Sick People Like Us Will Always Need The (Divine) Doctor
Sermon
Sermons On The Gospel Readings
Series II, Cycle A
Jesus spent a lot of his time hanging around undesirable folks, not with "good" people like us. I mean here in today's gospel lesson we have the story of his calling Matthew, the tax collector (Matthew 9:9). Of course, most of us have our hang-ups with taxes. But in the eastern part of the Roman Empire in Jesus' day tax collectors were notorious for overcharging the taxed, often with harassment, and keeping the difference between what was actually owed and what was collected, for themselves. In short, they were regarded by many who lived in the Roman Empire as robbers, as crooks. Another problem was that such tax collectors violated Jewish tradition, because not only did they defile themselves in dealing with Gentiles, but also because they were actually employed by Gentiles like the Romans and the Herodians.1 No, tax collectors were undesirable people.
Associating with a sleaze like Matthew is not all Jesus did. Not only did he associate with Matthew, just one tax collector, he went and had a meal with a bunch of them and other sinners (Matthew 9:10)! It was scandalous for a good man like Jesus to associate with that crew. It was all the more scandalous from a Jewish perspective, given the fact that Jesus was eating with people who had already been polluted by association with those Gentiles.
What does all this have to do with you and me? I mean, we are not like that low-life with whom Jesus associated. You and I are good, decent people. Gee, we are a lot like the Pharisees who chastised Jesus for eating with the tax collectors and other sinners (Matthew 9:11). You know the answer he made: "Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick ... I desire mercy, not sacrifice. For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners" (Matthew 9:12-13).
These are hard words for good American Christians like us. After all, Americans think of themselves as basically good and decent people. In fact, there is a widespread consensus in America that we are all too healthy most of the time for a doctor. This message is even in the church. Poll data bears out the validity of this conclusion. A 2000 New York Times poll revealed that 73% of the American public believe that we are born good. Another, much more recent 2005 poll of American Christians conducted by the Barna Research Group revealed that only 54% of the public believe that works do not get us into heaven.2
Are you clear about what this means? About seven in ten Americans think that we are good, so good that we can contribute to our own salvation by pleasing God. There is no reason to think that these numbers have changed much in the past few years. "Good" folks like us are likely to avoid sinners and other low-life. Deep down, though we might not admit it, we sort of wish our Lord would avoid that type, too. After all, we don't welcome many of them into our church, and if they come in from off the streets or come from good backgrounds like us but get in trouble or get involved in affairs, we are quite likely to gossip about them. So had we been around Jesus when he sat down and ate with all those tax collectors and other sinners, you and I probably would have joined the Pharisees in complaining about the sort of folks with whom Jesus hung around. Of course, you will say that you are no Pharisee. But how welcoming are you and I to the sort of folks Jesus accepted? In fact, you and I are no better than they are.
In the church, there is another way of reinforcing these Pharisaic propensities. We speak of growing in grace. One of the most popular religious best-sellers in history, dealing with our purpose in life, tells readers that "God wants you to grow up ... It takes an intentional commitment."3 "We can get better," the most influential preachers in America say. What do you think? I'll tell you what it does to me. It lays guilt on me, and yet the American in me who wants to do for myself and improve myself likes it. In a way, those are sentiments not unlike the Pharisees expressed in the confrontation with Jesus.
The desire to suppress the seedy side of our human nature, to act as if we were not really that bad, or at least that we could get better, is part of the baggage you and I carry as a result of our fallen human nature. In his commentary on this text, the great Protestant Reformer, John Calvin, pointed out why we do not want to hear this message.
Hypocrites, being satisfied and intoxicated with a foolish confidence in their own righteousness, do not consider the purpose for which Christ was sent into the world, and do not acknowledge the depth of evils in which the human race is plunged ... The consequence is, that they are too stupid to feel the miseries of men, or to think of a remedy. While they flatter themselves, they cannot endure to be placed in their own rank, and that injustice is done them, when they are classed with transgressors.4
These are pretty harsh words. Calvin says that you and I are hypocritical and stupid, inclined to flatter ourselves. We think that we are so good that it is downright insulting to be grouped with sinners.
