“God’s Technicolor World”

Second Sunday after Pentecost

June 11, 2023

Romans 4:13-25

Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26

Most of you are familiar with the movie, The Wizard of Oz. I never did like it much because when I would tell someone I’m from Kansas, they’d make some corny reference to the movie. “Where’s Toto?” “You’re not in Kansas, anymore.” Those were the most popular. It had been years since I watched the movie until we watched it with Seth a while back. Still don’t like it.

But one thing that strikes me now, and Pastor Jim Somerville brings it up in his sermon for this Sunday, is the connection between the movie and today’s gospel. What I mean is that when Dorothy enters the world of Oz, everything changes. And to symbolize that in the movie, it goes from black and white to color.

As soon as she’s over the rainbow, the whole world looks different. People she knew on the farm take on more depth as the scarecrow, the tin man, and the lion. But life gets a lot more complex, as well. And all she wants to do is get back home—to the way things were. To the simple life. Back to where things are black and white.

The world in which we live and Jesus lived is filled with black and white. Rules are set up—rules that often divide into two camps: in or out; good or bad; boy or girl; saved or damned. We like these rules because they seem to make it clear how we should live. It’s nice to have clear lines to follow. Until there’s a line that you can’t follow. And there are lots of those for many people.

Today’s gospel tells us how Jesus goes about his ministry, calling folks to follow, and defying the rules. Ignoring the lines. Destroying the boxes. He undoes the strict divisions of black and white, leaving swirls of rainbows in his wake.

He calls Matthew, who is the worst of the worst. Matthew has chosen to be a traitor to his own people—collecting unfair taxes for Rome and asking for a bit more to pad his own pockets. Matthew would have been in a booth in the center of town—probably along a main thoroughfare through which nearly everyone would have to walk at some point during the day. He was despised. He was an outcast. Everyone knew he didn’t belong with them anymore. This is a clear, black-and-white situation. Matthew is out.

Until Jesus muddies the water and creates a swath of colors that even Matthew can’t ignore. He chose his profession. And he chose to leave it to follow this man who invited him into a whole new world. In response, Matthew throws a party for his friends and Jesus’ friends. Tax collectors and sinners eating with a teacher and his disciples. It’s a holy riot of color!

The Pharisees can’t stand to see it. You don’t mix it up with those people. There are rules. In fact, the word Pharisee means separated—set apart. They, of all people, know the importance of the division between black and white, good and bad, righteous and sinners.

But the next thing we read is that a synagogue leader comes begging Jesus to restore his daughter to life. Clear division is all well and good until you lose the ones you love. And suddenly, those divides become cloudy. This leader has lost all need to distinguish between good and bad. All he knows is that his only chance of having his little girl back is Jesus. The only chance of putting color back in her cheeks is this one who defies the clear distinctions—even between life and death.

But on his way, another blossom of color explodes. The woman who had been slowly bleeding to death for 12 years sees, in her grim desperation, a glimmer of hope. As Jesus walks by, she is determined to just touch the fringe of his cloak. Just brush up against a thread. No one needs to know.

She has lived the past 12 years in isolation. A person bleeding—especially a woman—cannot interact with others or they will be made unclean. Any chair she sits in is no longer an option for anyone else. The people she touched would have to go and wash. The rules are clear. They’re black and white. And yet, she pushes through the crowd to touch Jesus.

Imagine how many people she made ceremonially unclean in her desire to reach Jesus. All those men and women who worked hard to maintain and obey the life outlined to them in Leviticus. All of it thrown out the window with this one woman who dared infiltrate the crowd. And yet, as soon as she reached Jesus, everything changed.

She did not make him unclean, as the rules suggested. But the reverse. He did not chastise her, saying, “Woman, look what you did!” He turned and lovingly said, “Daughter, your faith has made you well.” The world of black and white burst into color. Clarity and obedience became riotous and complex—and beautiful and holy and sacred.

And then, Jesus reached the house of the synagogue leader. The gray pall of death hung over everything, enhance by mourners and pipe players hired to share the grief of the family. Jesus sends them all away and stands at the bedside of the girl who died. Touching her, she rises. The white of her face filled with the color of life and energy. The clear division between life and death wiped away with a touch.

We like clear division most of the time. We like the predictable patterns that we can rely on. They make us feel as if we are in charge of our lives—that we can control the chaos—that we can manage things like illness and poverty in our own lives. When the world is black and white, we can identify (we think) the good Christians from the bad Christians. We can set the bar—just follow the rules. Believe, and you’ll be saved. Behave, and you’ll be rewarded. If you do… then God will…

Except, God has shown us through the life of Jesus that God is less concerned about rules and more concerned about life. God is less concerned about morality and more concerned about justice. God is less concerned about who is included and more concerned about who has been left out. God is less interested in black-and-white living and more interested in the riotous colors of a diverse, complex world.

This complex world shows up in God’s very creation. The variety of species, the range of sizes, the rainbow of colors. It’s messy and muddy sometimes. It’s challenging and unclear. It’s definitely not as simple as obedience to rules and demands. It’s as complex as love. It’s as simple as love.

The song we’re about to sing was brought to my attention as a response to the book several of us are studying, “The Body is not an Apology.” It’s a book that lifts up the beauty of ALL bodies—differently abled, different colors, different sizes, different genders. All of the complexity of God’s creation found in the beauty of humanity. All of it sacred and precious and loved.

Seeing the body as sacred defies the rules we have placed on what we think beauty and health look like. Seeing the world as sacred releases us from a black-and-white view of life and into a full color spectrum of God’s beloved.

Pastor Tobi White

Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church

Lincoln, NE