This is the text of the message I prepared for proclamation at Stawell (St Matthew’s) Uniting Church for Sunday 24th September 2023, the seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost in Year-A.
Exodus 16:2-15; Psalm 105:1-6, 37-45; Philippians 1:21-30; Matthew 20:1-16
Today we gather in St Matthew’s Church Stawell in the week that the Western Church celebrates St Matthew. His saint’s day is actually 21st September, but since we weren’t here on Thursday we will mark the occasion today.
The gospel accounts we have been reading this year in the lectionary cycle have Matthew’s name on them, but the earliest copies of Matthew that we still have, dating from the early 100s AD, are anonymous. Matthew doesn’t name himself in his gospel in the same way that Paul names himself in his letters; and whilst there is a character named “Matthew” in Matthew there are plenty of other named characters, (including one named Jesus), and none of them make a claim to be author. (The character Matthew also appears in Mark and Luke.) Nonetheless we will assume that Matthew wrote this gospel, because it actually doesn’t matter whether he did or he didn’t: it doesn’t matter today in church anyway.
Assuming that Matthew, also named Levi, is the author of this gospel, and assuming (as most scholars do) that he used Mark as his source, as well as his own research and eyewitness records, we know something else about Matthew at the time that the gospel was being written. Matthew lived alongside Jesus, so 30AD give or take; but it seems like he wrote his gospel 75-80AD give or take. This means that Matthew was looking back as an elderly man, back through the destruction of the temple of Jerusalem, back through the persecution of the churches by various local leaders and emperors, back through the split of the Christian local fellowships away from the synagogues, and back through the resurrection. If you have seen any episodes of The Chosen, the multi-season television series, you might remember Matthew as a social outsider, perhaps an autistic figure, who is constantly making notes. Whether that is a true picture or not the point is that Matthew was written with hindsight for a community undergoing great upheaval and transition. The experiences of the first two generations of Christians made sense in the memory of the cross, and the cross made sense in the memory of the life of Jesus. This is the shape of new wineskins for new wine.
Two weeks ago I somewhat unsuccessfully tried to tell you that I am interested in stories. The sound wasn’t good in here that day, a bit echoey in the microphones, and some of my big words left you baffled. I apologise for both of those things. Nonetheless, I am interested in stories, and more than that I am interested in why we tell the stories that we tell. That’s actually what “Sociolinguistics and Narrative Theory” is. Don’t worry about the big words, listen to the explanation; the stories we tell ourselves as a group also tell other people something about our group. For example, Christians are always talking about the death and resurrection of Jesus: but why? Well, because we believe that to be the most significant event in the history of the universe. The Passion is not just a story for us, it’s our reason for being; it’s our deepest, most meaningful thing. We tell that story because that story keeps us alive, alive with hope and with confidence. Matthew drafted the story of Jesus to remind his community who they were, (the Church), and whose they were, (the Risen Christ’s own), because the days were dark and scary and they needed to be reminded of these things.
In Exodus 16 this morning we read of another community who needed to be reminded of who and whose they were. Two weeks ago and that same day of big and baffling words we heard the story of the Passover night, where God told Moses to tell the Hebrews to make sure that they were wearing pants at the dinner table. Today’s story occurs one lunar month after that, and we find God’s People well into the wilderness and feeling frustrated, tired and hungry. “Are we there yet?” is all that they can say. Four weeks after leaving dead the eldest sons of Egypt, four weeks after leaving dead the armies of Egypt beneath the Red Sea, all The LORD and Moses hears from God’s People is a multitude of sulking. The LORD tells Moses that relief is coming in the form of meat and bread, and that it will come every day for as long as it is needed. The actual words of God are that God’s People can trust in the provision the LORD.
That is a strong message. God hears the sighing desperation of God’s People and God responds immediately with grace and provision. There is no indication in this passage that God is dismayed by the people’s attitude, only a recognition that there is a need which the people require God to meet. In other places God gets annoyed and angry with the people’s stubbornness, but on this occasion God simply addresses the need. There is a legitimate claim on God’s provision, and God fills that need to the very top. Moses and Aaron on the other hand are upset by the whinging; perhaps they too are tired and hungry so they’re not in the mood to hear it. “Why don’t you tell God” they say in desperation, “it’s not our job to feed you”. Of course, this also means “are you prepared to tell God?” and of course God’s People are more than ready to tell The LORD in no uncertain terms what they think about The LORD’s lordship. Nonetheless The LORD provides. However, with that provision comes a test of obedience. Will Israel obey God and gather only a day’s supply, or will they hoard the manna in case it is a “once off” event. Will God’s People trust God’s promise to send the quail and the manna tomorrow? God is revealing something about Godself in this miracle: that God is faithful, generous, and dependable. God will not allow the exodus people to die of starvation or dehydration; this is a sign that God is with them and that the God who is with them is like this. God will also not dump a vast supply on the people and then walk away: God rations the provision because God intends to walk with the people each step of the day and each day of the way.