He is right, isn't he? I do not want to hear this message. I want to hear words about my potential, about my purpose, about what I can do, with a little help. I have had this experience in ministry in the last 25 years or so, and similar experiences are commonly reported among my colleagues. They and I have been requested, even warned, to "stop beating up" on the congregation, because "people come to church to feel good about themselves."
That is precisely the problem. You and I want to think that we are basically decent, at least that we are on the way to self-sufficiency, because that will demonstrate to ourselves that we are capable and have self-worth. We do not like being needy. We do not want to admit that we are in need of a physician, or we would remain forever dependent. And that is where our sin becomes diabolically apparent. We really do not want Jesus! The great American Puritan preacher of the eighteenth century, Jonathan Edwards, said it so well in what was perhaps his second most famous sermon, God Glorified in Man's Dependence.
Hence these doctrines and schemes of divinity that are in any respect opposite to such an absolute and universal dependence on God, derogate from His glory ... Now whatever scheme is inconsistent with our entire dependence on God for all ... is repugnant to the design and tenor of the gospel....5
You and I are really telling God that we do not need him if we fail to confess our insidious selfish sinfulness. The next time you do not want to make that confession, keep in mind that in our gospel lesson, Jesus told us Pharisees that he only came for sinners, not for the righteous (Matthew 9:13). Keep in mind that insight and how selfish you are in wanting all the credit for what you do.
Sin is selfishness. The essence of sin is selfishness, what the great African theologian of the early centuries Saint Augustine called concupiscence.6 You and I, he contended, are so starved for satisfying our needs, that we are almost like sex addicts, looking to please ourselves in everything we do. I really like what Martin Luther said about this matter. While lecturing on the book of Romans before the Reformation, he wrote:
For man cannot but seek his own advantages and love himself above all things, and this is the sum of all his iniquities. Hence even in good things and virtues men seek themselves, that is, they seek to please themselves and applaud themselves.7
There is no such thing as a good deed or sinless action. That is why we need Jesus, our spiritual doctor, throughout our lives.
In the same lecture series, Luther described the problems that emerge when we are unwilling to admit our sin. He told his students:
This is like the case of the doctor ... who wishes to heal his patient, but finds that he is a man who denies that he is sick, calling the doctor a fool and an even sicker person than himself for presuming to cure a healthy man. And because of the man's resistance the doctor cannot get around to recommending his skill and his medicine. For he could do so only if the sick man would admit his illness and permit him to cure him....8
But we all want to be great and good. What of those parishioners of mine and my colleagues who wanted to be built up in church? I want that for them, too. The gospel is about the good news of God's affirmation of us, of our true greatness. You need to be clear, though, what it is that makes you and me great.
The renowned seventeenth-century French intellectual, Blaise Pascal, has written:
Man's greatness comes from knowing he is wretched; a tree does not know it is wretched.
Thus it is wretched to know that one is wretched, but there is greatness in knowing one is wretched.9
How does knowing that you are wretched make you great? It is a healthy antidote to that selfishness which has been with us since the fall into sin, the selfishness with which you and I have been cursed since birth. But hanging around that doctor (Jesus) can make you healthy, pure, and well. Martin Luther put it this way one time in one of his 1535 lectures.
Thus if I look at Christ, I am completely holy and pure, and I know nothing at all about the Law; for Christ is my leaven. But if I look at my flesh, I feel greed, sexual desire, anger, pride the terror of death, sadness fear, hate, grumbling, and impatience against God.10
An awareness of our ongoing need of Christ is really the essence of the gospel, what it takes to be truly wrapped up in God. In the very sermon of his that I noted earlier, the great colonial-era American preacher, Jonathan Edwards, put it this way: "Faith abases men, and exalts God; it gives all the glory of redemption to him alone."11
Edwards has in a nutshell what is at stake for you and me in believing that we will always need the divine doctor (Jesus). If it were true that we could grow out of that dependence, presumably by our commitment, then you and I would be really exalting ourselves, not giving God all the glory. What do you want with your life? Jonathan Edwards and the entire Puritan tradition tell us that life is all about glorifying God and enjoying him forever.12
Enjoyment. That is wonderful thing about realizing your sickness, and not being so concerned about your growth in grace and level of commitment. Knowing that you are sick, that doctor Jesus is treating you, regards us as holy and pure, takes the pressure off you and me. That's what makes life enjoyable, an appreciation that no matter how much sicker we get with our crazy ventures, no matter our failures to get better, we have this wonderful, caring doctor working to heal us.
