“We preach not ourselves but Christ Jesus the Lord; and ourselves
your servants for Jesus’ sake.”
Once again we have an Apostolic Feast day on a Sunday. In late August it was Bartholomew the Apostle. Today it is Matthew, Apostle and Evangelist as the BCP calendar makes clear. At first glance, it seems so black and white, rather arbitrary. Jesus sees “a man named Matthew, sitting at the receipt of custom” and says to him, “Follow me. And he arose, and followed him.” Without question, without any hesitation, without any background information, it seems. And yet, both the Gospel and the Epistle provide us with a logic and meaning to the call of Matthew.
The ancient wisdom of the Church sees the saints essentially in the light of Christ’s Passion and Resurrection. This is highlighted for us in the Epistle which underscores the Apostolic ministry in terms of Apostolic doctrine and in the Gospel where the call of Matthew is seen in terms of the mercy that calls sinners to repentance. It is not about calling attention to ourselves but to Christ and in images that recall John’s Prologue about Christ as the Word and Light of God. It all has to do with who Christ is.
“We preach not ourselves,” Paul says, but Christ, in whom “the light of God shines out of darkness” For what purpose? That it may “shine in our hearts,” not simply for ourselves but for our life with one another, in short, “to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God, in the face of Jesus Christ.” Light is given so that we may be light for others. How do we know any of this? Only through the Gospel which illuminates our understanding of God naturally and supernaturally, by grace, we might say, in the concurrence of things natural and supernatural.
Matthew is called from “the receipt of custom,” in other words, a tax collector, like the publican several Sundays ago viewed in contrast to the Pharisee. Here, too, the Pharisees associate publicans with sinners and use that association to attack Jesus. “Why eateth your Master with publicans and sinners?” The conversation brings out the meaning of Matthew’s call to follow Jesus. It is a call to the ministry of repentance, a ministry of mercy received that gives mercy in turn. As such, it is a call to wholeness or better, to holiness which is really about the gathering of all things back to God from whom all things come.
That it seems so black and white might seem to suggest that collecting taxes or business and economics in general is evil. Kathleen Stock, observes that “black and white thinking and a lack of tolerance for ambiguity” is a feature of the social and therapeutic culture of our times. There is “a splitting of the world into good or bad objects, … [and] a failure to distinguish fervent wants from real needs.” She calls it “toddler logic,” meaning “I should get what I desperately want, and never mind whether it might be actually best for me, or what will happen afterwards.” Is that the case with the Feast of Matthew? I think not but in place of ambiguity there is a depth and wisdom that speaks to who and what we really are and need in Christ.
Matthew is the first saint of autumn. His feast stands at the equipoise of darkness and light in the cycle of nature’s year, the autumnal equinox, when the day and the night are of equal duration. It points us to the inevitable slide into winter – I know, we don’t want to think about that! His feast signals the encroaching darkness of nature’s year, yet paradoxically awakens us to the light that shines out of the darkness of our worldly lives. We are awakened to “the light of the knowledge of the glory of God, in the face of Jesus Christ,” to spiritual light and life. It is not that the business world and in particular collecting of taxes is somehow evil. It is more a question about what has ultimate meaning in our lives that then orders our affairs to God rather than the other way around. It is a question about the direction and character of our wills.
Two paintings, perhaps, help us to appreciate the interplay of darkness and light. Caravaggio’s ‘The Call of St. Matthew’ (c. 1600), a representation of the Gospel story we just heard, and ‘The Inspiration of St. Matthew’ (c. 1602), a depiction of Matthew as an evangelist, hang in the Church of San Luigi dei Francesi in Rome. The interplay of darkness and light are prominent in both both in a style known as chiaroscuro or tenebrism.
‘The Call of St. Matthew’ depicts a dark interior scene of men at a table counting money with huddled heads; a worldly scene, we might say, of cupidity and greed. In the darkness of the scene, following the pointing finger of Christ, light illuminates the face of Matthew and his right hand which is touching coins on the table. His left hand points, it seems, to himself. There is a questioning look on his face. His expression is one of uncertainty and self-doubt, a kind of questioning akin to the Last Supper where the disciples in reaction to Jesus’s words about his betrayal all ask, “Is it I, Lord?” In the painting, it is as if Matthew is saying, ‘do you mean, me?’
The openness to Christ’s call, “follow me,” is Matthew’s conversion. Out of the darkness of human intrigue, with the accompanying overtones of deceit and dishonesty, comes the contrasting and compelling glance of Christ, a look and a word which changes everything. “He arose, and followed him.”
The painting of ‘The Inspiration of St. Matthew’ suggests that same power of transcendent and mysterious light falling upon Matthew, poised with pen in hand writing his Gospel. His figure is twisted while he looks upwards to the angel of divine inspiration, the inspiration that culminates in The Gospel of St. Matthew. Again, at first glance, there is some ambiguity about which figure is Matthew in ‘The Call of St. Matthew,’ but as Marilyn noticed, the face of Matthew in ‘The Inspiration’ makes it clear which face is Matthew in ‘The Call’. Close attention to the hands and the arc of light also resolve any ambiguity and reveal a depth of insight into the vagaries of human character in the other figures who are either puzzled, indifferent or utterly unaware.
We celebrate both the call of St. Matthew and the Gospel of St. Matthew. At the heart of our celebration is the question about heavenly love in relation to our worldly preoccupations, about light and darkness; and the light that shines out of darkness. The light comes from no natural source. The presence and the glance of Christ are the light that illuminates the darkness and the confusions of our human hearts.
His look is what we see and hear in the dance of the liturgy. It is always about Christ looking at us in love and compassion and calling us to follow him. It always counters the easy yet despairing hedonisms of our worldly lives or the compulsive obsessions with know-how thinking without any thought for know-what thinking about meaning.
It challenges us about our fundamental commitments. The call of Matthew and the Gospel of Matthew illuminate the darkness of what the Collect calls our “covetous desires and inordinate love of riches.” It calls us simply to follow Christ.
Through the look of Christ, Matthew discovers what is “more gold than gold” to use Sappho’s lovely phrase. He is found in the light that illuminates and redeems, the light that sanctifies and reveals in the midst of every darkness, both the darkness of nature’s year and the darkness of our confusions and concerns. His calling and his Gospel awaken us to “the light of the knowledge of the glory of God, in the face of Jesus Christ.” Like St. Matthew, our vocation to follow him who is our life and truth.
“We preach not ourselves but Christ Jesus the Lord; and ourselves
your servants for Jesus’ sake.”
Fr. David Curry
Feast of St. Matthew (Trinity 14) 2025