No Comparison
Mt 11:16-19, 25-30
Maybe it’s just me, but whenever I have to introduce myself, it feels a bit like one of those 12-Step programs: “Hi, I’m Nick, and I am a United Methodist pastor. It’s been one Sunday since my last sermon.”
I am never really sure what people want to know about me, but one of the advantages of being a preacher is that I can tell you stories over the next several weeks and months, and hopefully years – and they will all be true, even if the facts get a little fuzzy now and then.
My dad was an owner/manager of a company whose motto was “known by the company you keep.” So let me introduce to you the company of people I have been most known to keep. There is my wife Pam. She is a wonderful singer, an amazing teacher, and my best friend. Tomorrow we celebrate our 31st wedding anniversary. We got married on the 4th of July because I was pretty sure I would have that day off from the church, and it would be pretty hard to forget our anniversary!
We also have here today our 2 children and their spouses. Our daughter Susan is married to Patrick for all of 2 weeks now, and when they get back from their honeymoon, they will be making their home in St. Joseph. And our son Wesley is married to Pamela for just over 2 years now, and they make their home in Manchester. I tell folks that if we had a third child, and it was a girl, her name would have been Grace. That way, when I would introduce our children, it would be “Susan and Wesley and Grace.” If you are a long time Methodist, you can hear two Methodist references in that!
What I think they would all tell you about me is that I tell odd stories, or at least they seem odd at first. So you might as well be initiated, because I am going to tell you a story.
A person was riding his bike down a country lane one day when he came across a shepherd leading a flock of sheep across a pasture. The cyclist stopped and asked the shepherd, “How far do these sheep walk in a day?” The shepherd replied, “Which ones? The white ones or the black ones?” The cyclist said, “alright – the white ones.” “About 5 miles,” said the shepherd. “And the black ones?” “About 5 miles.”
The cyclist then asked, “How much pasture does it take for each sheep to have enough to eat?” The shepherd replied, “Which ones? The white ones or the black ones?” The cyclist said, “Let’s start with the black ones.” “About an acre each,” said the shepherd. “And the white ones?” “About an acre each.”
The cyclist asked, “How much wool can these sheep produce in a year?” The shepherd replied, “Which ones? The white ones or the black ones?” The cyclist said, “Let’s go with the white ones.” “About 200 pounds.” “And the black ones?” About 200 pounds.”
The cyclist couldn’t stand it any longer. “Why do you keep making distinctions between the white sheep and the black sheep, when the answer is always the same for both?” The shepherd said, “Well, you see, the white ones are mine.” “And the black ones?” “They’re mine, too.”
To what shall we compare this generation?” Jesus asked. In our reading, the generation gets compared to little children who just don’t get it. We play the pipe, and you do not dance. We sing a dirge, and you do not mourn. We come prophetically calling all to repentance and holiness, and you call us demons. We come graciously relating to all people, and you call us pigs.
And yet, if we listen to all of the teachings of Jesus, even as Jesus is chastising them, we know that grace is still offered to all, that forgiveness is offered even to the soldiers who nailed him to the cross, and that paradise is offered to the crucified thief. If we listen to the good news, we can hear Jesus saying, “And the black sheep – they’re mine, too.”
Jesus still asks, “To what shall I compare this generation?” And we have read the newspapers, and watched the news, and we know in our heart of hearts that we are not like other people. We are the white sheep, and out there in the world are the black sheep. We know that we belong to God. And yet, if we listen to the good news proclaimed by Jesus Christ, we can hear Jesus saying, “And the black sheep – they’re mine, too.”
If we were to turn this comparison around, we might hear the world saying that there is no comparison between them and the people of the church. They look at us and declare that we are out of step with their realities, that we are not relevant, that we just don’t get it. And there are some in the church who want us to get it by being relevant.
You can identify those churches because they are the ones offering good advice instead of good news. They are the churches that are more concerned about the music than about the message. They are the churches that are offering good times here instead of the good time of the hereafter. They are the churches that are offering “feel good” affirmations instead of inviting us to “do good” actions. But even as I say this, I can hear Jesus saying, “And the relevant churches – they’re mine, too.
We all get tempted from time to time to compare ourselves to others, usually so that we come out better. I have a colleague who is a 7th generation Methodist preacher. His grandfather is a retired United Methodist bishop. The last 2 generations both tried to do something besides being a preacher, but after working in the world and doing good things, they accepted their calling to be Methodist preachers.
By comparison, I am fairly new to Methodism. The MethodistChurch was where my grandmother attended, and I could walk the 2 blocks from our apartment house to get there – even though the BaptistChurch was only one block away. But the MethodistChurch is all I have known. I was baptized on Easter when I was 4 years old, joined the church when I was 10, and went straight from high school to college to the seminary to the local parish.
Well, one day I was reading the blog of this colleague. He had discovered a website that would help identify how well your theology conformed to your faith tradition. There were 100 questions, with each having multiple choices. This colleague felt pretty good because his score was in the 70s for Wesleyan theology. For those to whom this may be something new or unfamiliar, the Methodist movement was founded by John and Charles Wesley, and it has a theology that is grounded in the three-fold grace of Jesus Christ. This colleague thought that the test showed he was a pretty good fit for the MethodistChurch.