No two ways about it: In a paradoxical way, there is something wonderfully freeing, even comforting and inspiring in becoming aware of how (spiritually) sick and selfish you are. It helps you become more self-critical, perhaps more socially and politically alert, and certainly more tolerant, less Pharisaic, about other's foibles. Someone like that, always in need of the spiritual doctor, is likely to become more alert to the miracles in life, as we marvel that our beloved doctor and Lord can make any good emerge from our sinful, selfish motives. Life is truly miraculous and joyful when you continue to feel the need for our spiritual doctor! Amen.
____________
1. For more details on tax collectors in the Roman Empire, see Eduard Schweizer, The Good News According to Mark, trans. Donald H. Madvig (Richmond, Virginia: John Knox Press, 1970), p. 65.
2. New York Times magazine, 7 May 2000; Barna Research Online, "Beliefs: Salvation" 2005, at www.barna.org.
3. Rick Warren, The Purpose-Driven Life: What On Earth Am I Here For? (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Zondervan, 2002), pp. 179 ff.
4. John Calvin, Commentary On a Harmony of The Evangelists, Matthew, Mark, and Luke (1555), in Calvin's Commentaries, Vol. XVI.I, trans. William Pringle (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker Books, 2005), pp. 401-402.
5. Jonathan Edwards, God Glorified in Man's Dependence (1731), in The Works of Jonathan Edwards, Vol. 2 (Peabody, Massachusetts: Hendrickson, 1998), pp. 6-7.
6. Augustine, On Man's Perfection in Righteousness (415), XIII.31, in Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, First Series, Vol. 5 (Peabody, Massachusetts: Hendrickson, 1995), p. 71.
7. Martin Luther, Lectures On Romans (1515-1516), in Luther's Works, Vol. 25, ed. Hilton C. Oswald (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 1972), p. 222.
8. Ibid., pp. 202-203.
9. Blaise Pascal, Pensees, 114, trans. A. J. Krailsheimer (Harmondsworth, UK and Baltimore: Penguin Books, 1972), p. 59.
10. Martin Luther, Lectures On Galatians (1535), in Luther's Works, Vol. 26, ed. Jaroslav Pelikan (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 1963), p. 350.
11. Op cit, Edwards, p. 7.
12. Martin Luther, The Shorter Catechism (1646), Q.1, in The Book of Confessions (Louisville, Kentucky: The Office of the General Assembly, Presbyterian Church [U.S.A.], 1996), 7.001.
Associating with a sleaze like Matthew is not all Jesus did. Not only did he associate with Matthew, just one tax collector, he went and had a meal with a bunch of them and other sinners (Matthew 9:10)! It was scandalous for a good man like Jesus to associate with that crew. It was all the more scandalous from a Jewish perspective, given the fact that Jesus was eating with people who had already been polluted by association with those Gentiles.
What does all this have to do with you and me? I mean, we are not like that low-life with whom Jesus associated. You and I are good, decent people. Gee, we are a lot like the Pharisees who chastised Jesus for eating with the tax collectors and other sinners (Matthew 9:11). You know the answer he made: "Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick ... I desire mercy, not sacrifice. For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners" (Matthew 9:12-13).
These are hard words for good American Christians like us. After all, Americans think of themselves as basically good and decent people. In fact, there is a widespread consensus in America that we are all too healthy most of the time for a doctor. This message is even in the church. Poll data bears out the validity of this conclusion. A 2000 New York Times poll revealed that 73% of the American public believe that we are born good. Another, much more recent 2005 poll of American Christians conducted by the Barna Research Group revealed that only 54% of the public believe that works do not get us into heaven.2
Are you clear about what this means? About seven in ten Americans think that we are good, so good that we can contribute to our own salvation by pleasing God. There is no reason to think that these numbers have changed much in the past few years. "Good" folks like us are likely to avoid sinners and other low-life. Deep down, though we might not admit it, we sort of wish our Lord would avoid that type, too. After all, we don't welcome many of them into our church, and if they come in from off the streets or come from good backgrounds like us but get in trouble or get involved in affairs, we are quite likely to gossip about them. So had we been around Jesus when he sat down and ate with all those tax collectors and other sinners, you and I probably would have joined the Pharisees in complaining about the sort of folks with whom Jesus hung around. Of course, you will say that you are no Pharisee. But how welcoming are you and I to the sort of folks Jesus accepted? In fact, you and I are no better than they are.
