasant, we love a good party. Every year in April, we host the “best party of the year:” Grace Gala. And it involves dancing and music and karaoke and limo rides and prom photos and all sorts of fun things. But we also host a summer party called Vacation Bible School or VBS. It’s a week-long party where kids and adults get to have fun, sing songs, play games and learn about Jesus. What better excuse for a party could there be? So a few years ago, we asked the question, “Why should the kids have all the fun?” And we decided they shouldn’t, which is why we take time every summer to ramp up for VBS by preaching through the stories that the kids are going to learn during the last week of July. So over the next few weeks we’re going to be looking at stories of parties from Scripture—and there are a lot of parties in the Bible, so we’re not going to begin to cover them all. But we will look at some parable parties—that is, stories by Jesus that have a party theme—and we will look at a celebration that broke out at a well in Samaria. But this morning we’re going to start with an unexpected party, one that was hosted by a traitor.

Sometimes he is called Matthew and other times he is called Levi. The best guess is that Levi was his Hebrew name, but since he was working for the Romans he had changed his name to Matthew. Levi is a priestly name; the Levites were the ones in ancient days who were responsible for Temple service, so when he turned his back on his people, undoubtedly he did not want to be reminded of that. So Matthew it was. And how did he turn his back on his people? Well, he went to work for the Romans as a tax farmer. And it wasn’t someone saw him and suggested him for the job. He would have put in a bid to the Roman authority, pursued the position and proven he would be good at it. When appointed, he would have promised to collect a certain amount for the Romans. Beyond that, they didn’t care what else he collected. He could charge whatever he wanted above the promised amount and keep that for himself, as long as Rome got their payment. Tax farmers could become very wealthy, sometimes even hiring others to do their work for them, but they gained that wealth on the backs of their fellow Jews. No one, then or now, liked taxes or tax collectors. When people are coming to be baptized by John the Baptist, Luke notes that “even tax collectors” were asking for baptism (3:12). It’s like he’s amazed that such lowlife could possibly be forgiven. It would be like us saying, “Even terrorists were baptized.” The Gospel authors usually lump “tax collectors and sinners” together, reminding us that Matthew and his co-workers were among the lowest of the low (cf. McKnight, Luke, pg. 92; Bock, Luke [IVPNTC], pg. 71).

So Matthew has a good but probably pretty lonely life. I mean, he would have had friends among the other tax collectors (we’ll get to them in a moment), but no one among his own people probably associated with him. And when your only friends might also be hoping to get your job, it is easy to feel pretty lonely in a crowd. And then along comes Jesus. The Gospels give us no indication that Matthew knew anything about Jesus before this moment, but when Jesus passes by Matthew’s tax booth, he only has to say two words to him to change Matthew’s life: “Follow me” (5:27). I love the way the series The Chosen portrays Matthew’s call; let’s take a look.

“And Levi [Matthew] got up, left everything and followed him” (5:28). I love what Jesus says in that scene: “Get used to different.” They put that phrase on a t-shirt because it’s so good and so true to Jesus’ mission. So, at the end of that scene, they’re all headed to a dinner party, hosted by Matthew, which is exactly what happens in Luke’s account. (Interestingly, when Matthew tells this story over in his Gospel, he doesn’t include the detail that he was the host of this party though many of our English translations throw that in anyway but it’s not in the original text.) (Matthew 9:9; Card, Luke: The Gospel of Amazement, pg. 80). However, this isn’t just a small, intimate meal for Jesus and his disciples. Luke says Matthew “held a great banquet” (5:29), probably with lavish food and entertainment. It may have been a huge party that went on for hours. What we do know is that, besides Jesus and the disciples (which now includes Matthew), there were two other groups there—one inside the home, and one apparently looking in from the outside.

Inside the house, Luke says, were the invited “tax collectors and others” (5:29). If you think Simon’s reaction in the video clip was strong at the thought of being around one tax collector, imagine how he might have reacted to a houseful of such people! If you want to get a gut sense of what it might have been like, one scholar suggests we imagine being at a table with “arms dealers, drug pushers, pimps, loan sharks and people who…sexually abuse others” (qtd. in McKnight 92). Yeah, it was that bad. Tax collectors were hated that much, and if you sat down at a table with someone in the ancient world, it meant you accepted them and they accepted you (cf. Bock 108). Several years ago, another gentleman and I had a disagreement, a sharp disagreement, and we spent some time trying to talk it out. I don’t know that we ever really understood the other person’s perspective, but we got to a place where we were at least not angry with each other. As the conversation ended, he said to me, “If I offer you my hand, will you shake it?” Because to him, a handshake meant acceptance even if we disagreed. The same thing is happening at this party. For Simon or any of the other disciples to sit down at the table with these “tax collectors and others” (Matthew calls the others “sinners” in his Gospel, 9:10) would mean they accept them. That was not an easy thing for these disciples to do, but that’s what happens. Luke says they eat together (5:29).

