Sermon on Matthew 10:24-39
Pastor Jennifer Garcia
In the movie, Life of Brian, by the British comedy group Monty Python, a man named Brian who was born the same night as Jesus keeps getting mistaken for the Messiah.
There’s a scene where he’s walking through a busy town, and there’s a line of people asking, “Alms for a leper!” And then, he passes a man who says, “Alms for an ex-leper!” and he does a double take.
It turns out this man had been cured by Jesus, but he’s upset because “One minute [he’s] a leper with a trade, next minute [his] livelihood's gone.”
After he follows the perplexed and irritated Brian for quite some way and goes at length into his story, saying he didn’t want to be a leper again but maybe“if [Jesus] could make [him] a bit lame in one leg during the middle of the week. You know, something beggable, but not leprosy,” Brian finally gives him a coin in hopes he will go away.
The man exclaims, “Half a denary for me bloody life story?”
Brian shakes his head and says, “There's no pleasing some people.”
The man responds, “That's just what Jesus said, sir!”
Indeed, there’s just no pleasing some people. That pretty much sums up the opening of our Gospel reading today.
Right before it, John the Baptist sent some of his disciples to see if Jesus was the real deal, because he was in prison and couldn’t go himself. After telling those disciples to share with John about all of the healing and new life theywitnessed, Jesus started talking to the crowds about John.
He confirmed that John was the one who was to prepare the way—the Elijah figure who would announce the coming Messiah.Jesus insisted, “Let anyone with ears listen!”
Then, he turned to the crowds following him and basically said, “There’s no pleasing some people!”
People complained that John was a party pooper.
Then, they complained that Jesus was a party animal.
They were too busy judging John and Jesus to see God at work right in front of them.
There’s just no pleasing some people.
That’s a good summary of modern life too, isn’t it?
Whether it’s politics, celebrity culture, or just someone posting an opinion online, someone’s going to be upset. There’ll probably be some name-calling. Someone might get canceled. Someone else will probably make a profit.
There’s a sense of outrage in the ethos. Often it seems overblown. Sometimes it seems justified, especially if it’s outrage on behalf of vulnerable or marginalized neighbors.
But either way, there’s just no pleasing some people. And sometimes “some people” is us.
Why? Because we’re fallible human beings, full of hurt and ego and limited understanding and bias—and everyone else is too.
Paul gives us what I think is one of the most accurate depictions of human nature in his letter to the Romans:
“I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.”
How very human.
How often do I resolve to do better—to be better—and fail the very next moment?
How often do I lose my temper or say the thing I know will hurt someone I love or lack the courage to tell the truth that needs to be said?
How often do I fail to live up to the ideals I aspire to?
Every day. Every hour. All the time.
There’s just no pleasing some people. Me, especially.
How about you? Do you fail to do what you want and do the very thing you hate?
How very human of us.
Fortunately, our Savior, who’s 100% human as well as 100% divine, knows this about us. He didn’t say, “There’s just no pleasing some people,” and storm off in a huff, giving up on humanity entirely. Thank God.
Instead, he turned from his frustration with the crowds to prayer. Maybe not a bad strategy when we feel that there’s just no pleasing some people. Jesus prayed, thanking God for hiding divine mysteries from the smart people and revealing them to the childlike. Maybe those of us who are so hard to please are the ones who think we’ve grown out ofwonder, awe, joy, and delight.
Maybe it’s hard to please people who think they have it all figured out.
It’s a lot easier to please people who are open to new ideas and experiences, who expect that the world might surprise them still.
Our Buddhist siblings talk about “beginner’s mind” in meditation: the technique of trying to come to each sitting as if it were the first time—open, curious, without comparison with the last time, without expectation of any particular results. There’s spiritual wisdom there that I have a hard time putting into words, but what would it be like if more people approached the world with beginner’s mind?
Maybe we’d be easier to please.
Maybe that’s part of what Jesus meant at the end of our reading when he invited all who are weary to come to him and rest.
Maybe the world feels lighter when we lay down our expectations, our disappointments, and whatever makes us difficult to please.
Jesus could have become jaded and cynical because of people’s double standard with him and John the Baptist. But he didn’t.
He held onto his ideals and stayed true to his mission.
He continued to proclaim the Beloved Community despite his detractors.
When he was faced with the might of the Roman Empire, he didn’t enter Jerusalem riding a warhorse and commanding an army. Instead, as Zechariah put it, he was “humble and riding on a donkey” followed by a small band of confused fisherman and tax collectors.
Instead of dominating and amassing earthly power, he came to spread God’s inclusion, peace, justice, and love.
Jesus held onto his ideals, and so should we.
On this Independence Day weekend with its especially significant 250th anniversary, I’ve been thinking about this country’s ideals and where they match or at least rhyme with Jesus’ ideals.
Our Zechariah reading with a king riding on a donkey reminded me of George Washington’s reputed humility. He set the precedent for being referred to as “Mr. President” instead of a more grandiose title, and he had the wisdom to not run for re-election after two terms, opening the way for new leadership.
The founders set up beautiful ideals like “freedom of religion,” which keeps us from having a state sponsored religion and allows us and all of our neighbors to express our gloriously diverse faith traditions.
The Statue of Liberty has Emma Lazarus’s poem “The New Colossus” inscribed on its pedestal, reminding us that we are an eclectic country that says to the world, “Give me your tired, your poor, / Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” It doesn’t sound dissimilar to Jesus saying, “Come to me, all you who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.”
It’s important to note that the US doesn’t always live up to its ideals, just as Christianity often doesn’t live up to Jesus’ ideals, because we’re humans, and “[we] do not do what [we] want, but[we] do the very thing [we] hate.”
It’s why we need each other to keep us accountable to upholding the ideals of our country and continue the American Experiment.
It’s why we as Christians need God to teach us and to offer us grace each and every time we fail.
And with the power of the Holy Spirit, each and every time we fail, we can try again to live out the ideals of God’s Beloved Communitythat Jesus worked for, despite his detractors.
There may be no pleasing some people, but that won’t stop us from following Jesus’ example and trying to live out God’s inclusion, peace, justice, and love.