In the church, there is another way of reinforcing these Pharisaic propensities. We speak of growing in grace. One of the most popular religious best-sellers in history, dealing with our purpose in life, tells readers that "God wants you to grow up ... It takes an intentional commitment."3 "We can get better," the most influential preachers in America say. What do you think? I'll tell you what it does to me. It lays guilt on me, and yet the American in me who wants to do for myself and improve myself likes it. In a way, those are sentiments not unlike the Pharisees expressed in the confrontation with Jesus.
The desire to suppress the seedy side of our human nature, to act as if we were not really that bad, or at least that we could get better, is part of the baggage you and I carry as a result of our fallen human nature. In his commentary on this text, the great Protestant Reformer, John Calvin, pointed out why we do not want to hear this message.
Hypocrites, being satisfied and intoxicated with a foolish confidence in their own righteousness, do not consider the purpose for which Christ was sent into the world, and do not acknowledge the depth of evils in which the human race is plunged ... The consequence is, that they are too stupid to feel the miseries of men, or to think of a remedy. While they flatter themselves, they cannot endure to be placed in their own rank, and that injustice is done them, when they are classed with transgressors.4
These are pretty harsh words. Calvin says that you and I are hypocritical and stupid, inclined to flatter ourselves. We think that we are so good that it is downright insulting to be grouped with sinners.
He is right, isn't he? I do not want to hear this message. I want to hear words about my potential, about my purpose, about what I can do, with a little help. I have had this experience in ministry in the last 25 years or so, and similar experiences are commonly reported among my colleagues. They and I have been requested, even warned, to "stop beating up" on the congregation, because "people come to church to feel good about themselves."
That is precisely the problem. You and I want to think that we are basically decent, at least that we are on the way to self-sufficiency, because that will demonstrate to ourselves that we are capable and have self-worth. We do not like being needy. We do not want to admit that we are in need of a physician, or we would remain forever dependent. And that is where our sin becomes diabolically apparent. We really do not want Jesus! The great American Puritan preacher of the eighteenth century, Jonathan Edwards, said it so well in what was perhaps his second most famous sermon, God Glorified in Man's Dependence.
Hence these doctrines and schemes of divinity that are in any respect opposite to such an absolute and universal dependence on God, derogate from His glory ... Now whatever scheme is inconsistent with our entire dependence on God for all ... is repugnant to the design and tenor of the gospel....5
You and I are really telling God that we do not need him if we fail to confess our insidious selfish sinfulness. The next time you do not want to make that confession, keep in mind that in our gospel lesson, Jesus told us Pharisees that he only came for sinners, not for the righteous (Matthew 9:13). Keep in mind that insight and how selfish you are in wanting all the credit for what you do.
Sin is selfishness. The essence of sin is selfishness, what the great African theologian of the early centuries Saint Augustine called concupiscence.6 You and I, he contended, are so starved for satisfying our needs, that we are almost like sex addicts, looking to please ourselves in everything we do. I really like what Martin Luther said about this matter. While lecturing on the book of Romans before the Reformation, he wrote:
For man cannot but seek his own advantages and love himself above all things, and this is the sum of all his iniquities. Hence even in good things and virtues men seek themselves, that is, they seek to please themselves and applaud themselves.7
There is no such thing as a good deed or sinless action. That is why we need Jesus, our spiritual doctor, throughout our lives.
In the same lecture series, Luther described the problems that emerge when we are unwilling to admit our sin. He told his students:
This is like the case of the doctor ... who wishes to heal his patient, but finds that he is a man who denies that he is sick, calling the doctor a fool and an even sicker person than himself for presuming to cure a healthy man. And because of the man's resistance the doctor cannot get around to recommending his skill and his medicine. For he could do so only if the sick man would admit his illness and permit him to cure him....8
But we all want to be great and good. What of those parishioners of mine and my colleagues who wanted to be built up in church? I want that for them, too. The gospel is about the good news of God's affirmation of us, of our true greatness. You need to be clear, though, what it is that makes you and me great.
