(Matthew 11:16-30)

Expectations…  Everybody’s got ‘em.  But sometimes dealing with them can be difficult.  Just ask the Braves’ Jeff Francouer, the former Parkview phenom, who just got sent down to the minor leagues because he’s mired in a terrible batting slump.

Expectations can also get in the way…  A man once asked his good friend why that friend had never married.  The friend sighed, and said, “Well, I guess I just never met the right woman…  I guess I was always looking for the perfect girl.”

“Oh, come on now,” said his buddy.  “Surely you met at least one girl over the years that you wanted to marry.”

“Yes, there was this one girl,” he finally admitted. “I guess she was the perfect girl…  The only perfect girl I ever really met.  She was perfect in every way…  I really thought that she was the perfect girl for me.”

“Well, why didn’t you marry her, then?”

The friend paused, and then sadly replied, “Apparently… she was also looking for the perfect guy.”

And what’s true for us individually is also true, many times, for us collectively as well. For instance, congregations are notorious for wanting, indeed expecting, the perfect pastor.

In fact, I once came across the following list of expectations of the perfect pastor:

  • He preaches exactly 15 minutes, never a second more, and then promptly sits down.
  • He condemns sin… but never steps on anyone’s toes.
  • He works from 8 in the morning until 10 at night doing everything from writing sermons to sweeping the floors; and he’s on call 24/7, fifty two weeks out of the year, yet he leads a balanced life and still has time to be with his family.
  • He earns only 400 dollars a week (and gives half of it back as offering), drives a late model car, buys a lot of books, is always well-dressed, and provides for his family’s every need.
  • He’s 36 years old, but has 40 years of experience.
  • He is tall on the short-side, heavy-set in a thin sort of way, and handsome, but not too handsome to be a temptation.
  • He has eyes of blue… or brown, to fit the occasion, and wears his hair parted in the middle – the left side is dark and straight, the right side, brown and wavy.
  • He has a burning desire to work with the youth, and yet is always visiting the elderly.
  • He smiles all the time, while keeping a straight face; he has a keen sense of humor but is always very serious.
  • He makes 15 pastoral visits a day on church members, spends all of his time out in the community evangelizing non-members, and yet is also in his office whenever he’s needed.

I gotta tell you.  If you find that guy – hire him on the spot!  But

I also gotta tell you – that pastor doesn’t exist!  Because when we look for perfection, of course, we’re always going to be disappointed, aren’t we?  For there is no perfect pastor, just as there is no perfect congregation.

A few years ago there was a piece circulating in Lutheran church newsletters with some tongue-in-cheek suggestions for church members unhappy with their pastor.  “Simply send a copy of this letter to six other churches who are also tired of their ministers,” it said.  “Then bundle up your pastor and send him to the church on the top of the list, while at the same time adding your church name to the bottom of the list.  In one week’s time, you will receive 16,436 ministers, and at least one of them should be a dandy.  Have faith, and remember don’t forget to follow these instructions to the letter.  One church broke the chain… and they got their old minister back!”

The truth of the matter is – there is no perfection to be found in this life, at least among human beings.

In the novel Eminence, written by Morris West, the main character, a cardinal in the Roman Catholic Church, is, at one point, being interviewed by a journalist who asks him, “What’s wrong with the church?”  And the cardinal replies, “The same things that have been wrong with it for two thousand years – people!”

The other day I was looking up a church online at the ELCA website when I came across another congregation in the very same town.  So, out of curiosity, I clicked on this congregation’s report, as well, and discovered that it was only organized back in 1994, when it reported an average of 229 worshipers per Sunday.  But just thirteen years later, in 2007, they reported 4,948 worshipers each weekend!

Of course, now I was really intrigued.  So I clicked on the link to their website and browsed for a few minutes until I saw that you could actually listen to their pastors’ sermons.  So I went to that page, and randomly picked out a sermon by their senior pastor to listen to.  And in this sermon, their pastor was talking about the reasons why so many people outside the church have absolutely no interest in becoming involved in the church.  One man, in particular, had recently said to this pastor, “The biggest stumbling block for me isn’t Christ… its Christians.”  The man then went on to talk a little about the hateful, unforgiving, condescending, and judgmental things that Christians have said and done at times.

Well, after relating this encounter, and the man’s feeling that Christians, not Christ, are the problem, this pastor then did something surprising.  He asked everyone in the congregation that morning to turn to the person next to them and say, “You’re the problem!”

Now if I had only known that it was this easy to grow a mega-church, I would have told you folks that you were the problem a long time ago!  (Just kidding.)

But my point is simply this, often times we are the problem; pastors and congregations alike.  And a big part of the problem is, again, our expectations.

