Follow Me

A Homily for the Feast of St Matthew, Evangelist and Apostle

Psalm 119:1-16; 2 Corinthians 4; St. Matthew 9:9

From its very beginnings, Christianity has recognized the value of the arts. For most of her history, the Church has made wise use of various artistic forms to convey her unchanging message of salvation to the world across time, languages, and cultures. Of course, the history of Christianity and art isn't without its bumps in the road. At times, the Church has been at odds with music; perhaps some of you come from traditions suspicious of instruments or singing. 

St. Augustine, in his Confessions, spoke very freely about his own struggles with the artistry of music in the Church. He struggled with hymnody and chanting of psalms, writing, "I admit that I still find some enjoyment in the music of hymns, which are alive with your praises when I hear them sung by well-trained melodious voices." But he feared falling into the sin of pleasing his senses above worshipping God.

At certain points of history, the Church has been at odds not only with the musical arts but with image and the visual arts as well. Iconoclast movements in the 8th-century Eastern Church (destroying images, statuary, and icons) and then resurfacing again during the protestant reformation are stark reminders of this history. However, for the most part, the Church has recognized the need for artistic beauty and healthy collaboration with artists—the architects of beauty—who somehow grasp treasures from the heavenly realm and clothe them in words, colors, sounds, and forms, thereby making the transcendent more accessible and intelligible. The things beyond ourselves somehow become present.

The Pieta

In 1965, John Paul VI, in dialogue with artists, wrote, "This world in which we live needs beauty in order not to sink into despair." The objectively true power of the arts infuses the human experience with beauty, speaking to the soul. The mysterious capacity of the arts communicates meaning in ways the spoken word simply cannot. Sculptures such as Michelangelo's Pieta stir the soul. The beauty of its physical form, depicting the incarnation and the atoning death of the Son, expresses the depths of the mother-child relationship. Somehow, the great painters provide words to inexplicable emotions while conveying the inexpressible experiences of the human condition.

It's one thing to read about Matthew's conversion, as we did this morning on his feast day. It is quite another to see it. In the early 1600s, Caravaggio painted The Calling of St. Matthew (cover). This masterpiece is a grand example of his famous style of extreme chiaroscuro (kee r esscuro) (which paints FORM with LIGHTS and DARKS), known as "tenebrism.” His inspired genius was a turning point in the history of art. 

In The Conversion of St. Matthew, Caravaggio depicts the tax collector sitting at a table with four other men dressed starkly in black (note the darkness). Jesus Christ and Saint Peter have entered the room. Peter is the sturdy-looking fellow with his back to us. We see the face of Jesus looking intently at Matthew, arm extended, pointing directly at Matthew. "AND as Jesus passed forth from thence, he saw a man, named Matthew, sitting at the receipt of custom: and he saith unto him, Follow me." There is no prior history between Matthew and Jesus. No preliminary chit-chat before the Lord enters the scene. Jesus enters Matthew's life and says, "Follow me." 

Like the grateful Samaritan healed from last week's Gospel account of the healing of the Ten Lepers, Matthew is himself an outcast, perhaps even more despised within Israelite society than lepers, for one could take pity upon a person deemed unclean by having contracted an unfortunate disease. But tax collectors were sinners by choice, consciously and willfully unclean. 

Matthew, in fact, not only handled money considered impure because of its origin from Gentiles, people unfamiliar to the People of God, but he also collaborated with an alien and reprehensibly greedy authority whose tributes, moreover, could be arbitrarily set. This is why the Gospels often connect "tax collectors and sinners" (Mt 9: 10; Lk 15: 1), as well as "tax collectors and prostitutes" (Mt 21: 31). Publicans (tax collectors) were also stingy, preferring only those like themselves; their social circle consisted entirely of fellow tax-collectors (as depicted in Caravaggio's painting). 

The Calling of St. Matthew, Caravaggio

Tax collectors were shysters and thieves. To his own people, the Jews, Matthew was no better than "extortioners, the unjust, and adulterers" as we hear in the prayer of the pharisee in the Temple from the 18th chapter of St. Luke's Gospel, who stood and prayed thus with himself, "God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector" (Lk 18: 11).

Caravaggio's painting powerfully depicts this momentous encounter between the young and charismatic rabbi and the jaded, outcast tax collector. We see Matthew pointing to himself questioningly as if he cannot quite believe he is being singled out by Jesus, unsure if he even wants to respond if this is the case. Jesus sees Matthew and speaks, "Follow me." With just two words, the words of life break into the closed dark circle of disenfranchised sinners, for Jesus has come to save those in need of a physician, and his medicine is good news. He speaks light into the darkness of their souls. 