So, I decided to take this test and see what my score was. My score was a 97, and I thought the test did pretty good – it only got 3 answers wrong. I knew which 3 questions the test had gotten wrong because they were based on John Wesley’s early understanding instead of his later and more mature understanding of grace. Yet, even as I was feeling more Methodist than this 7th generation preacher, I could still hear Jesus say, “And the smug preachers – they’re mine, too.”
The problem with comparison is that we are always looking from the outside. We notice what is different. And it is only a short step from being seen as different to being seen as less, or as wrong, or as evil – and that is a step that all too many readily take in order to justify how what I do is right and what you do is wrong. John was different, so he had to be evil. Jesus was different, so he had to be discredited – or so thought the Pharisees as they compared them from the outside.
Jesus invites us to give up comparisons, of only looking at the outside of a person. Instead, Jesus invites us to look on the inside, and to see how we are alike. And when we look on the inside we see that we have all fallen short of the glory of God, that we have all sinned, and that we all need salvation.
But when Jesus looks on the inside, he sees what the world can not see. Jesus sees the image of God imprinted on each person. Jesus sees what was worth dying for on a cross. Jesus sees what God intended for each person – a life that is well fitted to carry that divine image but which gets burdened because it is carrying around another image, an image that shows how we are different from others.
That is why Jesus said, “Come to me, all who are weary of being misunderstood, unrecognized, misplaced in life – I understand who you really are, and who you can really become. I know your name and all about you. I see where you belong, and it is at the table of the Lord, as an honored family member. Set down the burdens the world places upon you that are not yours to carry – those burdens of false identity, false hope, false love – and take up the life God intends for you. Be yoked to God, for that is the relationship we are made for, and you will find it easy to bear. No one has to walk alone in this life when they are paired with God.”
That all sounds wonderful, but we are still tempted, as were Adam and Eve, to decide for ourselves if something is good, or if there may be something better out there. So we keep listening and looking for something that will make our hearts sing, comparing this with that, never quite settling on an absolute good. But when we make it a competition, we may miss out on the song of the heavens altogether.
There is a story that has been well-known to Jewish children for centuries, told about a King Rueben who asked a comparison question.
The king asked his royal subjects, “What is the sweetest melody of all?” Early the next morning the people gathered all sorts of musicians. The sound awoke the king and all morning he listened to their tunes. But, after listening to all of them, he could not tell which was the sweetest sound. Finally, one subject suggested they all play together. It was so noisy the king could not even think.
As the day was drawing to a close, a woman pushed to the front of the crowd and stepped forward. “O, king,” she said, “I have the answer to your question.” The king was surprised since she had no instrument. “Why didn't you come earlier?” he asked. She replied, “I had to wait until the setting of the sun.” The musicians were still playing and the king told them all to stop.
The woman then took two candles and placed them on the king’s balcony rail. She lit them just as the sun continued to set. The flames glowed in the evening darkness. She then lifted her voice and said, “Blessed art thou, O Lord, our God, King of the universe, who sanctified us with the commandments and commanded us to kindle the Sabbath lights.” She then said, “He who has an ear, let him hear.”
Everyone was completely still. “What is that?” asked the king. He could not hear a sound. The woman then replied, “What you hear is the sound of rest, the sweetest melody of all.”
And in that silence, we can hear Jesus say, “And the quiet ones who rest eternally from their labors – they’re mine, too.”
When we listen to the music of the heavens without trying to compare the instruments and the players, then our feet can move and our bodies can sway to the rhythm of salvation. We can depend on the steady beat of God’s love pounding in our hearts. We can match the steps Jesus took in proclaiming good news to the poor, releasing the captives, healing the sick, raising the dead. We can understand that there is as much music in the rests as there is in the notes because we trust the Holy Spirit who is conducting the song.
The life of a disciple is not about judging and comparing, something I think Jesus made clear in the Sermon on the Mount when he said, “Do not judge.” Living as a disciple is more like being a friend. One of my favorite definitions of a friend is that it is someone who, when you make a jerk of yourself, doesn’t believe that you did a permanent job of it. And that is why what Jesus says in our reading is not just foolishness.
So hear the good news! Jesus is our Lord and Savior, the one who redeems us in our sin so that we might come before God at the final judgment. But Jesus is also more than that. We can know this from the inside because Jesus is also our friend, who walks with us in this journey of life. Jesus walks with us through the valleys of the shadow of death. Jesus walks with us up to and through the gates of heaven. Being a disciple is about letting Jesus be your friend, having a relationship with Jesus, and then being a friend to others in the name of Jesus. Being a disciple is about living life from the inside out, which we learn to do as we trust and obey Jesus.
When we live from the inside out, when we compare our expectation of Jesus to what we actually receive from Jesus, there is no comparison! And when we live from the inside out, humbly acknowledging our unworthiness, we can hear Jesus say, “And the least of these – they’re mine, too.”