There was a cartoon once that showed a young boy standing toe-to-toe and nose-to-nose with his teacher.  Behind them was a blackboard covered with unsolved math problems; presumably ones that the boy had been unable to finish, or do correctly.  And in the caption, the boy is saying to his teacher, “I’m not an underachiever… you’re just an over-expecter!”

Expectations.  Everybody’s got ‘em.  And they can really get in the way.  Sometimes… they can be really hard to deal with.  Just ask Jesus…

You see, expectations, especially unmet expectations, were a big problem for him as well.  Now you wouldn’t think so, being the Son of God and all that.  But they were.

For instance, in the verses just before today’s gospel reading, Jesus is having a conversation with the crowds about John the Baptist. He says to them: What were you expecting when you went out into the wilderness to hear him preach?  Did you go out into the desert looking for someone dressed in fine clothes, speaking messages that were uncritical and comforting; easy for everyone to hear, including the rich and those in power?

Or did you go out there to see and hear a prophet?  Someone who was going to challenge you with the hard and honest truth.  Let

me tell you folks, said Jesus, John was indeed a prophet of God.  “Truly I tell you, among those born of women, no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist…”

And as our passage this morning opens, Jesus is saying to them: But you just don’t get it, do you?  What were you expecting?

You’re like immature children, he says.  And then he characterizes their expectations in this way: We played the flute for you, and yet you did not dance; we sang a dirge, and yet you did not mourn.  In other words, as Hubert Beck has described it, “We called the tune, and you wouldn’t dance to it; we sang the song that was supposed to move you, and you wouldn’t be moved!  What more can we do to make you do what we want you to do, to act like we want you to act…?”

“For John came neither eating nor drinking,” continues Jesus.  Remember John was the guy (says scripture) who wore camel’s hair clothing, and ate locusts and wild homey.  Not exactly the type looking for a life of leisure; not exactly the fun kind of guy you’d want to invite to your party.  And Jesus reminds them that they said of John, “He has a demon.”

While I “came eating and drinking,” said Jesus.  Someone who really enjoyed sitting down and sharing a good meal with people; who never turned down an invitation, no matter who it came from; that is, the kind of guy who was always at the top of everyone’s guest list.  And yet, says Jesus, you call me “a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.”

In other words, John and Jesus were almost polar opposites.  John was austere and confrontational.  And the people didn’t like that.

Whereas Jesus was accessible and understanding.  And the people didn’t like that either!  It seemed that no matter who God sent, it was never right.  Neither John nor Jesus met their expectations…

And it’s at this point that the lectionary normally skips ahead to verse 25, completely omitting Jesus’ harsh words in verses 20 thru 24.  Here Jesus sounds a lot more like John the Baptist than he does himself.  And maybe that’s why the folks who decide on the lectionary chose to skip these verses.

But I wanted you to hear them this morning.  Because they reflect the degree of anger and frustration Jesus was feeling at that moment.  He began to “reproach” the cities in which most of his deeds of power had been done, says our reading; that is, to rebuke them and express his “disapproval.”

He did this, because if anyone should have understood what he was all about and what he was trying to do; if anyone should have “gotten it,” it was these cities.  If anyone should have repented in the face of, and in response to, his power and authority, it was them.

But it seems, given the conversation they’ve been having here with Jesus, that they hadn’t.  Obviously, they just didn’t get it.  Therefore, says Jesus, it will be more tolerable on the Day of Judgment for Tyre and Sidon, where he had not done any similar deeds of power; and it will even be more tolerable for the notoriously wicked city of Sodom – than it will be for you.

Expectations; unmet, unfulfilled, unrealistic expectations would apparently be their downfall…

Several years ago, you may recall, those bracelets with “WWJD” on them were all the rage in Christian circles.  The “WWJD,” of course, stood for “What would Jesus do?” and it was a reminder to the one wearing it that, when facing difficult decisions, they should stop and try to think about what Jesus himself might do in that very same situation.  And then let that conclusion inform and shape their decision-making.  Not a bad idea, I thought.

But, unfortunately, and even though such a bracelet doesn’t even exist, many Christians are much more likely to wear one that has the letters “WDWWJTD” on it.  That is “What do we want Jesus to do.”

You see, many times we’re far less interested in knowing, or thinking, about what we could do to reflect our walk with Christ (in other words, what we could do for Jesus), and much more interested, however, in knowing, or thinking, about what Jesus could do for us!  …Expectations again.

