"Inside Out and Outside In"
Matthew 21:1-17
Once upon a time, there was a church which was studying how it could do a better job reaching
out to its surrounding community. The mission board met several times to discuss how to best
accomplish this. Since there were many homeless in the downtown area around the church, a
men’s overnight shelter was considered. After all, the board thought, the massive church building
with its shrinking congregation had more than enough available space; even showers adjacent to a
now dilapidated gymnasium. Along with the homeless hungry were the hungry with homes. Were a
free lunch program or food pantry feasible options? With the spiraling costs of basic health, dental
and eye care, could a free or low cost medical clinic of some type be a possibility? Or how about a
weekday worship service designed especially for those who might not be comfortable with the
traditional Sunday morning worship experience? As the church was endowed to the tune of over
sixteen million dollars, funding for any or all of these mission efforts was a non-issue.
Over several months, the mission board went to work doing feasibility studies, cost analyses,
logistical planning, crossing every t and dotting every i. At the same time, however, another group
was hard at work. Several longtime and highly-respected members of that congregation met to
share their mutual concerns about the mission board’s ideas. These members were neither philo-
sophically nor theologically opposed to mission and community outreach. In fact, their generosity
had for years helped fund several missionaries serving from impoverished areas of Appalachia, to
flood-ravaged coasts of the Gulf, to war-torn parts of Central America, to the starving population of
Zaire. The concern of this group was what type of people might be attracted to their church. After
all, the congregation had a long tradition of inviting and welcoming doctors, attorneys, educators,
business people, the cultured and the connected. The line of rationalization was that the people in
the church’s surrounding community might feel out of place.
In Jesus’ day, we might imagine some of the religious leaders – most of them from well-to-do
backgrounds – sharing their mutual concerns about the work of the itinerant preacher from Naza-
reth. His blue-collar, apparently ill-reputed hometown certainly put Jesus outside the elitist circles
of the chief priests, scribes, and Pharisees. Those most attracted to Jesus and His teaching were
among the least in the social order. Wherever Jesus went, He was followed by the blind, the lame,
the tax-collector, the prostitute, the outcast and the powerless. The stalwart pillars of religious
order were concerned that as a rabbi of their faith, Jesus was welcoming into the inner-circle of
Judaism the wrong kind of people; those who just might feel out of place in their temple.
The second part of this morning’s lesson from Matthew’s Gospel follows immediately on the
hooves of Jesus’ arrival in Jerusalem. We know that story well. Jesus’ entry into the city prompts an
almost Mardi Gras type celebration. The colt upon which Jesus rides [the only instance recorded in
the gospels in which Jesus rides rather than walks or sails] steps carefully over branches cut from
trees, along with the people’s very garments. The shouts of the multitudes along the route of the
parade acclaim Jesus a king in the Davidic line, and the prophet of YHWH. This procession is a threat
to both the Roman guard charged with keeping the peace, and to the religious leadership charged
with preserving the purity and unity of the temple.
The latter were none too open to some of the rabble accompanying Jesus. Many were Passover
pilgrims with dirt under their fingernails and manure on the soles of their sandals. Sure, they and
the money with which they could buy sacrificial animals in the outer court around the temple were welcome.
The money changers were more than willing to exchange their Roman coins for temple currency,
and take a little extra for their trouble. But basically, these pilgrims were outsiders to the temple elite;
not their peeps.
Also along the road that day were the blind, the lame, the maimed, the disfigured; those viewed
as suffering just punishment for their sin, or the sin of their parents or grandparents. Some were
limping along. Some were being led or carried. Some were dragging themselves along this oddly
royal processional. In Luke’s account of that first Palm Sunday, he notes that Pharisees were
demanding that Jesus tell these followers to cease and desist their shouts of praise.
Beginning at verse 12 of chapter 21, Matthew recounts the familiar story of Jesus overturning
the tables of the money changers, upsetting the chairs of the vendors, and driving out “all who
were selling and buying in the temple.” We could say that on that day, Jesus cleaned house. In
effect, He drove the insiders out, reminding them in no uncertain terms why the temple existed in
the first place when He shouted, “It is written, ‘My house shall be called a house of prayer’; but
you are making it a den of robbers.”
