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Neftalí Zazueta

A First-Person Sermon

Natural Unit: Mark 2:13-3:6

            I woke up this morning with a strange heaviness in my chest. My bed, usually a sanctuary of comfort with its soft duck feathers, felt suffocating. The night's rest was haunted by images of desperate old women, their trembling hands holding out their last coins, and the heart-wrenching cries of children as Roman soldiers dragged their mothers away for failing to pay taxes. These visions clung to me like shadows, refusing to dissipate.

            I am Levi, a tax collector for the Roman Empire. In these oppressive times, where my fellow Israelites suffer, I thrive. Wealth and privilege are my constant companions, thanks to my position that grants me the power to extort money at will. Guilt is a luxury I can't afford, yet today, an inexplicable sadness lingers like a dark cloud over my heart.

            The nature of my work and my contact with people from all walks of life allow me to be well-informed about the cultural currents in Israel. Lately, the talk has been of a rabbi named Jesus. They say he teaches with authority, even a hint of divinity. I haven't paid much attention to him, but his speeches seem to soothe the broken and the poor, keeping them distracted from men like me. But today, I can't shake off this feeling of unease.

            As I dress, preparing for another day of collecting "contributions," I remind myself of tonight's governor's feast in the palace. It's a grand occasion where Herod himself will acknowledge our efforts in filling Rome's coffers. I've planned a short day at the tax booth to prepare for tonight's gala. I need to make the best of impressions.

            The sun had barely risen that morning when a sense of foreboding settled over me. The air seemed thicker, and the usual bustle of Capernaum felt muted. Then, as the day began in my official post, a man appeared before me. I didn't see him come; he simply stood there, looking at me with an intensity that froze me in place. His gaze pierced through me, and somehow, I felt exposed, as if he saw every dark corner of my soul. His eyes do not condemn me, and yet the weight of my sins crashed over me. All the faces of those I've wronged flooded my mind once again.

            I couldn't bear to look at him. My head hung low, shame burning through me. How does he know? Why do I feel this way? He hasn't even spoken a word, yet I stand judged. The disgust I felt for my occupation, for myself, was overwhelming. A cold sweat broke out on my brow as I struggled to breathe.

            Finally, I mustered the courage to meet his eyes again. There was no anger, only peace—a profound peace that reached into my very being. Then, Jesus spoke...  "Follow me."

            In that moment, everything changed. The wealth, the status, the comfort of my home, and the gala tonight—all seemed meaningless. I abandoned it all. Nothing mattered except following him. I didn't know where that path led, but I knew it was the only one I could take. I've found forgiveness, a peace I've never known.

            As I left my government post behind, I felt light and unburdened. My past life fades, and with each step, I embrace a new beginning. Following Jesus, I found true purpose, a life worth living. No comfort or privilege could ever compare to the sense of purpose and peace I had just found in Him.

            I had never known joy like this before. When I decided to ignore the governor's gala, it wasn't a difficult choice. Instead, that very night, I summoned my friends to my house for dinner to meet Jesus. It was a gathering of the most corrupt people in the land—crooked politicians, tax collectors, and the worst swindlers in Israel. I knew they needed to hear the Man whose words soothe the soul. The Messiah who had come to truly set free the worst of the worst. The Pharisees, the self-appointed religious police, were stunned that Jesus would associate with people like us. But Jesus said, "It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have come to call rotten sinners, not those who pretend to be blameless."

            As I began traveling with Jesus, I was amazed at how much he laughed. I always thought it was improper for religious people to laugh, but Jesus was different. He always seemed happy, making those around him enjoy life together. One day, some Pharisees complained that Jesus' disciples, including me, didn't fast like John's and theirs did. Jesus defended us, saying, "How can the guests at a wedding fast while there is a feast to be had to honor their friend, the bridegroom? This is a time to enjoy life and be merry for God's provision!"

            The Pharisees, joy-killers as they were, couldn't stand the fact that fellowship with Jesus brought joy to the hopeless. Jesus told them their arrogant attitude was like trying to patch an old garment with new cloth—it would tear it apart. He explained that the new life he brings is constantly expanding, bringing joy. Like new wine in old wineskins, his life would break the old sinful human nature.

            One day, we were walking through grainfields, hungry at noon. We picked some heads of grain and ate. We were enjoying our time with Jesus when the Pharisees complained we were breaking the Sabbath by doing "work." They were very legalistic, always creating man-made rules about something God never commanded. Jesus replied, "The Sabbath was made for man to enjoy, not man for the Sabbath."