How often – rather than focusing on our daily walk with Jesus, and how that walk of discipleship could and should impact the things we do and the decisions we make; that is, the expectations we should have of ourselves – we focus, instead, on our expectations of Jesus.  What can Jesus do for me?  How can he help me?  How can he make my life better, or more fulfilling?  How can he give me the things I want out of life?

The problem, here, is that it’s not supposed to be about our expectations, it’s not about what we want. Rather, it’s all about what we need.

Like any good parent, God is not really interested in, or swayed by, what his children want or desire. No, God, like any good parent, is much more concerned about what we need; about taking care of the basic needs of his people so that they can be healthy, happy, and well-adjusted.  And so that was what Jesus was all about as well.

Therefore, in the concluding verses of our gospel this morning, Jesus, in effect, puts down all the wise and intelligent people who think they’ve got it all figured out; the folks who are all caught up in the expectations they have of Jesus, instead of the expectations they should have of themselves in response to all that Jesus has done for them, and offers them.

“Thank you, Father,” says Jesus, that you’ve revealed these things, instead, to “infants.”  Now, however, he’s not referring to immature children. The Greek word here literally means “not speaking,” and therefore refers to that child before he or she can talk.

But it can also be used metaphorically to refer to those who, like infants, are completely dependent upon God.  Who, instead of having all these expectations and making demands of God, simply depend on God – like an infant – for everything they need in life.

Again… it’s not about what we want, it’s about what we need.  And to these so-called “infants” who trust and rely upon God, Jesus speaks the famous, and comforting, final words of our passage this morning.

Paul Tillich, one of the theological giants of the 20th century (and also a Lutheran), once wrote, “When I was of the age to receive confirmation and full membership in the Church, I was told to choose a passage from the Bible as the expression of my personal approach to the Biblical message and to the Christian Church.  Every confirmee was obliged to do so, and to recite the passage before the congregation.  When I chose the words, ‘Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden,’ I was asked, with a kind of astonishment and even irony, why I had chosen that particular passage.  For I was living under happy circumstances, and, being only fifteen years old, was without any apparent labor and burden.  I could not answer at that time; I felt a little embarrassed, but basically right.  And I was right, indeed; every child is right in responding immediately to those words; every adult is right in responding to them in all periods of his life, and under all… conditions…  These words of Jesus are universal, and fit every human being and every human situation…”

What Tillich was saying here is that all of us, no matter who we are, or what age or station in life we find ourselves, have basic needs that only Jesus Christ can fulfill, and burdens that only Jesus Christ can help us carry…

On this 4th of July holiday weekend, we have all probably stopped to think, at some point, about the freedom and independence we enjoy as Americans.  And what it means to live in this great nation; not a perfect nation, mind you, but a great one nonetheless.  And it occurred to me that we have a tendency, at times, to focus only on the good things this country has provided us, and all the wonderful aspects of being an American citizen.

But it also occurred to me that the greatness of this nation is, in the end, not really all about our wants and our desires, or our “personal expectations,” either.  In the end, the greatness of our country is not really about what we, or anyone else, wants, but what we actually need.

That’s what, I believe, this country was founded upon.  That’s what separates the United States, in my opinion, from virtually every other nation on the face of this earth.  And it’s probably no more beautifully expressed than in the words that are inscribed on a bronze plaque inside the pedestal of the Statue of Liberty; that historic landmark in New York harbor which has welcomed hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of immigrants to these shores; including all four of my grandparents.  It’s a poem, entitled “The New Colossus,” by Emma Lazarus:

Not like the bronze giant of Greek fame,

With conquering limbs astride from land to land;

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand

A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame

Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name

Mother of Exiles.  From her beacon-hand

Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command

The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she

With silent lips, “Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore,

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

Thus, even the Statue of Liberty, herself, does not represent what we, or anyone else, wants, but rather what we truly need.  And what Lady Liberty has so perfectly symbolized for more than a century now, is our need for a fresh start, a second chance, a new beginning, and a place to call home.

Well, as powerful as the symbol of the Statue of Liberty may be, and as poignant as that poem which adorns her pedestal may be, there is no more comforting or welcoming presence in this world than our Lord and Savior, Jesus the Christ; and no more comforting words, than the ones he spoke long before there even was a United States, or a Statue of Liberty, for that matter.

“Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens,” said Jesus, “and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

Jesus knew full well, of course, about all the things we either want, or desire, in this life.  But he loved us so much, that he chose not to give us what we wanted; but, instead, to give us what we so desperately needed.

That is, someone who could take away those heavy burdens that we are always carrying around with us on our shoulders.  Someone who could give us the kind of peace and rest that we are forever seeking, but never seem to find.  Someone who loves and accepts us for who we are, and then tells us that, no matter who we are, we are always welcome in his Father’s house.

Amen