Can you think why that would be a good story to write down and remember, and then to tell further generations? That’s the sort of thinking Matthew had. We also see it in Psalm 105, which often pops up in the lectionary for this sort of story-telling exercise. When we remember who God is and what God has done for us we are reminded of whom we are. We are God’s People and the people that God does this sort of thing for. So, don’t worry.
One of the things that sets Matthew apart from the other three gospels is the dignity that Matthew (the author) ascribes to Jesus. Jesus is very much in control of every situation in John, and he is the undoubted messiah in all four gospels, but in Matthew he’s practically regal. In our reading from Matthew 20 we find Jesus telling a story about dignity.
The main meaning of the parable is that it doesn’t matter to Jesus as he’s telling the story one day in Judea, or to Matthew when he’s writing down the story fifty years later in Antioch, it doesn’t matter when you choose to follow Jesus. What matters is that you choose to follow Jesus. The wages of righteousness are the same whether you entered the kingdom at one minute past dawn or one minute before dusk, everyone gets paid the full amount. In the justice of God everyone gets blessed the same, which is to say that everyone gets blessed completely: there’s no half-blessing for latecomers. In the wilderness God fed every Hebrew until his or her tummy was full, regardless of who was sooking hardest and who was quietly faithful. If you belong now, you get blessed now. If you don’t belong yet, you get an invitation to belong, and as soon as you belong you get what the rest of us have been getting every day since we first accepted the invitation. When we read Matthew 20:16 and the last shall be first and the first shall be last, that can come as a bit of a surprise ending to the story; but if everyone gets enough why would it matter? God is inviting us to be generous in choosing to receive generously, which if you think about it is also a bit back-to-front.
Matthew presented Jesus as a Jewish king in his gospel account, but as you already know (because you’ve heard this story before), Jesus wasn’t the sort of king that the Jewish people were expecting. Saul of Tarsus was a Pharisee, not only a Jewish man (from the tribe of Benjamin), but also one who read and understood the scriptures within tradition and with application, and he missed who Jesus was when Jesus came. Today we might describe the Pharisees as “Evangelicals”; not because today’s Evangelicals are Pharisaic (an insult), but because the Pharisees were the people who read the scriptures and sought God whole-heartedly in their studies, their discussions, and their prayers. Saul the Benjaminite, the Pharisee, became one of the last, acknowledging Christ and accepting that invitation to fellowship years after the twelve and the five thousand had; but Saul did, eventually, accept that invitation, and thereby became one of the first. We know from his story recorded in Acts 9 that he copped a face-full of Jesus on the Damascus Road, and in later chapters and in the letters he wrote we find evidence of his changed heart that worshipped and adored king Jesus with all of its Pharisee talent and insight.
In Philippians 1:21 we read where Paul writes to one of the first churches in Europe that for him living is Christ and dying is gain. Paul has abandoned himself to the generosity of God, and whatever hardship he faces as an apostle and a traveller, it’s all about Jesus and so it’s all worth it. In Philippians 1:27-28 he shifts his focus away from his personal story to encouraging the members of this local church, and he writes only, live your life in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ…this is evidence of your salvation and this is God’s doing. They too would live hard lives, some of them already were, and this was what was coming. Their resilience in the face of destruction was their witness, their generosity in the face of lack, their hope and reliance upon God in the face of despair. Their dignity even as they were being denied came from the Christ in whom they hoped and in whom they had great cause to hope. The God of the living first-born sons, rams and bulls, the God of the dry-footed travellers in the Red Sea, the God of manna and quail, the God of a full day’s pay for every man in the field regardless of his point of arrival, the God we sing about in the Psalms and hear about in the Torah and the Traditions, this is the God in whom you have hoped. So stay strong, strong in the strength of The LORD because there is provision of that too, it’s not just meat, water and coins that God can do.
As a Christian alive in Stawell today I am grateful to God for Paul, and his word of encouragement. I am grateful to God for Matthew Levi, the Son of Alphaeus, and his gathering and offering the stories of Jesus. I am grateful to God for the Christians alive in Stawell in 1868, and earlier, who erected this building to the glory of God and for the provision of the local church to have a safe, sturdy, warm (sometimes) and dry place to gather in The LORD’s name and for Christ’s purposes. But above all I am grateful to God for Jesus, who not only told a great story about the generosity of God, but who also lived a life of generosity as an example to us of what a life lived in God’s wisdom can look like.
My advice to you then, as the person nominated to proclaim the gospel today, is that you be generous. Don’t complain about being short-changed, like the people in today’s stories. When life is hard, remember that you have not been left to starve; have another quail, take your day’s wages and go. There is enough and more for all, go forth, and receive generously.
Amen.
damienwrites 