            What struck me was realizing Jesus was God incarnate. He had authority and power over creation. On another Sabbath day, Jesus went to teach in the synagogue. A man with a defective hand was brought to him. The religious police watched closely to see if he would heal him on the Sabbath, hoping to charge him with working. Jesus asked, "Is it right to do good on the Sabbath?" The Pharisees stayed silent. Yes, it's always the right time to do what is good.

            Jesus then displayed his power as the Messiah. He asked the man to stretch out his hand and healed his hand before everyone. Ironically, the Pharisees began plotting to kill Jesus on that same holy day! Jesus could have healed him in private, away from the judging eyes of his enemies, but he was teaching me how to truly care for the most vulnerable in a very public way. In my old life, I had no shame in hurting the weak publicly; Jesus had no shame either in healing the weak in public.  

            At that moment, I knew following Jesus was worth abandoning everything. No comfort or privilege could compare to being part of this group of men who had given up everything to follow him. Jesus didn't mind associating with sinners like me. He invited me to join him, to learn from him. He was fun to be around, making people enjoy life in fellowship. He provided for our needs and had the power to heal and change destinies.

            My Lord Jesus was worth it all.

neftali 

“Water, Oil and a Kiss”

Luke 7:36 narrates one of the most remarkable examples of extravagant worship in the Bible. It was not one of the poetic songs of David or a member of the Levites leading the choir around the tabernacle. It was a scene that occurred around a table in an obscure town called Bethany. A woman entered a room full of men without an invitation and the atmosphere was suddenly permeated with perfume. In a middle-eastern society of the first century such an act was not welcomed.

Some suggest that the woman in the story is Mary Magdalene, others believe the woman of this story is Mary of Bethany. We can’t with certainty point to either one, so it is best to leave the woman of this story in anonymity. What we know for a fact is that the woman does not fit in this dinner party. Women endured great prejudice in the society of the time. To compound the shock of the self-righteous host, the woman’s label as a “sinner” is a euphemism for prostitute.  

It was customary of the time of Jesus in Israel that whenever a rich person hosted a dinner or celebration, poor people would congregate outside the house and waited for a piece of bread or a morsel to eat at the host’s generosity. Waiting among them, you can see this woman in search of something. She lived with a hunger that bread could not satisfy. Reluctantly she carries her shame through the stares of the poor and makes her way into the room looking down. Silence is ominous as the eyes of men in the room turn to her. She looks for Jesus--the rabbi that speaks words of life. A strange thing happened inside of her the last time she heard him speak from afar. The Rabbi… no eye contact, she goes down to Jesus’ feet. No words are spoken as the muffled sound of years of pain and wasted youth surface in tears.

Simon questions the divinity of Jesus. “If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what kind of woman this is who is touching him…” Oh, he knows, and he sees. He sees deeper than the eye can see. He sees an extravagant display of worship. The senses of all those present are suddenly awakened to something beyond their logic. An exquisite aroma has filled the room and the perfume has become a distraction that shifts the attention away from the condition of the woman. Brokenness. A well of tears had watered Jesus’ feet. With nothing at hand, her loosened hair and lips wipe off the offending tears. She wonders, could the most expensive ointment remove any trace her mundane humanity touching the rabbi’s feet? She pours the last drop of it.

Such a display is disgraceful and a waste for some of the self-righteous men in the presence, but for the Master, it’s a symbol of a heart that has surrendered to love.

Jesus responded to her unspoken plea: “Your sins are forgiven…go in peace”

As I ponder on the power of such display, I feel a sense of reverence. Jesus is sitting right beside me. He does not condemn me for my faults, he is able to see right trough my inadequacies and still invites me to fellowship. Is there a way to offer a gift like Mary’s to the Lord? Is my life a living sacrifice? Is my worship a genuine reflection of a humble heart? How can I truly demonstrate my passion for the Lord? Have I-- as Simon failed to treat Jesus as an honored guest and surrender to his Lordship?  As I contemplate Jesus in silence, I realize that he expects nothing but a broken heart from me. He is the one that has given me a kiss to heal the wounds of my soul. He gave me his Word to wash the sinful grime of my mind and has also poured the Spirit’s oil to empower me live for Him.

neftali