Homily for Feast of St. Matthew

Homily for the Feast of St. Matthew

Sept. 21, 2020
Matt 9: 9-13
Provincial House, New Rochelle, N.Y.

“Jesus saw a man named Matthew” (Matt 9: 9).

Pope Francis, while he was still Jorge Bergoglio, was so taken with this gospel scene that he lifted a phrase from St. Bede’s homily upon it as his episcopal motto:  miserando atque eligendo, “by having mercy and by choosing,” which in its fuller context explains that this is how Jesus saw that man named Matthew sitting at his customs post.  As most of us already know, it’s the patristic reading for today.  The straightforward text of the gospel, elucidated by Bede, tells us that Jesus sees with merciful eyes, and because of his mercy, he chooses this man, calls him into followship, calls him into fellowship.

I suppose our picture of the scene and of Matthew himself is colored somewhat by what The Chosen presented—which is fascinating and complex.  Pope Francis has colored the scene by referring to Caravaggio’s rendition of it.

Perhaps the most striking feature in the painting, after the light tending from above right toward Matthew is the hands:  Jesus’ hand, a disciple’s hand, the hand of a gentleman at the table, Matthew’s hands, and the hand of the man standing over Matthew.

At a quick glance, Jesus seems to be pointing, like the disciple and the gentleman.  A closer look seems to show that Jesus is reaching out toward Matthew, maybe beckoning, maybe even grasping at him to pull him in.  It may be seen as a hand of mercy, choosing the man at the table.

The disciple, between us and Jesus, is pointing, probably at Matthew.  What does the gesture mean?  What’s the disciple thinking?  Is he pointing out Matthew to Jesus:  this is the guy who’s taking our money? this is the one I’ve told you about?

The bearded man is pointing toward Matthew while looking toward Jesus, as if to mean, “Did you just call him?”

And Matthew—he’s the picture of misery, maybe even shame.  His hands are grasping the coins on the table.  Is he struggling to decide how he shall respond?  Is he loath to leave this job, this income, this security?  Is he already acquainted with Jesus, friend of tax collectors and sinners?  Dare he hope that Jesus can make him something else?

Then there’s the man standing over Matthew, an older fellow, it appears, maybe Matthew’s supervisor.  His attention is on neither Jesus nor Matthew, but on the money, which he’s reaching for.

There’s tension here, as there must have been when Jesus beckoned to Matthew and said, “Follow me.”

Jesus stretches out that same hand, that welcoming, merciful hand, to us still today, trying to pull us into companionship with him.  We sit here, like Matthew, deciding daily whether we’ll follow him, or cling to something less that we’ve kept on the table.