Silence and Sunsets

Silence.

It’s a word that stirs up many different and conflicting emotions when a person considers its effect.

For a preschool teacher after a long day of teaching three and four year olds, silence might be significantly attractive.

For an elderly widow, silence can be a haunting reminder of the fact that she is alone.

For a child suffering from frequent abuse, silence can be a toxic ingredient of his or her innocent life.

At the Troy Wesley Foundation, which is my “church away from church”, we are studying Revelation on Wednesday nights at our weekly worship service.

This past week in our study, we read in chapter eight about heaven being silent for half an hour.

I had to really think about and soak in that concept for a while.

Silence in heaven. What did that really mean? Can we even imagine what that must be like?

I’m pretty sure there’s no way we can possibly grasp true silence like the silence John of Patmos talks about in Revelation.

At the end of our study, we received a challenge for the coming week. We were to find two twenty minute periods of time throughout the week to be silent. Several people asked questions like…”Does that mean no computer?” “Does that mean just being quiet, or does it mean not listening to music or anything??” “Can I do yoga during my silent time?”

But the point was to spend the time doing absolutely nothing, and get as close to the heavenly silence we read about in Revelation. I have to be honest, at first I kind of balked at the idea of finding 40 minutes in my own hectic schedule to simply “sit and do nothing…” It’s very much against my nature to not be doing something! As a matter of fact, I was a little bit afraid of what being silent could mean for me. I love noise, both literally and figuratively. By being alone and quiet, I am forced to deal with things in my mind that the busyness of my life helps me be distracted from for the most part! Things like the stress of schoolwork and its toll on my life, both spiritually and mentally. Or perhaps I might be forced to focus on the strained relationship that I have with my sister.
Those are definitely things I’d rather “ostrich”, or stick my head in the sand and pretend don’t exist!
So, needless to say, we received quite the challenge. Especially in this technological society that is chock full of I-pods, televisions, computers, and radios.

I’m here to tell you, there’s not a whole lot of opportunity to find a quiet space in a college atmosphere! A person would have to be extremely deliberate about finding a place to be in “silence” around Troy, Alabama.

As I began to prepare for this sermon, I read about a man who went into a “soundproof” music room at his university to experience silence.

He said that when he entered the room, there was no noise, but that the longer he was in the room, he began to hear a high pitched noise which he attributed to his breathing, and another thumping noise which he recognized as the sound of his own heart beating. This man had gone to a place where he expected total silence, and yet he still heard sound.

In 1952, this same man by the name of John Cage composed a three movement composition entitled 4 minutes and 33 seconds. It was composed for any instrument (or combination of instruments), and the score instructs the performer not to play the instrument during the entire duration of the piece. Although commonly perceived as "four minutes thirty-three seconds of silence", the piece actually consists of the sounds of the environment that the listeners hear while it is performed.

I watched a video of a performance of this piece, and the orchestra sat there with their instruments in their laps, the conductor with his hands in the air, and the “music” that was heard was not actual notes being played by instruments, but instead the “music” was the occasional cough or sneeze in the audience, the flipping of the musicians pages, and the scraping of chairs along the floor as the musicians adjusted or fidgeted in their seats.
It was those sounds, unpredictable and unintentional, that were to be regarded as constituting the music in this piece.

From the text today, in verse 35, it says, “In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed.”

My guess is that Jesus was seeking a little “silence”. Jesus knew the importance of finding a time that he could go and be alone in a deserted place where he could gather his thoughts and find a little time to just “chill” with his father, God.

As I drove home from Troy this weekend, I contemplated my task for the week to find silence and what it really means to find “silence” in this lifetime. I decided that this could be the perfect opportunity to be “silent” for me, because the closest I could come to silence while driving down the road was to turn off my radio and put my phone on vibrate. So I did just that. I felt kind of like a cheater, but I figured this was at least a baby step towards total silence. I have to be quite honest; it was one of the most awkward experiences of my life. I realized that I don’t even know how to turn my radio off completely, so I just turned the volume down enough that I couldn’t hear it.
As I drove, I caught myself constantly reaching for the volume knob on my radio and stopping myself midway when I remembered there was a reason I wasn’t hearing the music.

Slowly, on my trip home, something strange started to happen. The further I drove in “silence”, I, like John Cage, realized that the music was not the noise my radio perpetually emits, but that the music consists of the sounds of life that I rarely take the time to notice.

