Rejection and Invitation [Proper 9A]
The Rev. Jeremiah Williamson
Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30
Rejection and Invitation
“Meh.” That was the
response. It's deflating; that is a
deflating response. John the Baptist was
tearing it up. Yelling words of judgment
– the veins on his temples
pulsing. He was spinning amazingly
devastating metaphors about hacking trees with axes and broods of vipers. He was fearlessly calling powerful people out
for their indiscretions. He was drowning
sins in the river. He was making the way
for the Messiah and the kingdom of God.
He was fired up for some repentance.
He was wailing, but no one mourned.
He was the prophet for which they had long waited, but, you know, folks
were busy. And so instead of falling on
the mercy of God, folks walked by the river, shrugged their shoulders, and let
out a collective, “meh.”
But that was John; I mean, he was a
big deal but it's not like he was the Messiah.
Now Jesus, that guy is the Messiah.
Generations lived and died just hoping for him to show up on the scene. He was the one the prophets promised. And he was walking the walk. Jesus was healing folks here, casting out
demons there, preaching salvation everywhere.
His message was an invitation, an invitation to join the kingdom of
God. He came to usher in God's reign – a reign of abundance, joy, and love. It was exciting stuff, excessive even. I mean, he fed 5000 people with a couple of
fish and a few pieces of bread – and there
were baskets of left-overs. And his
guest list was ridiculous; he invited everybody – even those
people everybody else hates. Jesus was
talking good news and living good news.
Jesus was jamming on his flute like a 1st century Ron Burgundy, and no one danced. He was the Messiah, but you know how it is,
folks were kind of skeptical and he did eat a lot, and he spent a lot of time
with losers. Jesus offered salvation,
but everybody was like, “Meh. I
don't know. You kinda drink a lot, so....”
Rejection: that's what it was. Not the angry, adamant rejection that would
come later – not a beheading or a crucifixion – but a general apathy.
It was puzzling for Jesus' earliest followers. As far as they were concerned, there was
absolutely nothing else better or more important in the world: they found
Jesus, the Messiah, the Son of God. God
was with them and for them and it was a miracle – the
miracle of miracles; but most everyone was just kind of disinterested.
I suspect the disinterest was hard
for those Christians in Matthew's community to understand. Living a generation or two after Jesus'
ascension, many of them never had the opportunity to meet Jesus in the flesh. They had been reborn by his Spirit; they had
encountered him in the other members of the Church, in their brothers and
sisters in Christ, and in the breaking of the bread. But they never had the opportunity Jesus'
contemporaries had. And yet many of
those who knew him in the days of his earthly life and witnessed his ministry
and heard his words, did not even care.
It must have been confusing and also kind of devastating, unfair even.
But also familiar. Because every generation of the Church has
experienced the same thing. The good
news, the Gospel, seems irresistible – especially
to those of us who are hooked. But it is
not. And in the same way Jesus' works
and words drew an often tepid response, so does the Church's witness still
today.
I remember when I was new to the
Episcopal Church. After many years in a
fundamentalist Christian tradition, a tradition that had become burdensome to
me and oppressive to my spirit, coming into the Episcopal tradition was for me
a fresh experience of the Gospel. I was
excited. And, as converts usually are, I
was very happy to tell others about this new church. And I did.
And my enthusiasm was mostly met with confusion and disinterest. There was a lot, “that's nice” - a polite
way of saying, “meh”.
The world has this way of teaching
us to hide those things we most treasure, to protect them from ridicule or
worse from disinterest. I've had a
number of folks privately confess to me on their death bed. But you know, usually it is not a sin they
wish to confess; instead it is usually a life-changing experience of God from
years earlier – something amazing that they never
shared with anyone. Because it is hard
to risk it. It is hard to offer up
something so beautiful and meaningful in a world that often responds with cool
apathy. Jesus took on the human struggle
to share the most amazing message of all and was met mostly with rejection
after rejection after rejection.
And after everything, after every
disinterested, apathetic, underwhelming human response to the Gospel, Jesus
says, “Come to me, all you that are weary
and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon
you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find
rest for your weary souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
This is the Gospel: that Jesus
responds to rejection after rejection after rejection with yet another
invitation. Always another
invitation.
We live in a wearied world, with
weary people – people with broken hearts, who are
afraid to risk those broken hearts yet again.
But, in the words of St. Augustine, “You have
made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in
you.”[1] God knows, we need Jesus. And so the ever-rejected Jesus continues to
risk his heart – for us, for an apathetic world,
for a weary people who are desperate for rest.
An invitation in response to rejection; an open invitation that will
never close.
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