February 26, 2006

Clay Nelson

Epiphany 8
     Mark 2:13-22

I was sitting in my office last week when Levi, also known as Matthew, jumped right out of the pages of the Gospel and plonked himself down. He had just had that 'follow me' thing with Jesus and wanted some vocational guidance. I switched off the computer and leant him an ear.

 “Crikey! What a week I've had Reverend Clay.”

“Clay is just fine Levi, want to talk about it?”

“Sure do ' cause nothing like this has ever happened to me. Everything is topsy turvey. Black is white, white is black. I just don't know what to think?”

“OK Levi, take a deep breath and fill me in. What's happened?”

“Well, I'm really not too sure. It all started about a week ago when this new preacher, teacher, whatever guy came to town. There was some buzz about him being the Messiah. I rolled my eyes when I heard that. Not another bloody Messiah I thought. They are a shekel a dozen in this part of the world. So I just tended to my business at first and didn't pay it any mind.”

“What is your business Levi?”

Well, it's nothing I'm proud of, but it pays the bills. Work isn't easy to get you know, so I took a position in the employ of the emperor.

Oh, you're a tax collector.”

“That's right Rev., I collect Roman taxes and road tolls. I hope you aren't going to get up my nose about that like everyone else?”

No, Levi. I'm of the render unto Caesar school of thought.”

“Thanks, I guess I'm a little defensive. People just don't appreciate how much work it is. Those Romans have heaps of different taxes to keep track of, so the bookkeeping is a bit of a nightmare. Remembering the tolls is no picnic in the park either. People walking alone pay one thing, but it changes if they have a goat or camel or if they are walking or riding the camel. Its hot work, and working with the public can be quite difficult really. Folks may not like a Jew working for the Romans, but if I didn't do it, there are plenty of others who would.”

“So, tell me Levi about this new guy in town?”

“Well, as I was saying, I couldn't be bothered at first, but one day a two shekel toll came by, a bloke with no goat or camel. He was all excited and said he just had to tell someone the news. “Could I keep a secret?” he asked. I almost said for another shekel, but I was curious. “Sure Mate, what is it?”

“This morning, he says, “I woke up with leprosy.”

 “Whoa man! There's an extra tax for lepers.”

“He says, 'Well, I won't have to pay then, because I'm cured!'”

“That's not possible. The emperor doesn't take kindly to tax cheats, you know.”

“No, it's true. I met this guy who told me I was cured and I was.”

“That's all?” I asked sceptically.

“Well, he did tell me to sin no more and not to tell anyone about being cured. Do you think telling is a sin?”

“Don't know Mate, but it is probably good advice. People are going to think you are a nutter if you tell 'em what you told me.”

“Well, I let him go on his way without reporting him to my boss, and didn't think much about it. But two morning's later four guys came along who were carrying their mate, a paralytic, on a stretcher. Now the guy wasn't riding a goat or a camel, so I had to look in the rule book. It said only the Governor is usually carried by people on this road, and he isn't charged, so I cut them some slack and gave them a group discount. I asked where they were going and they said to meet the new guy, the one who healed the leper.”

“'Sure is tough keeping a secret around here.' They nodded not really understanding and were off.”

“Then right after lunch, something I still don't believe happened. The guy who went by earlier on the pallet came back carrying it. I gotta hear this story mate.

“He was only too happy to tell me about this Messiah guy who told him to pick up his pallet and sin no more. I asked him if he was supposed to keep it a secret. He looked at me oddly and said, 'No, I made kind of a grand entrance and everyone in town saw it.' I asked him what happened to his friends. He said something I didn't quite get about their wives making them fix a roof.”

“I was so gobsmacked I forgot to charge him for carrying the stretcher.”

“So, what did you do then Levi?”

“I took off early and went to the pub to see if my mates and a few cold ones could help me make sense of all this.”

“What were you trying to understand?”

“Well, where I come from there are only two kinds of people. There are the righteous and the sinners. It's cool to be one of the righteous, as you might have guessed. They are clean in God's eyes, or so they tell the rest of us. That's why they get the good jobs and are invited to black tie dinner parties. As you might guess it's not as cool to be a sinner. The sinners are people like me who put bread on the table working at jobs the righteous are too good for. Prostitutes are included, of course. But it also includes people like the leper and the paralytic. Clearly they are unclean, the Righteous explain, since God wouldn't be punishing them otherwise with crummy jobs and serious health issues.”

“You seem to have that worked out, so what's so confusing?”

“Well, we are who we are. How can some shekel-a-dozen-Messiah just come and say we aren't who we are? Suddenly, on his say so we aren't sinners any more. I hear the righteous ones in town are in a little bit of a dust up over this. They are used to being the ones to decide who's righteous and who isn't. They like it that way and I guess I do to. Keeps things orderly. The new guy is trying to change the natural order.”

“Did your mates at the pub help you sort it out?”

“Hell no! They were too busy shouting drinks for the new guy. Telling jokes and laughing. I left sober but feeling befuddled. How can someone who dirties himself partying with the likes of me then purify us? Makes no sense. It's as crazy as trying to save money putting new wine in old wine skins.”

“So what happened next?”

“Well, the next day I took a mental health day. I couldn't take the pressure of wondering who was going to come down the road next.”

“Did it help?” 

“No, I was just sitting feeding the birds in the park, and the new guy comes up to me and parks himself on the bench as if I invited him. Doesn't say much at first, just helps me feed the birds. Then he asks if I want a job? 'Doesn't pay as well as collecting tolls, but we have good parties. ' He then tells me I'm highly suited for the position.”

“'Doin' what?' I ask cautiously.”

“You're going to give new life to people, helping me make the lame walk, the blind see, the leper whole. It's a family business, and I want to get you in on the ground floor.”

So what did you tell him Levi?””

“I told him it was a pretty scary thing to ask a bloke. 'Who am I if I am not a tax collector?'

He said, “You're Matthew, a gift from God. If you think I'm confusing the righteous, wait till they see a tax collector forgiving sins for no charge.”

“Matthew, huh? Sounds like a name you'd give a stone church, I tell him.”

“Or a car park,” he answers.