January 7, 2024 (1st Sunday of Epiphany)
“Follow me.”
Mark 1:16-20; 2:13-17
My friend Levi invited me to his house for supper not too long ago. “Hey, I’m going to have a barbecue Sunday. We’ll eat around 6:30, but there will be drinks and snacks before that. It won’t be fancy; we’ll have hamburgers and kosher sausages, and somebody’s going to make that salad I know you like, and there’ll be plenty of desserts. There’s somebody coming that I want you to meet.”
So I went. But when I got there, I was immediately uncomfortable.
I didn’t know anybody there, other than Levi—well, some of them I knew by sight, or at least knew of them. They just weren’t the kind of people I associate with on a daily basis. I didn’t know what to talk about with them, and a lot of them I had very little desire to talk to; a few of them were pretty disreputable, to be quite honest, except for two pairs of brothers, fishermen I’d seen at the lake.
They were ordinary men, and you could tell by looking at them that they were no stranger to hard work; but they were decent folks with families. Levi said they had come with the new friend he wanted me to meet.
I’m not sure why the other guests bothered me so much; Levi isn’t exactly thought of as a paragon of virtue himself, and I’m friends with him.
Levi left his last job under a cloud of suspicion. The gossip at the time was that he had been suspected of embezzlement, but had managed to cook the books in such a way that it couldn’t be proven. But I knew him, knew what he’d been going through at the time, and also knew that he was determined to make amends for his past bad behavior.
Others there I wasn’t so sure had made any such commitment.
A couple of them I only knew from seeing them on the TV news—they were politicians, one from either party, and what they’d been on TV for was that they had just been indicted for corruption. They were working the crowd, talking to everyone, shaking hands, smiling—like everything was just fine.
You would think they could at least act a little contrite, maybe stay over in the corner and keep to themselves.
Levi’s new friend, the one he had invited me over to meet, was with him at the grill. There wasn’t anything particularly remarkable about his appearance, except when I looked in his eyes. I can’t really describe what I saw, except to say that it felt like he looked right into my heart and soul.
Levi introduced us. His name was Jesus. We chatted for a moment, and then he went over to those politicians and started talking with them.
I tried not to be too obvious as I followed a ways behind in hopes of eavesdropping on their conversation. But all I got was, “You know how to get things done; can you make this happen for me?”
The conversation pretty much ended then, because some more guests arrived. They were dark-skinned, bearded, wearing long robes and red-and-white scarves on their heads. Behind them walked a couple of women dressed in black from head to toe, with only their eyes uncovered. Jesus went over and greeted them like old friends; he kissed the men on both cheeks, then called the women by name. Levi offered them something to drink, and he and Jesus spent a few minutes talking with them.
I found myself wondering if they were hiding weapons under their robes, but then I immediately felt bad about it. If Levi trusted them enough to invite them to his home, shouldn’t I also trust them? But I struggled; we’ve all heard the horror stories about terrible things people like that have done—even as I also know horror stories about terrible things perpetrated by people who look like me.
Just then a couple people came out of the house carrying trays filled with chips, veggies, and dip, plus lots of other yummy-looking snacks, so I headed over to the picnic table to fill a plate.
About that time several really noisy women appeared at the gate. They were all wearing way too much makeup, and one of them had on a skirt that barely covered her backside. Another one, who was already tall before the very high, very high-heeled boots she was wearing, had a deep voice and an Adam’s apple.
Levi went over and brought them to the table where the snacks were, and before long Jesus went and joined their conversation. He tried to draw me in, too. But can you imagine? What on earth would I have to talk about with a bunch of prostitutes?
I mumbled something about needing to get a drink, and hurried away.
At the cooler, I ran into a couple of guys I knew, and was surprised to see that they were holding hands. They said hello to me, and we talked for a minute. They were wearing matching rings on their left hands, something I had never noticed before. Then they went on their merry way, and I settled myself on the porch steps to watch the crowd—and it certainly was a crowd, getting bigger all the time.
It was hard for me to imagine that there was enough food in that whole house to feed all the people who were there. (I hadn’t, at that point, yet heard about the time Jesus fed more people than live in our whole town with one kid’s lunch.) There were people of every color, some who were obviously rich and others who looked like they could well have been homeless. My friends at the cooler weren’t the only queer people there. There were some folks there that I could tell had done their share of drugs, and some who had mental illnesses. I saw a couple men and a woman I know just got out of prison. There were a few people there that all I knew about them was the really juicy gossip I’d heard about their past.
And the next time I saw those two sleazy politicians, they were talking with a particularly loudmouthed political commentator that I never agree with.
Well, I got more and more uncomfortable, until I noticed to my relief that off in one corner was a group of decent, respectable church folks, like me not really joining in the festivities, trying not to associate with the various more-or-less disreputable folks who were at this party. I went over and joined them, but they were getting ready to leave.
“I’d never have accepted the invitation if I’d known Levi had also invited those people,” one of them said.
“I heard him tell some of them that he wanted them to meet his new friend Jesus,” another said, “but why on earth would Jesus want to meet them? The way things are nowadays, you have to avoid even the appearance of impropriety. You take one step wrong, and you’re all over the internet, with people condemning you six ways from Sunday. Jesus ought to be more careful who he’s seen with.”
Yet another one said, “I hope nobody sees my car parked here; if it gets around that I was here, I’ll never be able to show my face in this town again!” They all finished their drinks and started toward the gate.
Jesus was back with Levi at the grill, and when he saw them he said, “Where are you going? The burgers are just about done!”
“We just can’t stay any longer with these people. Why would you want to associate with them?”
Jesus looked sad. “After all this time, you still don’t understand…These are the people I came here to associate with—the people who most need me, need to know how much my Father loves them.”
But my friends turned away. “Are you coming?” they asked me.
I was torn. I knew what they’d be saying all over town if I stayed. But I really didn’t want to go. The sun was warm, the hamburgers and sausages smelled so good…and honestly, I just wanted to talk more with Jesus.
I tried to rationalize it away: Maybe I can talk to him some other time, when all these sinners aren’t around.
Maybe.
I took a step toward the gate. Jesus was watching from the grill, I knew; but I also knew he wouldn’t stop me if I decided to go.
Another step toward the gate…and then I said, “You know what, actually, I think I’m going to stay.”