Lectionary Reflection for Proper 9A on Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30
HITTING NOTES OR PLAYING MUSIC
For over forty years, I have enjoyed the immense privilege of playing with a vast array of instrumentalists: a drummer who had just begun his musical journey, but humbly followed my lead and gave himself wholeheartedly to the music; an accomplished organist who was offended by my slightly jazzy arrangements of traditional hymns; and more guitarists, bassists, pianists, and orchestral instrument players than I can count. But among all of these musicians, two stand out in particular.
Mary was a highly skilled pianist. When I worked in the church where she played, we often produced musical theatre productions, and no matter how complicated the piano part was, the moment she saw the sheet music, she could play it flawlessly. Yet somehow, for all her technical skills and her capacity to play every note exactly as it was written, her music always felt a little soulless. The notes were correct, the dynamics were in place, and the tempo was perfect. But somehow, it didn’t feel musical.
Charles, on the other hand, knew very little about music theory, was clueless about sheet music or chord charts, and had no interest in getting anything perfect.1 But put a guitar in his hands, and within seconds every eye in the room was moist, and every heart was quickened. Without any formal training, he had the capacity to draw the essential music from even a single note.
Mary knew how to hit the notes correctly and to follow the rules, which she had learned by heart. But she didn’t really play music. Charles made mistakes and constantly broke the rules about which he knew nothing. But what flowed from his fingers was the very definition of music.
I enjoyed making music with both of these musicians. They were both wonderful people. And they always come to mind when I read Jesus’ words in the Lectionary reading for Proper 9A from Matthew 11:16–19, 25–30.
THE LAW OF THE HEART
After sending his twelve apostles out to preach and demonstrate his message of the reign of God, Jesus did some travelling and preaching of his own. Word of his ministry reached John the Baptiser, who had been imprisoned for speaking out against King Herod. Clearly, something about Jesus caught John by surprise, and so he sent messengers to ask Jesus if he was the expected one. Jesus’ reply highlighted what he had been doing, using similar images of Jubilee as Luke does in 4:18–19 (quoting Isaiah 61:1–2 and 58:6).2
Then, after declaring that “of all who have ever lived, none is greater than John the Baptist” (Matt. 11:11), Jesus highlighted the inconsistencies in the criticisms levelled at himself and John. John lived an ascetic, pure life, and was accused of being demonised. Jesus connected with people and enjoyed sharing meals, and he was accused of being a drunkard, a glutton, and a friend of sinners. But at the heart of his challenge to his detractors was this parabolic image of children complaining because their friends didn’t play their musical games correctly.
“This generation” (11:16) did not refer to the crowds to whom Jesus was preaching, but to the religious and political leaders who sought to use the Law to control and shame others. And these critics of John and Jesus, it seems, were “dissatisfied with any nonconformity to [their] desired dispositions—be it John’s rejection of joviality or Jesus’ lack of lament”.3
These people, who had spent their lives learning the rules and trying to follow them to the letter, knew how to hit the notes, but their lives had no music. They could not tolerate anyone refusing to dance or mourn to their tune, but their tune was lifeless and soul-destroying.4 Jesus, on the other hand, was like “a gifted musician walking around among people who can only just manage to sing in tune”.5
It wasn’t that he had no regard for the law—he strongly emphasised that he had come not to abolish the Law but to fulfil it (Matt. 5:17–18). It was that he knew that the Law was never meant to be an end in itself. It was a means to the end of a life of love and justice, connection, contribution, and creativity, in the same way that music theory without the actual music is meaningless. The law was not about the notes or the rules; it was about the music. It wasn’t about the head alone, but about the heart and the life that flowed from it.
It’s easier to make life and faith about the rules. It’s easier to get laws into the head, to check the rules off on a list, and to keep everything ordered, clean, and simple. It’s easy to make the Law about technicalities. But Jesus was calling for people to allow the law to become what it was meant to be—a song to sing and improvise around, a rhythm to dance to, and see where it leads, an indication of the notes that lead us into the magic of the music.
This is how Jesus fulfilled the law. He moved it beyond technicalities, beyond the head alone, beyond checklists, and turned it into a doorway to life, an invitation to encounter God, and a completely alternative way of being that liberates and celebrates and welcomes. The law, for Jesus, was not so much about controlling and punishing wrong as it was about strengthening our innate capacity to do what is right—to bring life. It’s about going beyond the steps and losing ourselves in the collective, cosmic dance of the divine.
LIKE CHILDREN
This is why Jesus declared that his message was hidden to those who refuse to lose themselves, those who are too grown up to release technicalities (11:25–26). This is why it is always children who see it, because they haven’t become bogged down by rules yet. They are still moved by the music, and they can’t help but lose themselves in the rhythms. For children, there is joy in feeling the body and the soul moving in new ways, there is wonder and awe, play and energy in the dance, and the steps are just the way to get there.