And that leads us to the other group, who are undoubtedly standing outside and, apparently, eavesdropping or looking in the windows or perhaps standing at the open door. They are the Pharisees and some interpreters of the religious law who are also Pharisees (5:30). These folks always seem to be around when Jesus is pushing the boundaries of what they think is appropriate. It’s like they’re always following Jesus. So they look around at the dinner party, this “great banquet,” and they’re taking names. There’s Jesus, there’s his disciples, and who is that other group? Oh, yes, every single person in the rest of the room is either a tax collector or a sinner. They know them, even if they don’t acknowledge them. Those people are ones good, respectable Jews should not hang out with. Pharisees, you might remember, were not clergy. They were lay people who were extraordinarily concerned with keeping the rules down to the smallest letter. They were the ones who spent a lot of their time making sure no one was breaking any kind of rules. Or you might say they were people who were afraid that someone, somewhere was having a good time. It was their self-appointed task to put a stop to it, to make sure everyone followed all the rules.

So the Pharisees stop one of the disciples as they pass by the open door (because there’s no way any of these religious leaders would ever set foot into the house with “those people” inside), and they ask, “Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?” (5:30). In other words, they’re reminding Jesus and the disciples, good Jews all, that hanging out with these people will contaminate them and certainly ruin their reputations. It’s not worth the risk. Except Jesus doesn’t see any risk here. He sees a party where people who need to come back to God are being given that chance. So, as I picture it, Jesus overhears the question and speaks up, probably silencing the whole room as he does. “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance” (5:31-32).

Can you imagine the awkward silence after that mic drop? I wish Luke had told us the reactions. Did the tax collectors and sinners say anything? Did the Pharisees slink away into the night? Did the music and entertainment eventually start up again? And was the hummus any good? Inquiring minds want to know! But here’s what we do know: Jesus is upending social conventions in this moment; he’s re-defining who is welcome at the table. He eats not just with the socially acceptable or even just with people who have acknowledged who he is. Jesus eats with the outcast; in fact, I might go so far as to say Jesus prefers to eat with the outcast. Everyone is welcome at Jesus’ table. The labels of disciple or tax collector or sinner no longer matter. Everyone is welcome at his table and when Jesus is at the table, it’s a party (cf. McKnight 92-93).

But here’s another thing that’s true at this dinner party: not everyone who needs healing is aware of their need. I think most often it’s the “tax collectors and sinners” who know something is wrong. They usually know they are in need. Something is missing. That is what is portrayed in the video clip; Matthew gets up and goes so quickly because he feels the hole in his heart. He knows something is missing and when Jesus calls him, there’s something in him that says Jesus can fill that hole. “Tax collectors and sinners” only need to be welcomed to the table and receive a “whiff of God’s grace” to respond to Jesus (cf. Bock 108). The ones who don’t know their need are those who believe they have it all together already, the righteous or we might call them the self-righteous—the Pharisees and teachers of the law in this story. They are convinced they have it all figured out. And usually they are the ones who believe that by following all the rules they make themselves acceptable to God. I know that well. I am by nature a rule follower. My family and friends will affirm that; I’m always careful to follow whatever rules there are. Well, except the speed limit, but that’s another story. Anyway, it’s very easy for me to become that legalistic Pharisee who wonders why others aren’t following the rules I think are appropriate. It’s work for someone like to believe in and grasp grace, to believe that others can be forgiven even before they follow all the rules. I sometimes say I’m a recovering Pharisee, and some days I’m not all that certain about the “recovering” part. But what I don’t want to be are the Pharisees in this story because, ironically enough, these so-called “righteous ones” are the ones who are trying to stand in the way of the so-called “unrighteous” people getting close to Jesus. When you read the Gospels, you can’t help but notice that Jesus tends to prefer hanging out with the so-called “unrighteous,” like at this party. Maybe it’s because they, more than the Pharisees, know that if there is a cure for their situation, it’s going to have to come from outside themselves. The Pharisees think healing will come when everyone obeys the law. The sinners know that the cure, healing, is much more than that (cf. Bock 109).