I began to hear every little noise my little Geo car made as it rattled and bumped along the road.

I began to look at houses and really notice them for the first time, after having driven by them hundreds and hundreds of times on my way to and from Troy.

I began to think about the people that live in those different houses and what they might be like.

I looked at the sunset that lay before me and embraced its beauty and grandeur.

I believe God made sunsets for everyone to enjoy, but I was particularly impressed with this one because of all the brilliant colors of pink it contained! Pink is my favorite color, and I was amazed at the vividness of the different shades of pink, orange, and purple this sunset had.

I knew at that moment that for me, silence was more than an absence of noise or talking, it was a state of being aware of the overwhelming presence of God.

As I gazed at the sunset and the trees that I passed and noticed the creatures along the side of the road I was sensitive to the incredible creativity of our Creator God.

As I continued to drive, I found myself feeling lost in the sense of community I was experiencing with nature and with God.

I imagine that feeling of intimacy with God was similar to what Jesus was seeking as he went out in the early morning hours to spend some time in prayer; I believe he was seeking an intentional state of being aware of God’s presence.

My question for us today is how often do we deliberately seek the opportunity in our busy lives to find a quiet moment to spend alone with God?

We have lots of “noise” in our lives with our families, our jobs, our friendships, and even our work with the church.

But I believe, by evidence of Jesus’ example to us in this text, that we are called to seek a little “silence” every once in a while to just “be”… in the presence of God.
What does it mean for us to simply be?

It means coming…baggage and all…straight to the presence of God and allowing God to envelop us in God’s presence to let us have an opportunity to “recharge” after a metaphorical “long day”.

I encourage you over the course of the next week or so to find some time to do that.

I challenge you to spend time enjoying and basking in the presence of the God that created you and me.

Whether that means turning your radio off, or turning the news off during your morning cup of coffee, or taking a long walk without your I-pod, I urge you to find some way to find God in your everyday, mundane “drive home”.

In the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

the Gospel of the second chance, of a third chance, of the hundredth chance

In Chapter one of Jonah, Jonah is instructed by God to go to Nineveh and tell them that God is displeased with their wickedness.

As most of us know, Jonah decides to do exactly the opposite of that, and instead buys a ticket on the first boat out of Joppa to get as far away from God’s directions as he can.

Why did he do that? Maybe he was afraid? Or it may have been for some more nationalistic reason. Nineveh was an important city in the Assyrian Empire, possibly its capital, and at the time of Jeroboam the second Israel was prospering and the only real threat was the Assyrian Empire.

Jonah may have thought that by not preaching to Nineveh, God would be forced to seek justice for Israel and destroy the city, thus lessening the Assyrian threat to his people.

Whatever Jonah’s reason was, he ran. But when a prophetic call comes to a person, it involves a commission which cannot be avoided.


As most of us know, Jonah was on a boat, which was caught in a very bad storm, and his shipmates threw him into the sea to calm the storm. Once Jonah was thrown overboard, he is swallowed up by a big fish. After spending several days in the belly of the fish, stubborn ole Jonah decides it might be a good time to seek God. Jonah prays to God and promises that if God will deliver him from the belly of the fish, Jonah in turn will do what God has asked him to do.

God responded to Jonah's prayer of repentance, and the Bible tells us that he was vomited up onto dry land. Jonah was delivered from the mouth of the fish, brought up out of the water in an almost baptismal-like experience. We aren't told exactly where Jonah was vomited up, but what we do know is that he started off in Jerusalem. Jerusalem is about 500 miles from Nineveh. That would be a substantial journey today, but when he would have been traveling on foot or on an animal it would have taken a very long time. Certainly weeks.

So, God tries again with Jonah. What a word of grace and challenge all rolled into one! "Then the word of the Lord came to Jonah a second time, 'Arise, go to Nineveh . . .'"

Were there ever any kinder words written anywhere? "And the word of the Lord came to Jonah a second time."

Notice that God never lets up and never gives up on Jonah. Grace and challenge, forgiveness and responsibility are intertwined.

Jonah gets the message, and he does as he is told this time. He sets out on the three day journey to Nineveh.
Wait a minute, three day journey? It's a bit closer than 500 miles away isn't it?
So even though he was trying to run from Nineveh, Jonah ended up closer to Nineveh than he had been when he started. God wanted Jonah to go to Nineveh, and when he resisted he ended up closer than when he started. God worked with the disobedient Jonah, and Jonah's call to preach in Nineveh was as much for Jonah's sake as for the people of Nineveh.

