Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26
Yesterday, my family attended the annual Pride celebration in Hull. Hull is an interestingly diverse community that has learned to accept lots of different people. Like other places, there are those who only appreciate people of a certain race, religion, or sexual identity, but somehow, it works.
June has become known as Pride Month. For some, that name immediately evokes celebration. For others, it evokes controversy. For still others, it raises questions about what place Pride has in the life of the Church.
But before we speak about Pride, we should speak about something even more fundamental: the astonishing diversity of God’s creation.
I know diversity is not something we are supposed to talk about or celebrate, but Scripture is full of diversity and acceptance. The opening chapters of Genesis tell us that God looked upon creation and declared it good. Not uniform. Not identical. Not monochrome. Good.
God creates oceans and deserts, mountains and valleys. God creates countless species of plants and animals. No two fingerprints are alike. No two snowflakes are identical. Diversity is woven into creation itself. Difference is not a flaw in God’s design. Difference is part of God’s design.
And if that is true of creation, it is certainly true of humanity.
Every person bears the image of God. Every person. Not some. Not most. All.
The challenge for the Church has often been that we prefer sameness to diversity. We find comfort in people who look like us, think like us, worship like us, vote like us, and live like us. But the Gospel consistently disrupts our desire for sameness and calls us into a larger vision of God’s Kingdom.
That larger vision appears throughout Scripture, but nowhere more clearly than in today’s Gospel.
Jesus walks by and sees Matthew sitting at the tax booth. Now we hear that story so often that we miss how shocking it would have been.
Matthew was not merely disliked. He was considered a collaborator with an occupying empire. He represented everything faithful religious people were supposed to avoid. Yet Jesus sees him.
Not his label. Not his reputation. Not the assumptions others had made about him. Jesus sees a child of God. And Jesus says simply, “Follow me.”
Then Jesus goes further. He sits at the table with tax collectors and sinners. The religious authorities are scandalized. Why? Because Jesus is crossing boundaries. He is refusing to divide the world into insiders and outsiders. He is refusing to create categories of people who are beyond God’s grace.
And when challenged, Jesus responds: “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.” Mercy. Not exclusion. Mercy. Not gatekeeping. Mercy. Not fear.
The ministry of Jesus is one long story of expanding the circle. Again and again, Jesus moves toward those whom society has pushed aside. Again and again, he reminds us that the Kingdom of God is bigger than our prejudices. That is one reason Pride Month matters—not only for LGBTQ people but for all people.
Pride Month invites us to celebrate the sacred truth that every human being possesses inherent dignity. It reminds us that diversity is not something to tolerate. It is something to celebrate. Not because diversity itself saves us. Christ saves us. But because diversity reveals something beautiful about the God who created us.
If we want to understand diversity, perhaps the best place to begin is not with society at all. Perhaps we should begin with the Trinity.
Our faith proclaims one God in three Persons: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Unity without uniformity. Distinctiveness without division. Difference without hierarchy. Perfect communion.
The Father is not the Son. The Son is not the Spirit. The Spirit is not the Father. Yet they remain one. At the very heart of reality is relationship. At the very heart of God is holy diversity. The Trinity teaches us that unity does not require sameness. In fact, true unity often depends upon difference.
Our modern world frequently confuses unity with conformity. We imagine peace comes when everyone becomes alike. But God reveals another way.
The Trinity shows us that difference can strengthen communion rather than weaken it. Difference can deepen love. Difference can enrich the community. Difference can reveal new dimensions of truth.
The same pattern appears in the calling of the Apostles. Think about that group for a moment. Matthew the tax collector. Simon the Zealot, who likely opposed Roman rule. Fishermen. Laborers. Ordinary people. People with different experiences, backgrounds, personalities, and political viewpoints.
If Jesus were building an organization according to modern management principles, this would seem like a terrible plan. These people should not have worked together. Yet Jesus called them all.
Not because they were alike. But because they were needed. The Kingdom required every one of them. Their differences became strengths. Their varied gifts became instruments of God’s mission. The Church has always been strongest when it embraces this truth.
Saint Paul understood this when he wrote that the Body of Christ has many members. The eye cannot say to the hand, “I have no need of you.” The foot cannot say to the ear, “You do not belong.” Every member matters. Every gift matters. Every voice matters.
Perhaps nowhere is this truth displayed more dramatically than at Pentecost.
Today we stand in the season of Pentecost. The Holy Spirit descends upon the disciples. Tongues of fire appear. And then something remarkable happens. The disciples begin speaking in many languages.
Notice what God does not do. God does not erase linguistic differences. God does not force everyone into one language. God does not demand cultural conformity. Instead, the Spirit speaks through diversity.
People hear the Gospel in their own language. Their own culture. Their own experience. Pentecost is not the destruction of diversity. Pentecost is the sanctification of diversity.
It is God’s declaration that every language, every culture, and every people have a place in the unfolding story of redemption.
If Pentecost teaches us that diversity is holy, the Incarnation teaches us that humanity itself is holy. The eternal Word became flesh. Not an abstraction. Not an idea. Flesh. Human flesh. God entered fully into the human experience. Jesus laughed. Jesus wept. Jesus felt hunger and fatigue. Jesus knew friendship and loss.
In the Incarnation, God embraces humanity in all its complexity. The Incarnation tells us that our bodies matter. Our lives matter. Our stories matter. Our identities matter. Because God chose to dwell among us.
This is why Pride Month can be understood not merely as a celebration of one community but as a broader reminder of human dignity. Pride has particular significance for LGBTQ people whose histories have often been marked by exclusion, rejection, violence, and misunderstanding.
That history should matter to Christians. Because Christians are called to stand wherever human dignity is threatened. Christians are called to defend the image of God wherever it appears. Christians are called to love as Christ loved.
But Pride also reminds all of us that God’s Kingdom is wide enough to embrace human diversity in all its forms. Different races. Different cultures. Different backgrounds. Different abilities. Different experiences. Different stories.
The Church is strongest when everyone knows they belong. Not because we agree about everything. But because we recognize Christ in one another.
The great temptation of every age is fear. Fear of difference. Fear of change. Fear of those we do not understand. Yet Scripture repeatedly tells us: “Do not be afraid.”
The opposite of fear is not certainty. The opposite of fear is love. And perfect love casts out fear.
The Gospel invites us to move beyond fear and toward relationship. Beyond suspicion and toward understanding. Beyond exclusion and toward hospitality.
That is what Jesus did. He crossed boundaries. He sat at unexpected tables. He touched those considered untouchable. He restored those whom society had cast aside. He widened the circle. And he calls us to do the same.
So this June, as conversations about Pride unfold around us, the Church has an opportunity. An opportunity not merely to take a position, but to bear witness. To bear witness to a God whose very nature is relational. To bear witness to a Savior who welcomed outsiders. To bear witness to a Spirit who speaks through diversity. To bear witness to the truth that every person is created in the image and likeness of God.
And to proclaim that diversity is not a weakness to fear but a gift to embrace.
For when we learn to see one another as God sees us, we begin to glimpse the Kingdom: a Kingdom where every tribe and nation gather together, where differences are not erased but redeemed, where all are welcomed at the table of grace, and where life reflects the very God who made us.
May we have the courage to build that Kingdom here and now, and to live as witnesses to its welcome.
Amen.
