Not One of Them

Levi was a traditional name—it was that of the 3rd son of Jacob (later known as Israel) and that tribe of Jacob became the priests—known as the Levites.  They were the ones who performed the priestly duties for all of Israel.  They were the ones who bridged the gap between the people and God.  And that would have been true for all of the men in that family. Since in that time you did what you father did for work and what his father did before him and his father before him.  

So when we hear that this man is named Levi we know a bit about him.  We know he’s a Jew, from the line of Levi, son of Jacob.  His father would have been a priest, and his father before him. And Levi, the tax collector, would have been expected to be a priest too. Yet he’s not. So we know that somehow, some way, something went wrong and derailed him from that course.  We have no idea why or how, but he missed or skipped the priest boat.  And now, instead, he’s a tax collector, which happens to be one of the most despised professions in all of Israel. 

You see, tax collectors didn’t work for Israel or the temple. They worked for Rome. They collected taxes for Cesar. And the Romans were basically occupying Israel. So when you worked for Rome, you were working for the enemy…you were a traitor.  But it got worse.   Because the tax collectors sort of worked on commission…the more they taxed, the more they made. Some inflated taxes so they could line their pockets.  In any case, it wasn’t just that they were traitors for working for Rome, but that they were lying, thieving traitors who stole from their family and friends.  Needless to say, they were not held in great regard. 

Can you imagine the pain and the shame his parents felt?  I mean, not that a son is responsible for all of his parents feelings about his choices—they were his choices and he had the right to make them, but imagine their strain on their relationship.  He’s set to be in one of the most respected fields for all the Jews and instead he becomes a lying, thieving, traitor who works for Rome and steals from his people.  

Can you imagine?  

So, Levi is a let-down, a family failture. He’s rejected. He’s likely shunned. He’s considered a low-life, not just by his family but by pretty much everyone—because they don’t want to be living in a place that’s occupied by Romw and they knew they were paying a good chunk extra on taxes to pad Levi’s pockets—-Let’s just say he wasn’t going to get the good neighbor award anytime soon.  

And then Jesus comes to town and he sees Levi and says, “Follow me!” Now that sounds like a simple instruction but it’s not really about physical following--it’s about becoming a disciple. A better translation might be, “Come imitate me.” And Levi says, “Ok!”  He’s on board and excited.  He’s so excited that he wants to throw a party. Who knows how long Levi had been a tax collector and if he’d come to love it for the money and luxuries or if he hated it because of what he had to do—but what we do know is that once he had the chance to get out—he went.  Forget the money. Forget the perks. And forget being hated by everyone—he was outta there.  “Follow you? Do something different?  Ok!  And, you know…Jesus, maybe you could meet my friends too—because after we started working for Rome, we really couldn’t get out of it—no one wanted to hire us after what we’d done. No one trusted us. They didn’t really care what we’d learned or how we’d grown or even how we’d been changed—they couldn’t get past our reputations and our past.  So, um…if you’re willing to give people a second chance, I know a lot of guys who might be interested.”  Levi had received grace and he wanted to share it. 

That’s the amazing thing about grace…not only do you want more for yourself, but you really want to share it. You want other people to know the goodness that you’ve experienced.  When I was appointed to Wesley UMC in Riverside, the church I served had some homeless guys who hung out on the steps all day and would regularly stay the night.  At first they weren’t really wanted.  No one wanted them around. They didn’t want their problems. Didn’t want their drinking. Just didn’t want to deal with them. 

But they kept hanging out.  Folks really struggled to accept these men. They used drugs. They drank all day. They didn’t work.  One hadn’t paid child support in years.  One had been on the street for 17 years.  They weren’t popular…none of the homeless were.  They were seen as a problem and no one really wanted to have to be the one to deal with it.  

I can imagine they had a similarly strained dynamic with their families as Levi did with his.  To be sure, homeless and on drugs or booze was not what their parents had envisioned for them. I doubt it’s anything near what they had envisioned for themselves. And yet, that’s where they were, that’s who they had become. Rejected. Isolated. Forgotten. Despised.  

And then they began to encounter grace. They were invited to worship. They were invited to have a hot meal. They were offered a hot shower. They were given clean clothes. They were told they had a safe place to sleep.  And we began to form friendships.  We learned their names, Allen and David, and they learned ours.  And then, much like Levi, they invited their friends.  More of the homeless came to this place for grace.  Jimmy, Cuca, Carlos, and little Allen (different from the original Allen).  Then others. And still others.  Each time someone was greeted with warmth and care and got a bit of what they needed in terms of food, or clothes, shelter or care, they talked about it with their friends…and so more came.  

And people objected, just like the Pharisees…why would you waste your time on them? They are a lost cause. And we were reminded again and again that Jesus came to save the lost; and so our work continued.  