For the first time on his journey, Jonah is willingly on his way to Nineveh.
Jonah walked into the city as far as he could go in one day. Then he preached a five word sermon. Forty--days--more--Nineveh--destroyed.

Now, let’s take a look back at chapter one of Jonah and read again the message that God gave to Jonah to deliver to Nineveh. Chapter one, verse 2 says “Go at once to Nineveh, that great city, and cry out against it; for their wickedness has come up before me.”

I don’t read anything there about God destroying Nineveh in forty days if they didn’t repent from their wickedness…It sounds to me like Jonah took God’s words and twisted them around a little bit in his own wishful thinking.

Jonah had an incredible response to his preaching. The entire city repented. Everyone, including the King of Nineveh responded and a fast was declared. The king declared a fast across the land, which included every person and animal. No one could eat or drink, but they were to be covered in sackcloth and ordered to cry mightily unto God, and “…who knows? God may decide to spare them and let them not perish…”

But I'll tell you who knew...Jonah knew. Jonah knew that if God was merciful enough to give him, a sinner, a second chance, that God would indeed spare this sinful nation. Jonah knew that the God of his people, the God that had spared Israel on multiple occasions, was big enough, and gracious enough to spare even the city of his enemies…Nineveh.

On New Year's Day, 1929, Georgia Tech played the University of California in the Rose Bowl. During the first half of the game a player by the name of Roy Riegels recovered a fumble for California on his own thirty-five yard line. In evading some of the Georgia Tech tacklers, Riegels became confused. He started running sixty-five yards in the wrong direction. One of his teammates, Benny Lom, outran him and tackled him on the one yard line just before Riegels was about to score for Georgia Tech. Then, on the next play, when California attempted to punt out of its end zone, Tech blocked the kick and scored a safety, which was the ultimate margin of victory.
That strange play came near the end of the first half. Everyone watching the game was asking the same question: "What will coach Nibbs Price do with Roy Riegels in the second half?" The players filed off the field and trudged into the dressing room. They sat down on the benches and on the floor. All but Riegels. He pulled his blanket around his shoulders, and sat down in a corner, put his face in his hands, and wept like a baby.

A coach usually has a great deal to say to his team during half-time. That afternoon coach Price was quiet. No doubt he was trying to decide what to do with Riegels. Then the timekeeper came in and announced that there were three minutes before playing time. Coach Price looked at the team and said simply, "Men, the same team that started the first half will start the second."
The players got up and started out. All but Roy Riegels. He didn't budge. The coach looked back and called to him again. Still Riegels didn't move. Coach Price walked over to Riegels and said, "Roy, didn't you hear me? The same team that started the first half will start the second." Roy Riegels looked up and his cheeks were wet with tears.
"Coach," he said, "I can't do it. I've disgraced you. I've disgraced the University of California. I've disgraced myself. I couldn't face that crowd to save my life."
Then Coach Nibbs Price put his hand on Riegels shoulder and said, "Roy, get up and go on back. The game is only half over."
Roy Riegels did go back, and those Tech players testified that they had seldom seen a man play as Roy Riegels did in that second half.

When I read that story, deep inside I said, "What a coach!" When I read the stories of Peter and Jonah and the stories of a thousand men and women like them, I say, "What a God!"

We take the ball and we run in the wrong direction. We stumble and fall. We're so ashamed of ourselves that we never want to try again. And God comes and in the person of Jesus Christ puts a nail-printed hand on our shoulder and says, "Get up; go on back. The game is only half over."

That's the good news of the grace of God. That's the good news of the forgiveness of sins. That's the Gospel of the second chance, of a third chance, of the hundredth chance.

I’d like to challenge you with a quote from Rabbi David Saperstein:

“If God does not love everybody, then there can be no love for anybody. If God is not gracious toward all, there can be grace for none.”

Amen.

Hear this benediction:

Go, secure in the steadfast love of God
rejoicing in the call of Jesus Christ
strong in the power of the Holy Spirit.

Matthew 21:23-32

so, today at 4 i preached this sermon at CHURCH. i figured i would post it. as a disclaimer, i'd like to mention that throughout the week i had a few ideas that i wanted to express in my sermon today (though thankfully i had not written it out) and many of those thoughts were in father jeff's sermon at st. mark's episcopal church. due to this, i shifted gears and wrote something rather different in regards to the text. i don't know if many would interpret it from this perspective, so be forewarned that it may seem a little strange.