Then, Matthew tells us, “The blind and lame came to him in the temple, and he cured them.”
Do we see what’s happening here? That rabble the religious leaders so disdain – those dirty-finger-
nailed, smelly-sandaled, sin-racked pilgrims looking for the face of God in His house of prayer;
those wrong kind of people – find themselves now within the inner-circle; seeking and finding
healing and wholeness at the very feet of Christ, in the halls of the temple of God.
To make matters worse for the chief priests and scribes who were trying to preserve the peace,
purity and unity of the temple, children were evidently loose in the temple shouting Jesus’ praise.
It was like a children’s chat run amok. And the priests were livid as they scolded Jesus: “Do you
hear what these are saying?” I like Jesus’ answer: ahhh….”Yes.” Then drawing upon the words of
Psalm 8, Jesus asks: “have you never read, ‘Out of the mouths of infants and nursing babies you
have prepared praise for yourself.’” Other translations render it: “Out of the mouths of babes
and sucklings, thou hast brought perfect praise.” This apparently shuts them up for the time
being. This periscope [I love to use that word, which is just a seminarian’s way of saying “passage”]
ends with Jesus departing from the temple to Bethany where He would spend His last days, staying
with dear friends Mary, Martha, and Lazarus whom He had raised from the tomb. There we have
it: a parade; a driving out of insiders; a welcoming in of outsiders.
As you know, folks knock daily at the doors of Central Presbyterian Church. Some are looking
for food. Some are chasing gas money or bus fare. Others are seeking lodging. No small number
are looking for a warm place and a friendly smile. A few are looking for guidance and prayer. As
best we can, we try to help most all visitors and turn few away empty. In many instances, we ex-
tend an invitation to join us for Sunday worship. Few if any show up. But what if they did; these
folks who figuratively have dirt under their fingernails and manure on the soles of their sandals?
How would I receive them? Would I extend to them the same right hand of fellowship I’d extend to
the well-groomed and the well-spoken? Would I recognize in them a desire to find healing and
wholeness in this house of prayer? Would I treat them as an insider, or an outsider? These are not
rhetorical questions. I struggle with them. And so should all of us who are on the inside.
How about those who represent the long-rejected and long-suffering of our society who recog-
nize in Jesus one – maybe the only one – who accepts and loves them for who they are: the single
mother; the gay man or lesbian woman; the learning disabled; the mentally ill; the person of
different ethnicity or skin color; the biracial; the physically-challenged; the teen with the purple hair,
and pierced tongue, and sleeve of tattoos. As those who profess to be Jesus’ followers, would we
too accept and love them – not for ‘who they can become,’ but for who they are?
If Jesus’ arrival means anything, could it mean that He comes into town to turn things inside
out, and outside in? Could Jesus’ arrival mean turning me inside out, and outside in? As a Presby-
terian, seminary-educated, relatively affluent, decently groomed, grounded as I am in Christian
doctrine, I’m challenged by that. And so should all of us who are on the inside. As Forrest Gump
once famously said: “And that’s all I’m gonna say about that.”
Let’s return to that church struggling with community outreach. After several months of discus-
sion and negotiation, it was decided to do a trial run at a free luncheon. A date was set. A cooking
and serving crew was enlisted. A menu was prepared. When the day came, a few from the dissent-
ing group decided to stop by the church to keep an eye on things. As it turned out, the community
response was overwhelming, and the serving crew was short. Although their hearts weren’t in it,
the keep an eye on things folks agreed to put on aprons and help serve. Mrs. Jones [we’ll call her]
was walking by one of the tables when she heard a voice: “Mam.” She turned and saw a little boy;
his hair disheveled; his glasses held together with tape crooked on his face; his nose encrusted; his
clothes soiled and torn. “Mam, I haven’t had anything to eat for a while cos my mommy doesn’t
have any money. This tastes so good. May I please have some more?” Tears streamed down her
face as she returned to the kitchen to get another helping for the little boy whose family she and
Mr. Jones began to pick up on Sunday mornings and bring to church. That day, Jesus had arrived for
Mrs. Jones, turning her inside out, and outside in. Amen.