Now, it’s not that the homeless are all a lost cause or considered the worst like the tax collectors. But in them and in their stories we can see the rift between them and their families. We can imagine the rejection and isolation they experience day in and day out. And we can imagine the excitement of being noticed, known by name, invited and included just like Jesus did with Levi.  And how receiving that grace could be life changing.  But there are other ways we end up with broken relationships with family: unmet expectations, differing paths, rejection, isolation, and all kinds of challenges. And in that we can see our own need for grace—to be acknowledged, called by name, invited, and included.  And that’s just what Jesus does. It’s who he is. He is the one full of grace who calls us in from the margins, away from being outsiders and into deep meaningful relationship.  

Did you know this isn’t the last we see of Levi?  It’s pretty much the last time we hear him called by this name, but if you’ve read or heard the gospels, you probably know him quite well….do you know who he is?  He’s the disciple Jesus calls Matthew.   Yep.  He went from being a failed priest, to a despised tax collector, to a disciple of Jesus, to one of the disciples who founded the church.  How’s that for full circle?  I guess he was meant to be a godly messenger after all?!  

The power of who Jesus is compels us, it draws us in, because it’s often starkly different from what the world tells us and how the world treats us.  Grace allows us to be defined not by who we were, but who we are as called by Christ—to be who we were meant to be.  The reality is we all fail. We all go off course, somewhere along the way. We disappoint. We struggle with broken relationships.  We stand isolated and hurting. We need grace. And Jesus comes to us, as outsiders among the lost and says “Follow me.”  And we have the choice to follow him….to choose grace and acceptance, love and inclusion.  And we need to be aware that when we do that, when we follow him….it’s not on a stroll down the road, it’s imitating who he is, it’s being transformed by love and then offering transforming love to others. As we become disciples of Christ, imitators of his ways, we begin to notice and find the outsiders, the lost causes and we are to invite them to grace and inclusion in our life.  

It sounds lovely and shiny when it’s preached in a sermon. But really, it’s messy and hard.  It’s hard to find the *right* answer between helping and enabling. It’s hard to find the right answer when people stay stuck in their addiction and we are continuously called to be people of grace. What does grace look like when it’s tied to accountability? They aren’t mutually exclusive.  This week we had a man come asking for help. He’s an outsider. He’s someone who is struggling and is seemingly without family support or a network of friends to hold him up as he journeys a rocky road.  And his struggles have made him rough, and a bit brash.  Quite frankly, it would have been easier to push him out the door and say, “sorry, we can’t help you.” But we are followers of Christ….imitators of his ways, and so we are challenged to include those who seem like lost causes.  We are asked to care for them and hold them even when no one else wants to. And the particulars of what that looks like can be difficult to work out, but we are called to get into the mix of it all and listen for God’s voice and work on working it out.  

The Levis of this world are not popular.  And they aren’t necessarily easy to work with. But they are beloved and favored by God and as imitators of Christ we are called to work with them offering grace and acceptance.  

Calling Plays & Time Outs (Commandments 3 & 4)

⁷ No using the name of God, your God, in curses or silly banter; God won’t put up with the irreverent use of his name.

^8-11 Observe the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. Work six days and do everything you need to do. But the seventh day is a Sabbath to God, your God. Don’t do any work—not you, nor your son, nor your daughter, nor your servant, nor your maid, nor your animals, not even the foreign guest visiting in your town. For in six days God made Heaven, Earth, and sea, and everything in them; he rested on the seventh day. Therefore God blessed the Sabbath day; he set it apart as a holy day.

When I was in Riverside, we worked a lot with a lot of people.  We worked with the teenagers, many of whom would spend their afternoons tucked away in a corner of the building smoking, or smoking out.  We also worked with the homeless, some of whom were chronically homeless having been on the streets for 10 or 15 years. And, as you might imagine, we had a fair number of issues.  We tried to offer  a safe place where people could receive food, a hot shower, fresh clothes, and God’s grace.  We also tried to be a place that didn’t permit illicit drug use, or enable bad behaviors.  Our policies and practices changed over the years as we adapted to the ministry needs and often, my name carried the greatest weight for enforcement.  People knew I was the pastor of the church and people knew that the pastor’s word was the law of the land.  That wasn’t my thing, it’s just how things panned out.  On more than one occasion, in an argument with a church member, one of our ministry friends would counter with, “Well, Pastor Debbie said I could.”  Generally the church folks knew better, but that wasn’t always the case.  And some of our friends would even use my name when the police came through claiming that I had offered permission for this or that or the other. But the best was when I would come upon someone new and offer a reminder of the rules and they would argue with me saying, “well Pastor Debbie told me I could.”  That was fascinating.  They used my name because they thought it held power.  But they had no idea who they were talking to or what “power” they might be invoking with that name. They had just been told that “Pastor Debbie” was the name to use in order to win the argument. 

