Some time ago, a group of
teenagers gathered outside a parish hall after the annual youth night event.
One girl was seen lingering near the edge, with her arms crossed and eyes down.
She hadn’t spoken all evening. Her silence and sad face drew attention. Later,
a volunteer told me she’d just returned after years away, kicked out of her
home by her parents, struggling with addictions, and unsure if she still
belonged in church. “I didn’t think Jesus would want someone like me around,”
she murmured silently with the parish volunteer. This is the exact kind of
person Jesus sits down to eat with in today’s Gospel.
Mark tells us that after
calling Levi, a tax collector, a collaborator of the Roman Empire, a man
despised as a traitor and a cheater by his compatriots, Jesus doesn’t keep him
at arm’s length. He goes to his house and shares a meal. Sitting at the
table and dining with someone is a sign of friendship, love, and communion. And
at that table are “many tax collectors and sinners.” Being at the
table with Jesus means a lot for them. We can imagine how they must have
felt, the joy that radiated on their faces, sitting very close to Jesus, a man
whose fame had drawn a lot of attention.
This unexpected situation
scandalized the Pharisees. “Why does he eat with such people?” they asked.
But Jesus’ reply reveals
the heart of God for sinners, those at the margins of society: “Those who
are well do not need a physician, but the sick. I did not come to call the
righteous, but sinners.”
Jesus meets them in
their mess and calls them by name. Levi doesn’t become holy before
he follows Jesus. He felt Jesus's love freely and decided to follow him.
And his healing begins here.
This is the heart of the
Gospel. God’s grace isn’t a reward for good behavior. It’s the lifeline thrown
to those drowning in the rivers of this world, in sin with all its
ramifications. We are reminded that the Church isn’t a museum for saints, it’s
a field hospital for the wounded, as late Pope Francis often said.
This Gospel reveals to us
also the mystery of the Eucharist. It’s not a prize for the perfect. It’s
medicine for the weak, food for our earthly pilgrimage, and a foretaste of the
banquet where all who hunger for God’s mercy will be seated and served.
So, ask yourself: “Are
you holding back because you feel unworthy to come to Jesus? Hear this: your
awareness of your need to be forgiven and saved is your readiness.
Therefore, come as you are.
If you are tempted to
judge who “belongs” at the table or not, remember, none of us earned our place.
We were invited not because we’re clean, but because we’re loved.
Are you walking past the
“Levis” of our day, the outcast, the shamed, the ones the world writes off?
Jesus is already sitting with them and invites us to join Him.
In the end, we can
realize that holiness isn’t about avoiding sinners. It’s about loving them as
Jesus does, close enough to share a meal, close enough to change a life.
Holiness is also about acknowledging our sinfulness and accepting that Christ
dines with us, shares His words with us to nourish us all.
And maybe, just maybe,
that sinner He’s calling… is you. Good.
He’s been waiting for you and me. May we not delay his invitation further.
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