St. John says that through the incarnation of the second person of the Trinity, the true light entered the world to save those in darkness. Matthew, portrayed by Caravaggio dressed in black, is such a man. The bright light illuminates the men's faces at the table as they gaze upon Jesus Christ. Divine light, directed by Christ's finger, penetrates Matthew's darkened soul: "Follow Me.” The cross shines through the window above Christ's hand, symbolizing that through His crucifixion—His willing sacrifice—Matthew and others who respond in faith are saved.

Jesus has come to save sinners like Matthew. Jesus has come to save sinners like you and me. There are no prerequisites for his pursuit. He's not demanding you clean up your act or give up unholy preoccupations. He's not demanding you find better friends and companions. You see, Divine grace moves first and interrupts; it breaks through the shadow of death, right into the midst of our depravity and shines the light of everlasting salvation: "Follow me." St. Matthew's calling shows Christ's willingness to be the first mover in salvation and to receive sinners. Jesus comes and calls them from darkness and into his glorious light. Jesus comes and calls us to push away and leave the table of sin. 

St. Paul tells us that Divine mercy is hidden to those who are lost in the hardness of their hearts "unless the light of the glorious Gospel of Christ, who is the image of God, should shine unto them." This is the most profound miracle of all: that a Holy God would leave the riches of heaven and shine the light of mercy upon a tax-collector like Matthew, Magdalene, a prostitute; Saul, a persecutor of the Church; and upon miserable offenders like you and me.

Having therefore called him, Jesus bestows upon Matthew a great honor by heading straight to his house to dine at his table. You see, Jesus doesn't exclude sinners from his friendship, and this doesn't sit well with the religious who express shock at the fact that Jesus is willingly associating with people whom society turned its nose. No. Jesus willingly eats with sinners. The Gospel tells us, "when the Pharisees saw it, they said unto his disciples, Why eateth your Master with publicans and sinners? But when Jesus heard that, he said unto them, they that be whole need not a physician, but they that are sick." In the words of St. Chrysostom, "For such is the quality of a physician; unless he endures the corruption of the sick, he frees them not from their infirmity."

And Why? Why does Jesus eat with tax collectors, winebibbers, and sinners? Why befriend publicans and harlots? How can Jesus, the righteous One, seemingly subvert the Divine law by his lavishly offered mercy and communion with known sinners? Because of love. The answer lies in what is at the heart of Jesus, and that is love, which — as Jesus says elsewhere — is also at the heart of the law -- hear the words of our Lord rebuke these Pharisees, words spoken to us today, "I desire mercy not sacrifice." God loves sinners for He is love. 

The right question is this: "How can Jesus refuse to come to sinners and pour out grace and mercy on them?" Passing by the half-dead man on the road to Jericho and withholding healing from the leper goes against the very nature of God, who is love, grace, mercy, and compassion. Underlying each criticism directed at our Lord shows that his enemies were rarely, if ever, upset with him for enforcing the law for sinners or making the "rules" clear for them. On the contrary, in almost every case where criticism involved Jesus' interactions with outcasts and ordinary people, it was about him being too merciful, too accepting, and too ready to "eat and drink with sinners." But remember, "I desire mercy, not sacrifice."

In the conversion of St. Matthew, the Gospel presents a true and proper paradox: those who seem to be the farthest from holiness can become the model of accepting God's mercy and offer a glimpse of the marvelous effects of divine mercy and forgiveness, reorienting their lives. In fact, a one-time tax collector despised by his own people and consumed with filthy gain became an Apostle of our Lord Jesus Christ. Divine mercy has no prerequisites, no litmus tests. It sees value in broken and discarded things. It moves from the heights of heaven to lift the lowest from the dust. 

"THEREFORE seeing we have this ministry, as we have received mercy, we faint not; But have renounced the hidden things of dishonesty, not walking in craftiness, nor handling the word of God deceitfully; but by manifestation of the truth commending ourselves to every man's conscience in the sight of God... For God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ." 

Beloved, the God who loves you is shining the light of his love today, through his Word and in his Sacrament. The light is shining so that you might see the face of Jesus Christ. He stands before you full of mercy, truth, and love. As he did with St. Matthew, Jesus is calling you to push away from the table of your sins and to commune with him at his holy table. So let us contemplate St. Matthew, who, having become an Apostle by God's gracious calling, continues to proclaim the depth of Divine Mercy towards us. And let grace compel you to stand up and follow Jesus with fresh determination to become like Him: conduits of Divine mercy and grace. Amen+