The Rev. Robert Lundquist III after Pentecost 6/5/05 St Paul’s, Ft Collins

People of St Paul’s, I’m delighted to accept our Bishop’s appointment to be your Priest-in-Charge for the foreseeable future! You are coming to the end of one chapter of your story, and the beginning of another. I think it’s cool to be in both! My thanks to your Vestry for recommending me to Bishop O’Neill.

I have responded to our Bishop’s call to be here as your priest. My question to you is – Are you being called? Every day, I bet. You’re paged, beeped, rung up, faxed, instant-messaged and emailed. But the question goes deeper: are you being called? The word vocation is derived from the Latin for “to call.” Your vocation is your calling, at least in theory. Is your vocation your true calling? Are you being called, like Matthew, to “follow me”? Life would be so much simpler if God’s call to me were by fax or email, clear and direct. Matthew had it easy. “Follow me,” said Jesus, and Matthew did.

You were called in your baptism. “Do you promise to follow and obey [Jesus Christ] as your Lord?” I do, you replied. You said you’d respond to the call, to live it out by proclaiming Good News, seeking Christ and striving for justice and peace among all people. How are you responding to that call?

Matthew was a tax collector, as we know from today’s Gospel lesson. He was a Jew living in territory occupied by the Romans. As a tax collector he was despised by both Jews and Romans as a traitor. All tax collectors made their living on the “vigorish” of their work, the difference between what they collected and what they had to turn over to the occupiers. So Matthew was not like the neighborhood IRS agent, doing a necessary task on behalf of society – he came right up to the line of extortion, collecting from his people to satisfy his employer. But Jesus calls him: “Follow me;” and Matthew apparently drops everything to do just that. He sits with Jesus at a meal with his colleagues, sinners and lowlifes, for who else would dine with him? Yet Jesus partakes of the table fellowship, breaking all the rules. “Why does he do that?”, ask the Pharisees, who seem to be spectators without being contaminated.

Jesus responds to the whispers, explaining why he eats with the needy and the sinful: “God desires mercy, not sacrifice.” Not perfection, breeding or good works, but mercy. Hmm, where have we heard that before?

In our first reading, from the prophet Hosea – God desires steadfast love [chesed], not sacrifice. Our English language cannot capture the fullness of the Hebrew term chesed. Steadfast love, unchanging and covenantal love, everlasting tenderness… God’s love is passionate, as we learn from the setting of the passage. Ephraim and Judah, tribes of Israel, have grown lukewarm in their love for God. Scholars tell us that Hosea was writing in 733 BCE (see II Kings 15). Ephraim and Judah have paid off aggressor armies, perhaps because they questioned and doubted God’s ability protect them and care for them. So picture a tempestuous marriage, in which God is frustrated by a fickle and inconsistent spouse, a spouse who is more like the mist instead of the rain. A spouse who plays at appearances, sacrifices and lip-service instead of faithfulness.

A Parish For All People!