That’s essentially what Jesus says here in response to the Pharisees. He tells them they are the ones who are sick and need a doctor. Luke, who wrote this down, was most likely a doctor, so he would have loved this imagery. They are sick and need help, and then Jesus changes the image from being sick to needing to repent. The ones who think they are righteous are actually the sinners. The word there describing “sinners” is rooted in the word that means “to miss the mark.” It’s an archery term, meaning that the arrow was aimed at the goal but missed. It went elsewhere. That’s the Biblical idea of being a sinner; you’ve missed the mark God set before you. That’s what the Pharisees have done. They want to be holy; I don’t doubt their desire. They want to be close to God. They’ve just convinced themselves that the best way to do it, to please God, is to follow all the rules. All 613 commandments in the Old Testament and all the human-made rules that had grown up around those 613. Who could keep track of all that? Well, the Pharisees tried because they genuinely believed that was the way to God. But Jesus says they are sick. They need repentance because, in truth, repentance the only way to God. So I think the question that confronts the Pharisees and us is this: in what are we putting our hope? How are we trying to draw near to God? By keeping the rules? Or by trusting in Jesus through repentance? Are we looking for the cure from inside ourselves and in our own abilities or from outside ourselves by trusting the way (cf. John 14:6) God has provided through trusting Jesus?

So each week during this VBS series, we will have a “bottom line,” which is the lesson the kids will take home at the end of the night and, we hope, talk with their parents about. So some of you who have kids or grandkids are getting a jump start and will be ready for conversations about Jesus when they come home. Here’s the bottom line from this week’s story: “Jesus is a good reason to have a party.” That’s what Matthew decided. I know in the video clip it was Mary Magdalene and Jesus who suggested the dinner party, but in the actual text, it seems to say that the whole meal was Matthew’s idea. My guess is he was excited that, finally, he had been accepted somewhere. Jesus had specifically wanted him, called him, and he wanted to share Jesus with his tax collector and sinner friends. Matthew knew they needed the welcome and acceptance and even love as much as he did, so he put together a quick, lavish banquet (is that a thing?) and invited all these people who were normally not invited to dinner parties. Why? Because, of course, Jesus is a good reason to have a party. But I’m wondering what that might look like for you and me.

I knew a woman several years ago who loved to entertain and was often having groups over to her house for various dinners and parties. She was very gracious and welcoming. I would have said she had a gift of hospitality. But she realized one time when she was reading this passage that everyone she had over was either part of her church or another church. Most everyone she knew was already Christian and she was hosting mainly Sunday School parties and church-related cookouts. And that’s pretty normal; the longer we walk with Jesus and the longer we are a part of Christ’s body the church, the more our friends tend to be in that circle. It becomes harder to relate to those outside the church. Well, this woman decided she wanted to use her gifts to reach out to people who didn’t yet know Jesus, but she didn’t plan a big event. Not right away. Because she knew that the best way to reach people is through genuine friendships (cf. Bock 108). So that was her first step. She began to get to know the people who lived around her. And after a time, she invited them all to what was called a Matthew Party. That’s where you follow the model of Luke 5: Jesus’ disciples mixing with “tax collectors and others,” or in our day it would be a combination of church friends hanging out with folks who don’t yet know Jesus and doing that over dinner. There’s no agenda for a Matthew Party; Luke doesn’t say Jesus stood up and preached or called anyone to repent right then and there. In fact, his only recorded words are words of criticism directed at the religious leaders. In the text, we’re told they ate and drank together, so it’s likely there was hearty conversation, good food and lots of laughter. A Matthew Party is not about preaching; it’s about relationships that then will open the door to inviting them to get a little closer to the savior.

That might be a model that appeals to you; it might not. The bigger question is how do we connect with those who are not yet followers of Jesus and how do we help them see him for who he really is? How do we help others know that Jesus is willing to share a table with them? Because, after all, there is no better reason to have a party than Jesus. There is nothing more important in our life to celebrate. If we engage in other celebrations, why not one that celebrates Jesus? Because, as he himself says here, he came to call those who are far from him and invite them to come back home. He came to start the party and he is the reason for the party.

Sometimes I wish the Gospel writers had told us more. I mean, I know the main point is to tell us about Jesus, but I can’t help but wonder some things. Like what it was like to have conversation with Jesus around the table that night. Did anyone mention their jobs or the ways they betrayed their own people? I doubt Simon Peter kept quiet, since he rarely did. And did any of these tax collectors and others just leave the meal and go back to their work unchanged? I can’t imagine that after spending an evening in the presence of Jesus, listening to his stories and just being around him they could leave without something stirring in their souls. We don’t know, of course. Luke doesn’t tell us. And I suppose it’s possible that they left unchanged, just as it’s possible that millions of people gather in church services around the world today, in the presence of Jesus, and leave unchanged. Don’t let that be you this morning. Allow this time with him to ignite a celebration that never stops because, friends, Jesus is a good reason to have a party. Let’s party—I mean, pray. Let’s pray.