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There's an old rock and roll song titled, "I Don't Need No Doctor." The song, like so many of the era, is a song of unrequited love. The lyric, screamed out by a number of rock bands over the years, says, "I don't need no doctor, 'cause I know what's ailing me." And what's ailing the singer, of course, is the deprivation of the object of his affection. He is smitten, out of control in the painful, bittersweet carnival ride of adolescent love. "I don't need no doctor, 'cause I know what's ailing me." I remember many years ago swaying to the sounds of this song at a very loud outdoor concert. But I must confess, I didn't think about the words very much. I don't think many of us did. I just wanted to feel the rhythm and dance to the music.

But now, in reading the Gospel of Matthew, this song returns to me. I even pulled out my scratched and faded vinyl LP by a British band named Humble Pie, and played through it a few times. Each time as I listened to the surging rock beat and the simplistic lyric, I couldn't help reflecting on this passage. Some of you may want to question this, I know. But as we read through the Gospel and hear Jesus responding to his critics, it's interesting to consider.

In this passage, Jesus is sitting, as he often does, with a host of marginalized and outcast people. We are not really certain who these people are. Scripture doesn't get too specific about their sins, except to name the tax collector Matthew. The others are simply "sinners." We can but guess at the list of wrongs committed by the others, but it seems clear that tax collectors were chief among sinners. I hope no one here works for the IRS.

The scene is spread out before us in a wonderful tableau. Jesus is at table sharing fellowship with these tax collectors and sinners. They are eating, drinking, talking, laughing, and sharing. As so often happens, critics line up to take pot shots. In this scene, however, they don't even try to confront Jesus directly. They approach his followers, trying to initiate a kind of smear campaign. "What does he think he's doing?" they ask. "Why is he sitting with them? Doesn't he know that they aren't the kind of people a self--respecting Messiah ought to be seen with?" The stage is set, once again, for the somewhat inept disciples to try to interpret the often--mystifying behavior of their Teacher.

After all, they are good Jews. They know the implication of sitting with a man who extorts taxes to support the occupation forces of Rome. And what about those other sinners? Let's take an educated guess. I'll bet there were some unclean and non--Jewish folks sitting with him that day. There may also have been a prostitute or two. And certainly he would have welcomed women to his table. It chills the soul of any good, pious Jew of the first century.

But Jesus is eavesdropping. Were you brought up to envision a Savior who eavesdrops? I wasn't.

But there he is, head cocked and listening in like Aunt Minnie through the bedroom door. He hears them and responds with a powerful sense of irony. "Those who are well have no need of a physician." One can almost envision the scene. These people are gathered, upright and pious, preening just a bit as they take in the words of Jesus. He is, they think, absolutely correct. "We don't need no doctor. They, on the other hand, need ... something. They're sick. Even Jesus says so...." But Jesus has a follow--up to his often--quoted retort, and cuts short their self--congratulations. He dismisses the good, pious religious folk, and tells them to go and figure out the meaning of these words: "I desire mercy and not sacrifice, for I have come to call, not the righteous, but sinners."

Remember that these are the people who truly believe that they "don't need no doctor." They are religious authorities. They are the Holy Ones who think they have it all down. These are the people who find Jesus troubling, even threatening because he is - to say the least - unorthodox. It is these people that Jesus flippantly sends back to school. "Go and learn what this means."

And it is here that the admittedly shallow lyric of the old rock song comes alive. It's an arrogant stance at best. "I don't need no doctor, for I know what's ailing me." I've got it together. I know what's going on. I have a problem, and you're it. In fact, if you'd only cooperate, there wouldn't be a problem. For the adolescent love--lorn pining for the object of his - or her - affection, it's a passing phase (we hope). But for the good, pious religious folk who cannot abide Jesus and his world--changing love, it is a mantra. For those who believe it is their calling to cement and codify religious belief into the bonds of creed and doctrine, it is a balm in Gilead. We don't need no doctor; we know what's going on here. We don't need no doctor; we only need you to fall in line. We don't need no doctor; we need all you who are different than we are to get lost. We don't need no doctor; we got a lock on God, on Holy Scripture, and on what's right and what's wrong, and you'd better listen.

The guardians of orthodoxy and right belief, both then and now, sing on in frightening harmony. "We don't need no doctor, for we know what's ailing us ... and it's you, Jesus, with your insistence on disobeying our rules. It's you with the company you keep; it's you with your cavalier attitude toward our laws." And the song continues today as the arbiters of religious correctness wail on: "We don't need no doctor, 'cause we know what's ailing us ... and it's you, gays and lesbians; it's you, tree huggers and environmental activists; it's you, human rights advocates; and it's you, who would open the doors of our faith to anyone who wants to come in...."

But Jesus, his eyes twinkling and his spirit soaring through the ages, sits at table with his friends, and sends those who think they are well back to school. "Go and learn what this means," says Jesus. "I desire mercy and not sacrifice." The Greek word for mercy here is elios, meaning kindness. "Go and learn what this means," says Jesus. "I desire kindness and not sacrifice. I desire kindness and not exclusion. I desire kindness and not narrow legalism. I desire kindness and not smug self--righteousness. I desire kindness and the willingness to open your hearts to all my children."

So it is that that old rock and roll lyric picks up the gospel and follows us today. "I don't need no doctor, 'cause I know what's ailing me." It shouts down the years to those who think they know. It pounds on the doors of our institutions and their need to control. It dances into our consciousness and calls us to question our own smugness and self--righteousness. And it pours over us with the power of God's Holy Spirit saying that, in truth, we don't need no doctor except Doctor Jesus.

And so let us all go back to school. Let each one, in the grace that God offers, learn anew that God desires kindness and not sacrifice. Let us come together across the chasms of our differences and build a gospel bridge of hope and understanding. Let us join together in ministry as we set a table where everyone, sinners of all stripes and colors, even tax collectors and pastors, deacons and bishops, are welcome. In Jesus' name. Amen.