The renowned seventeenth-century French intellectual, Blaise Pascal, has written:
Man's greatness comes from knowing he is wretched; a tree does not know it is wretched.
Thus it is wretched to know that one is wretched, but there is greatness in knowing one is wretched.9
How does knowing that you are wretched make you great? It is a healthy antidote to that selfishness which has been with us since the fall into sin, the selfishness with which you and I have been cursed since birth. But hanging around that doctor (Jesus) can make you healthy, pure, and well. Martin Luther put it this way one time in one of his 1535 lectures.
Thus if I look at Christ, I am completely holy and pure, and I know nothing at all about the Law; for Christ is my leaven. But if I look at my flesh, I feel greed, sexual desire, anger, pride the terror of death, sadness fear, hate, grumbling, and impatience against God.10
An awareness of our ongoing need of Christ is really the essence of the gospel, what it takes to be truly wrapped up in God. In the very sermon of his that I noted earlier, the great colonial-era American preacher, Jonathan Edwards, put it this way: "Faith abases men, and exalts God; it gives all the glory of redemption to him alone."11
Edwards has in a nutshell what is at stake for you and me in believing that we will always need the divine doctor (Jesus). If it were true that we could grow out of that dependence, presumably by our commitment, then you and I would be really exalting ourselves, not giving God all the glory. What do you want with your life? Jonathan Edwards and the entire Puritan tradition tell us that life is all about glorifying God and enjoying him forever.12
Enjoyment. That is wonderful thing about realizing your sickness, and not being so concerned about your growth in grace and level of commitment. Knowing that you are sick, that doctor Jesus is treating you, regards us as holy and pure, takes the pressure off you and me. That's what makes life enjoyable, an appreciation that no matter how much sicker we get with our crazy ventures, no matter our failures to get better, we have this wonderful, caring doctor working to heal us.
No two ways about it: In a paradoxical way, there is something wonderfully freeing, even comforting and inspiring in becoming aware of how (spiritually) sick and selfish you are. It helps you become more self-critical, perhaps more socially and politically alert, and certainly more tolerant, less Pharisaic, about other's foibles. Someone like that, always in need of the spiritual doctor, is likely to become more alert to the miracles in life, as we marvel that our beloved doctor and Lord can make any good emerge from our sinful, selfish motives. Life is truly miraculous and joyful when you continue to feel the need for our spiritual doctor! Amen.
____________
1. For more details on tax collectors in the Roman Empire, see Eduard Schweizer, The Good News According to Mark, trans. Donald H. Madvig (Richmond, Virginia: John Knox Press, 1970), p. 65.
2. New York Times magazine, 7 May 2000; Barna Research Online, "Beliefs: Salvation" 2005, at www.barna.org.
3. Rick Warren, The Purpose-Driven Life: What On Earth Am I Here For? (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Zondervan, 2002), pp. 179 ff.
4. John Calvin, Commentary On a Harmony of The Evangelists, Matthew, Mark, and Luke (1555), in Calvin's Commentaries, Vol. XVI.I, trans. William Pringle (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker Books, 2005), pp. 401-402.
5. Jonathan Edwards, God Glorified in Man's Dependence (1731), in The Works of Jonathan Edwards, Vol. 2 (Peabody, Massachusetts: Hendrickson, 1998), pp. 6-7.
6. Augustine, On Man's Perfection in Righteousness (415), XIII.31, in Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, First Series, Vol. 5 (Peabody, Massachusetts: Hendrickson, 1995), p. 71.
7. Martin Luther, Lectures On Romans (1515-1516), in Luther's Works, Vol. 25, ed. Hilton C. Oswald (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 1972), p. 222.
8. Ibid., pp. 202-203.
9. Blaise Pascal, Pensees, 114, trans. A. J. Krailsheimer (Harmondsworth, UK and Baltimore: Penguin Books, 1972), p. 59.
10. Martin Luther, Lectures On Galatians (1535), in Luther's Works, Vol. 26, ed. Jaroslav Pelikan (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 1963), p. 350.
11. Op cit, Edwards, p. 7.
12. Martin Luther, The Shorter Catechism (1646), Q.1, in The Book of Confessions (Louisville, Kentucky: The Office of the General Assembly, Presbyterian Church [U.S.A.], 1996), 7.001.
