September 3rd,  Sermon by The Reverend Loree Reed

Matthew 18: 15–20
Lord, may we hear your voice in the words spoken in your name.  Amen.
Last week, when I realized that this passage on church discipline was our gospel passage for this morning, my heart sank.  Who wants to think about “church discipline” on an otherwise bright, sunny morning in September?  I certainly didn’t, so I began looking at the alternative texts, the Old Testament reading and the Epistle.  But they weren’t any more cheerful.  The Lord’s word to the prophet Ezekiel, with its dire warnings to the wicked in the Temple community, was hardly uplifting.  And Paul’s letter to the Church at Rome was also full of warnings against activities he called “works of darkness.”  Church discipline, evidently, was everywhere.  I couldn’t avoid it.
What I hadn’t yet seen was why Matthew had included this passage on church discipline in his gospel.  Nor had I yet looked at how he had framed it.  And when I looked at both of those details, a much more appealing picture of church discipline finally emerged.
You see, Matthew was writing his whole Gospel account, sometime around the year 85 AD., for the benefit of Jewish Christians whose whole world had suddenly collapsed.  Roman forces had just destroyed Jerusalem – completely — and had begun persecuting any Christian sects they could find.  And Jewish believers, who had initially welcomed new Christians and Christian refugees from Rome into their synagogues, were now much less friendly.  In fact, all too often they were betraying these newcomers to the Roman guard.  So, the Jewish Christian believers now desperately needed to know who they were and how they were to conduct themselves.  Were they to continue as a special sect within Judaism, or were they now, simply Christians?  And if they were Christians, what did that mean?  How were they to conduct themselves?  How were they to handle the animosity they suddenly found all around them?
Matthew addresses these questions by showing the special care Jesus takes for people he calls “little ones,” these new believers who were now feeling small and vulnerable.  He’s like a gardener caring for small seedlings.  At the moment, they are growing — green and lovely.  But their roots haven’t had time to extend far into the ground – so drought, weeds, or too much sun could easily do them in.  In other words, Jesus understands that these new believers need special care if they’re even to survive.
So, just a few verses before our reading today, in the eighteenth chapter of the gospel of Matthew, he makes the older, more experienced believers around these new–to–the–faith believers their caretakers.  Then he warns those caretakers – in no uncertain terms — how they are to treat the new believers.  “Don’t even think,” he tells them, “of placing an obstacle in the way of these little ones’ growing faith.  In fact, don’t do anything that would cause them to stumble – or it will mean Big Trouble for you – with me.”
Finally, to drive his point home, Jesus tells them the parable of the lost sheep – the sheep the shepherd searches for until he finds it and can bring it home to safety.  When Luke tells this same parable he makes it clear that Jesus is the caring shepherd in the story.  But in Matthew’s telling of the parable, it’s clear that he’s holding the older and wiser church members, the ones already mature in their faith, responsible.  They are the ones Jesus is counting on to go out searching for the lost lamb, the one who’s too fearful or confused to find her way home.
And somehow, looking at this passage through Jesus’ compassion for these little ones, these new–to–the–faith ones, changed the whole tone of it for me.  Once I realized that the offender in this account of church discipline might be someone young and fragile in her faith — and that the rescuing shepherds could be people from her own congregation – then the whole passage suddenly became a story of merciful pastoral care – rather than a cut–and–dried account of church discipline.  Someone has said something hurtful, endangering relationships in this church.  But older, wiser ones come to help her correct her mistake and find her way back into fellowship.  It is, after all, a story of redemption for the little ones, the ones whose faith is yet weak.  And that changed the whole picture for me.
Now, Matthew might have been writing his whole Gospel for the benefit of young, persecuted Jewish Christians in the year 85 AD, but his point of view certainly has relevance for us today.  For in our day, too, many who come to us are uncertain of their faith, uncertain about how to live it out.  Some weren’t raised in church at all.  Others had a less than positive experience in whatever church they were raised in, so they haven’t been back for years.  So, many of the people who come to us are also “little ones,” new believers in the faith.
But with God’s help, here at All Angels, we welcome them all in.  And slowly – by gentle example, by preaching and teaching the Word, and by table fellowship – we raise everyone up to stronger faith.  Along the way, no one is embarrassed by what they don’t know.  That’s why we have these complete bulletins, with every word of our service written in – so every person here is – literally – on the same page.  Then too, everyone is encouraged to take part – signing up to bring food or flowers . . . or to man the music booth . . . or to act as an usher.  Everyone’s gifts are valued.  Everyone is included.  And finally, blessed by some wonderful cooks in this parish, we do a lot of table fellowship around here.  And — just as it was in the first century — as we sit at tables laden with shared food, we don’t just share our food; we share our lives.  We pray for one another.  And everyone grows in faith.  Everyone is blessed.
That, in fact, is the larger picture of church discipline.  Just like the small home churches of the first century, we know ourselves to be “little ones” in this world, “little ones” who depend on God’s grace for everything we do.  But our weakness, our smallness is our strength.  For as we acknowledge our vulnerability, our need, God works through our weakness, helping us practice mutual care for one another.  And in the process, we all grow.
To God be the glory for the things he has done.
Amen.
 
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