I can laugh about it now, but at the time I would get frustrated that they were using my name in vain. I hadn’t talked to them. I hadn’t given them permission. Yet they were using my name for their purposes. 

I don’t equate myself with God, but those encounters help me catch a glimpse of what God is getting at when we are told not to take the Lord’s name in vain.  In simpler terms, the third commandment means, “Don’t use God’s name carelessly, as if it means nothing to you, or without an appreciation for the weight it holds.” Said in a positive light, “Use God’s name according to the power it holds.” 

God’s name is powerful.  Do you realize that?  I think most of us don’t believe that. It’s just a name. Sure it’s God’s name, but still it’s just a name. But according to the scriptures, God’s name holds power.  The Jewish scribes who used to copy the Bible by hand would stop every time they came upon God’s name. They would say a prayer before they wrote the name and then stop and say another prayer after they wrote the name.  Why? Because they understood and respected the power of God’s name.  The scribes knew it means something when it’s said aloud.  God’s name has the power to bless, to heal, to work miracles. And God’s name has the power to curse and to destroy. Just the name is powerful. And more often than not we use it as if it means nothing. We use it carelessly.  God wants more than that from us.  We are permitted to use God’s name, but with intentionality, respect and purpose. 

Let’s think about it in football terms:  If I wanted to yell a play, I might say “Blue 32, blue 32” to which my husband replies, “That’s a cadence, not a play.” And I say, “See, that just proves my point.”  It sounds like a play to me. And I want to sound official, so I say “blue 32” but I don’t have any idea what I’m calling or what it means, or what the other players are going to do as a result.  The calls means something. The numbers, the colors, the letters,  they all mean something. And if I want to be effective, I have to understand what I’m saying both for myself and for the other players.  But to be effective, I have to learn the game, learn the plays, learn the strategies, learn the positions, and learn the calls so that I can get my team to work together.  If I want things to happen, I have to know what I’m saying and say it with intentionality.  So, if in the huddle I call 34 blast, and then we get to the line and I see the defense has lined up differently, I have to call an audible to get my guys to move, we’re changing plays, so I call “Chocolate pudding! Chocolate pudding” which, for us, means “spread 2MO Jet TB Sweep 27.” Yeah that (indicate the picture). Admittedly, I have no idea what that means, not even with the picture.  I’m just saying what my husband told me to, but at least this time I could get the rest of the team to do what they’re supposed to do, unlike when I call “blue 32”. But to be good at the game, to be worth my salt as a player, I’d have to stop relying on Rick to clue me in and learn it all for myself.

It’s not an exact parallel, but it’s like that with God’s name.  We might use God’s name in ways and phrases that we’ve picked up. They seem to sound right, or make sense to us. Or we’ve been coached to say them. But honestly, we don’t really know what it means or what might happen if we say, “Be healed in Jesus’ name.”  or “God bless you” or even if we use “G. D.” Unless, we understand that God’s name has power and use it with meaning and purpose, we lose the opportunity to do amazing things for God’s sake.  If we really appreciated the power of God’s name and how to use it, we might have the faith and courage to heal the sick, give sight to the blind, or allow the lame to walk.  God’s name has the power to do all of that.  So the question becomes, will we learn God’s plays?  Will we use God’s name with purpose and intentionality? Or will we just pretend we know what we’re saying and only wish God would do something? 

The next commandment is the one to honor the Sabbath and keep it holy.  I don’t know why, but it seems like the 4^th commandment is taken as mere suggestion and considered kind of trivial.  I’m not sure most folks even think about what it would mean to practice Sabbath or keep the Sabbath day holy. We understand what it means to have a day off…it means you don’t go to your paid job, but instead you run around like a crazy person doing all your errands, washing dishes, doing laundry, and getting caught up on house work and yard work.  And most of us think our day off is our Sabbath and if Sabbath is errands and chores, it’s no wonder we think it’s kind of a worthless suggestion instead of a commandment that’s meant to benefit us. J. Ellsworth Kalas is a scholar and a professor and a pretty extensive writer and he translates the 4^th commandment like this: you shall keep the Sabbath for the Sabbath shall keep you.  The Sabbath shall keep you.  To understand what that means it’s actually most helpful to turn to the New Testament.  In the Gospels, we see Jesus heal on the Sabbath and he’s often rebuked by the Pharisees for breaking the Sabbath…for working.  But Jesus argues against them. In essence, he says, the Sabbath is meant to be restorative. It’s meant to offer healing, wholeness, and peace. The purpose of the Sabbath is redemptive. And so, when he heals, forgives and redeems on the Sabbath, he’s fulfilling the law, not breaking it.  So when Kalas says “the Sabbath shall keep you” he means, “the Sabbath will restore you, heal you, and offer you wholeness.” 

