Out to Lunch

Jesus went out again beside the sea; the whole crowd gathered around him, and he taught them. As he was walking along, he saw Levi son of Alphaeus sitting at the tax booth, and he said to him, “Follow me.” And he got up and followed him.
And as he sat at dinner in Levi’s house, many tax collectors and sinner were also sitting with Jesus and his disciples – for there were many who followed him. When the scribes of the Pharisees saw that he was eating with sinners and tax collectors, they said to his disciples, “Why does he eat with tax collectors and sinners?” When Jesus hear this, he said to them, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick; I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.”

This past summer, one of the attorneys I worked for gave me the nickname “free-lunch” because if he took me with him when he went out to eat, he could get reimbursed by the firm. Hey, I’ll happily take the nickname! I’m already studying to be a lawyer. If you can’t take a little good natured ribbing, don’t pick the profession! And besides, I quickly discovered that a great deal of in-town networking occurred informally around the lunch counters in downtown Mobile. It was good to get out and be seen being seen. Or something like that.
But what do you do when the ribbing isn’t good natured? Or, more to the point, it isn’t ribbing at all. In this passage, the whole idea of going out to lunch brought to a head a central question about Jesus: What gives? How can you eat with "those people?"
Those people? Before I come down too hard on the Pharisees, let’s play “what if?” Now, I distinctly remember how honored I was as a seminary student whenever one of the professors would join me and my friends at lunch (Yes, we really were that nerdy). Even today I find myself deeply influenced by the time my professors spent in instruction, and I hear Don Juel’s voice even now as I try to work my way through Mark. I was proud to have the privilege to be taught, whether that was in the class room or over bowls of the killer soup and bread they had at the caf. Juel, Gaventa, Wagner, Miller: I’m proud to say they taught me (even if no one but Micah, Ryan, Fuzzy, Stephanie and a couple of others know who I’m talking about!). So, what if the problem was as much that the Pharisees were jealous as they were appalled? Though it is beyond the scope of this study to offer extensive proof, some scholars have argued that the style of debate Jesus engages in throughout the Gospels is characteristically pharisaic. Could it be that they simply found it unbearable that Jesus would squander his talents on sinners, tax collectors, and other unworthy ears while there were perfectly good Pharisees he could be sparring with? The Pharisees could at least engage in an informed dialogue. Just imagine the remedial work and dumbing-down Jesus must have had to do make himself clear around “those people!” Again, taking the side of the Pharisees, we can at least take comfort in the thought that when the Pharisees engaged in an “us v. them” form of discrimination, they thought Jesus would surely be an “us.” Hmm. I think a lot of “us” still have that fantasy that Jesus would eat with “us” and not “them.” Surely we aren’t a “them!” Are we? Oh, wait! Jesus ate with the “thems.” Hmm. I want to change my position! I think. I want to be whatever it is that gets Jesus to my table!
I remember when I made the move from traditional, active ministry to law school. I caught some strange looks and comments, not just from those in ministry, but also from fellow travelers on this new path I’ve chosen. How could I spend all that time learning at the feet of theological greats, only to squander my education by hanging out with lawyers and sinners? Now, I don’t mean to compare myself to Jesus, nor do I intend to accuse my lawyer friends of being sinners. If there is a sinner in the “lawyers and sinners” equation, I’ll be the first to raise my hand to confess the role of sinner. But my point is this: Jesus taught, as much by action as by word, that sometimes you gotta leave the ninety-nine Pharisees on the hills to fend for themselves while you go have lunch with the sinner, the tax collector, the lawyer, whoever “those people” happen to be. Let’s face it: some folks who desperately need to hear about the forgiveness of Jesus won’t go near a church because, well, church people are there! And some church people won’t go near where the sinners are because, well, there’s sinners out there! The solution? LUNCH! I’d call it a beautiful metaphor for what ministry is, but I don’t think we’re dealing with a metaphor. I actually think there is some very real ministry that can occur when we are willing to offer the extra chair, to share our lives and our lunches with others. We don’t need another program. We don’t need another evangelism course. We need to sit down together, share some soup and bread, maybe a pint or two, and rediscover the Jesus who invites himself over to dinner. It is not an exhaustive theory of evangelism, fellowship and outreach. But it is a great idea.
Oh, Lord, please invade our tables. We humbly invite you to lunch, and you’re welcome to crash at my place anytime you want. I can’t guarantee you, Lord, that the company won’t include a few colorful characters and few sinners like me, but I promise that you are always welcome here. Teach us as much as you are willing and as much as we are able to hear. First round is on me!
Amen.

Son Roof

When Jesus returned to Capernaum after some days, it was reported that he was at home. So many gathered around that there was no longer room for them, not even in front of the door; and he was speaking the word to them. Then some people came, bringing to him a paralyzed man, carried by four of them. And when they could not bring him to Jesus because of the crowd, they removed the roof above him; and after having dug through it, they let down the mat on which the paralytic lay. When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, “Son, your sins are forgiven.” Now some of the scribes were sitting there, questioning in their hearts, Why does this fellow speak in this way? It is blasphemy! Who can forgive sins but God alone?” At once Jesus perceived in his spirit that they were discussing these questions among themselves; and he said to them, “Why do you raise such questions in your hearts? Which is easier, to say to the paralytic, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Stand up and take your mat and walk’? But so that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins . . .” he said to the paralytic “I say to you, stand up, take your mat and go to your home.” And he stood up, and immediately took the mat and went out before all of them; so that they were all amazed and glorified God, saying, “We have never seen anything like this!”

I’ve read and preached this passage more than a couple of times. It’s just good material! But a few weeks back, during a particularly stressful night, I reached for my bible, read this passage, and found myself no longer able to agree with the amazed crowd: I have seen something like this before!

One chapter earlier, Mark records the moment when God invaded the space and time of humanity. God, ripping a hole in the sky, lowers God’s voice down through the sky above, and says, “You are my Son, the beloved; with you I am well pleased.” Now, just a few short stories later, humanity is returning the favor! A handful of devoted friends rip a hole in the ceiling above, lower their paralyzed friend through the hole, and the voice of compassion incarnate speaks, “Son, your sins are forgiven.” This is life imitating art imitating life! Talk about being made in God’s image! I was moved to see that the love affair between God and humanity is not above ripping holes in the sky, the ceiling, or even our own misconceptions about God’s propensity to forgive sins.

I think it also important to recognize the embrace of community in this moment. The recipient of this great gift, at least as the story records it, asked for none of this. The friends took the prerogative to seek out Jesus. The friends took the initiative to remove boundaries separating their friend from Jesus. In a pre-Americans-with-Disabilities-Act era, this community found their own way to remove obstacles to participation in the community of God’s people.
And what about the real question? Which is harder? To forgive sins or escape paralysis? The answer being, of course, “Yes.” They are both pretty difficult, and at least metaphorically related. Sin is its own form of paralysis, sometimes even robbing the people who need help most of access to it. And paralysis comes in many forms, even beyond issues of sin. Sometimes a relationship, sometimes a project at work or school, sometimes a painful memory. Hey, pick your own pet paralysis, your own stock footage of shame and regret in the TiVo of your mind. Guess what? We’ve all got ‘em. What we hopefully also have are friends who will refuse to let us stay imprisoned on our mats. Hey, some days you might be able to shake it off, find your own way, and seek help as needed. But there may come a day when the gentle but strong support of friends of faith will be what overcomes the barriers, rips holes in roofs, and brings us back to the place where our ears can be greeted with the strangely soothing words, “Oh, my son, oh my daughter! Whatever else happens today, please know this: I forgive you. Get up and walk. It's OK to go home now.”