Reading

Matthew 9.9–13, 18–26 – As Jesus was walking along, he saw a man called Matthew sitting at the tax booth; and he said to him, ‘Follow me.’ And he got up and followed him. And as he sat at dinner in the house, many tax-collectors and sinners came and were sitting with him and his disciples. When the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, ‘Why does your teacher eat with tax-collectors and sinners?’ But when he heard this, he said, ‘Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. Go and learn what this means, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.” For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.’ While he was saying these things to them, suddenly a leader of the synagogue came in and knelt before him, saying, ‘My daughter has just died; but come and lay your hand on her, and she will live.’ And Jesus got up and followed him, with his disciples. Then suddenly a woman who had been suffering from haemorrhages for twelve years came up behind him and touched the fringe of his cloak, for she said to herself, ‘If I only touch his cloak, I will be made well.’ Jesus turned, and seeing her he said, ‘Take heart, daughter; your faith has made you well.’ And instantly the woman was made well. When Jesus came to the leader’s house and saw the flute-players and the crowd making a commotion, he said, ‘Go away; for the girl is not dead but sleeping.’ And they laughed at him. But when the crowd had been put outside, he went in and took her by the hand, and the girl got up. And the report of this spread throughout that district.

Sermon

Today’s Gospel contains three remarkable stories woven together into one account. At first glance they may seem quite different: the calling of Matthew the tax collector, the healing of a woman who has been suffering for twelve years, and the raising of a young girl from death. Yet there is a common thread running through all of them.

In each case, Jesus encounters someone whom others might have overlooked, avoided, or even given up on. And in each case, Jesus brings life.

The reading begins with Matthew sitting at his tax booth. We know the story so well that it is easy to miss how shocking it would have seemed at the time. Tax collectors were not popular figures. They worked for the occupying Roman authorities and were often suspected of enriching themselves at the expense of their own people. Matthew was not someone most respectable religious leaders would have wanted among their followers. Yet Jesus walks up to him and says just two words: “Follow me.”

No lecture. No interrogation. No list of conditions. Simply an invitation. And Matthew gets up and follows.

It is a wonderfully simple scene, but it tells us something important about Jesus. He sees possibilities where others see only problems. He sees a disciple where others see a sinner. He sees a future where others see only a person’s past.

That is often the way God works, I think. Human beings can become very skilled at defining one another by labels. We identify people by their successes or failures, their mistakes, their weaknesses, or by the other categories into which society places them. Jesus does something different. He sees people as they can become through the grace of God.

Matthew’s story reminds us that discipleship does not begin because we are perfect. It begins because Christ calls us.

The religious leaders are scandalised by what follows. Jesus sits down to eat with tax collectors and sinners. In the ancient world, sharing a meal was a sign of acceptance and fellowship. By sitting at table with these people, Jesus is making a statement about the sort of kingdom he has come to establish.

When challenged, Jesus responds: “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick.” He then adds, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.” Those words lie at the heart of the Gospel.

Jesus is not dismissing worship or religious devotion. Rather, he is reminding his hearers that the purpose of faith is not to build barriers but to reveal God’s mercy. God’s desire is always to draw people closer, to heal, restore, and reconcile, not to create or perpetuate division.

And it is no accident that the next two stories are stories of healing.

As Jesus travels on, a synagogue leader approaches him in desperation. His daughter has died. In the midst of his grief he falls at Jesus’ feet and asks for help. Jesus immediately sets off with him.

But along the way another story interrupts the first. A woman who has suffered from haemorrhages for twelve years quietly approaches Jesus, out of his sight. For twelve years she has lived with pain, uncertainty, and social exclusion. For twelve years she has carried a burden that no one else has been able to lift.

She tells herself that if she can only touch the fringe of Jesus’ cloak, she will be healed.

And she is.

What strikes me most about this moment is that Jesus stops. There is every reason for him to hurry on. A grieving father is waiting. Time seems desperately short. Yet Jesus notices the woman standing before him. He does not allow her healing to remain anonymous. Instead, he speaks to her: “Take heart, daughter; your faith has made you well.”

“Daughter.” A word of affection. A word of belonging. A word of dignity. For twelve years the woman of the story has been defined by illness. In a single moment Jesus restores not only her health but her place within the community. Only then does he continue to the ruler’s house.

By the time he arrives, the mourners have gathered. Professional flute players are already there. Everyone assumes that the story is over. Death has had the final word. Yet Jesus sees the situation differently.

He enters the house, takes the girl by the hand, and she rises. Throughout Matthew’s Gospel, this is what Jesus does. He brings life. He brings life to Matthew, trapped in a profession that had distanced him from his neighbours. He brings life to a woman whose suffering had isolated her for years. He brings life to a grieving family who thought all hope had gone. And he continues to do the same today.

Of course, we know that not every illness is cured. Not every sorrow is immediately lifted. Not every prayer is answered in the way we might wish. We know that from our own experience.

Yet these stories point us towards a deeper truth.

Wherever Jesus is present, despair does not have the final word. Sin does not have the final word. Worldly failure does not have the final word. Even death does not have the final word.

The ministry of Jesus is always directed towards life in its fullest sense: restored relationships, renewed hope, forgiven sins, transformed hearts, and ultimately the promise of resurrection itself.

As disciples, we are called not only to receive that life but also to share it.

Like Jesus, we are called to see possibilities where others see only problems. Like Jesus, we are called to practise mercy rather than judgement. Like Jesus, we are called to notice those whom others overlook. And like Jesus, we are called to become bearers of hope in a world that can often seem overwhelmed by fear, division, and despair.

The good news of today’s Gospel is that Christ still calls people to follow him. He still reaches out to those who feel excluded. He still brings healing, hope, and new life.

And he still invites each one of us to rise and follow him.    

Amen.