All of that sounds pretty different from running errands and doing chores.  Because most of the time those things aren’t restful or redemptive for us.  So what is?  Well, that depends on the person.  For some of us, sleep is redemptive. For some of us it’s reading a book. For others of us it’s a 20 mile bike ride. Others it’s a run. Others it’s cooking a meal, for others it’s gardening. For others it’s crafting.  There are lots of things that help us feel whole and complete, it all depends on who we are. 

When I was in seminary, I heard a talk about Sabbath that was really compelling. I had never practiced Sabbath before. Like most, I had been dismissive about its relevance in my life.  I would go to school all week and work on the weekends at a church, plus study, read, and write for my classes. Every day was full. Every day was busy. And every day required something from me. And then I heard that talk, and she talked about doing things that were good for her soul. That could include a pedicure or a massage or a good book.  And that sounded different and desirable. So I started practicing Sabbath. Even then, Sundays were a work day, so I decided to take Saturday instead.  Saturday was my Sabbath. No church work and no school work.  And at first it was really hard. I had intense feelings of guilt. I was supposed to be productive. I was supposed to be doing things.  And I had huge guilt that I wasn’t. I literally had to fight those thoughts and tell myself, “it’s ok to sleep or watch movies, today is your Sabbath, you can do work tomorrow.” I fought that for awhile, and, in time, what I noticed was if I allowed myself to rest on Saturdays and do what I wanted to do with my time, then when I went back to work and to school on Sunday, I had more energy and more drive. I wasn’t fatigued and always asking myself to give and do and be. Instead, I felt restored, my reserves were being filled on the Sabbath and I was better able to do my work on the other days.  Sabbath was becoming redemptive.  That time practicing Sabbath in seminary convicted me.  The Sabbath would keep me, it would heal me, fill me, and restore me.  It wasn’t some ridiculous thing God suggested, it was God’s gift to me and I was meant to enjoy it. 

I’ve continued to practice Sabbath.  Each week I have a dedicated day set aside for rest and restoration.  Admittedly, it’s different with a husband and a child.  There are some “jobs” like cooking,  diapers, and the demands of parenting that don’t ever really stop.  But instead of seeing those things as taxing, I try to think of what helps us rest and be restored as a family.  It’s not always naps, but those help. But it’s play time. It’s meal time.  It’s hanging out together.  And it’s not work.  Of course, there are exceptions. I’ve always been flexible to do a hospital visit, a memorial, or a wedding rehearsal on my Sabbath.  But, for those things that can wait, they do. It’s important that I allow God to fill me before I try and do my job day in and day out.  The scriptures encourage us to work and to do our job well. They also say we should rest and keep it holy.  Holy in the Hebrew is qadash and it means holy and hallowed, it also means set apart.  God is holy for who God is but also because God is separate and set apart. So in keeping the Sabbath holy, we are meant to set that day apart and find time with God.  Some of us are wary of that part. We think it means we have to sit and meditate or pray all day. But I don’t think that’s the commandment. I believe we can find God in the things we love and enjoy. I listen better for God’s voice when I’m rested and enjoying life.  I find God in Ruth’s laughter. I find God in my own laughter. I find God in Rick’s hugs. I find God in a savory meal. I find God in the creativity of a good book. I find God in the construction of a sewing project.  I find God in the restoration of order in my house.  We don’t do every Sabbath the same.  Each Friday is different.  But the sacredness is in our time away from work and the demand to be productive.  The divine is present in the moments where I am receptive to God at work and I’m more receptive when I’m not stressed and drained. 

Most of us have made the mistake of treating the Sabbath like a time out.  We think if we take a momentary pause from our work, that’s enough.  But restoration and redemption take more than that.  If we play a long hard football game, a two minute time out isn’t going to do a whole lot for us. It allows us to catch our breath and get a swig of water. But it doesn’t allow our muscles to relax, our bodies to be cleaned, our mind to stop focusing on what we have to do.  We should play a good game and give the best of what we have, and take our time-outs, our momentary breathers. But beyond that, we need the Sabbath. We need a chance to slow down and stop. We need to not be plagued by productivity. Instead we need to relish and enjoy the fruits of our labor.  We need to allow God to fill our spirits and restore our bodies.  Most of us are convinced we can’t afford to do that. There’s too much responsibility. There’s too much to do. But really, we can’t afford not to do it.  The Sabbath shall keep us.  It shall be our life source in the midst of our busyness. It shall be a time set aside for us to attend to our souls—maybe reading scripture and praying, or maybe simply being present in the things we love most. 

I will say this, the transition can be tough. You will likely have to quash the voices that tell you there’s no time for this, that you have work to do, that you need to be more productive.  Tell them to be quiet and come back tomorrow. Your day of Sabbath is a gift that is meant to be enjoyed.  Amen.