----

After looking at today's gospel text, I think plenty of people have the tendency to use this to attack the chief priests and elders. While I think this exchange between them and Jesus does leave a sting, or maybe warrants someone saying "BURN" at the end of it, we have to remember that in reading it, we should humble ourselves so as not to believe we are above the chief priests and elders in our understanding of God. (Note: "Burn" in the "you just got told" way, not as a way of saying "burn in hell." The inflection of my voice made this obvious, but to a reader, it may not be.)

Jesus asks the chief priests and elders a stumper, a question that leaves them arguing for an answer. The question Jesus asks is, "Did the baptism of John come from heaven, or was it of human origin?" They argue, noting, "If we say 'from heaven' he will say to us, 'why then did you not believe him?' but if we say 'of human origin' we are afraid of the crowd; for they all regard John as a prophet." So, they answered Jesus, "We do not know."

This exchange is important. When put in a tricky situation, the chief priests and elders don't want to be wrong, so they argue. They try their best to come up with an answer that proves everyone wrong and themselves right, but see flaws in all of their arguments. Finally, in what had to be incredibly humbling to the chief priests and elders, they answer: "We do not know."

I think we can learn a lot from the chief priests and elders, a lesson in reminding us of how we often handle problems ourselves. We disagree with other people in the Body of Christ and so we argue. We try to come up with a way to be right, and prove others wrong. Sometimes we find flaws in our arguments, so maybe we proof-text to make our opinions more "right." Or, maybe we want to say something, but are afraid of the crowd. Maybe the crowd regards one view correctly, so in fear, we hold our tongue. We may even hold our tongue when it comes to something serious. Maybe when we have the opportunity to fight against social injustice, we look to the crowd and see that they have a different agenda. So we stay silent.

But then, we have to come to one realization. After all of our banter, our arguing, our searching, and our fighting for our huge desire to be right, one thing hits us -- "We do not know." We have to say it. We do not know. There are plenty of times we are asked spiritual questions that are a mystery. We even proclaim and celebrate the mystery of faith. Why then to we often push mystery away in search of answers? We seek to be above others in our understanding of things, creating our own sort of intellectual hierarchy. I believe we are all guilty of that.

Though it probably isn't the most preached message on this text, I would encourage you to think of how often you are a chief priest or elder. I've certainly relaized how often I play that role and arrogantly put myself into theological exchanges that I pray result in me being right and my adversary being wrong. It is a sad state that humanity is in, with it's dislike for humility. It was present in the attitudes of the chief priests and elders, and still exists today in myself and others.

And how does Jesus respond to this attitude? He reminds us that the tax collectors and prostitutes are going into the kingdom of God ahead of those with that attitude. Maybe we are not rewarded for the theological debates we win, but the times in which we humble ourselves before God and finally, and plainly say, "We do not know."

Matthew 20.1-16

The Rev. Ashley Davis
Pentecost 19+, A
21 September 2008
Matthew 20.1-16

Ok kids, its story time with Jesus again. Not those nice little stories your parents told you before bed. Nope these are parables, they all have some deeply disturbing element to them. I mean they aren’t like camp fire stories that scare the crap out of you. But…they all make you think really hard about yourself and about God with the hopes of turning the world upside-down, but they don’t always illustrate some “logical” point. Maybe that’s why Jesus is my homeboy, screw logic.

So…our parable starts out with a nice simile…the kingdom of heaven is like a land owner. The kingdom of heaven here does not mean “going to heaven.” The kingdom of heaven is the kingdom of God. We see, as in many other place in Matthew, a head on collision of collider proportion with God’s world and our world, and a time to chose which world you live in here and now. So again, the kingdom of heaven is compared to a landowner. How the heck do you compare a sort of place or kind of living with a person?

Moving on, this landowner goes out early in the morning in the traditional way to find workers for the vineyard. He selects a few of the best looking workers. We would assume the strongest looking people with the most experience and skills. They make an oral agreement to work for him for a days wage or a denarius. This denarius a day would barely sustain a family. The landowner goes out again at 9 o’clock and gets more workers. He says simply that he will pay them, “whatever is right.” The question what is right is raised, but no answer is given. Amazingly, they trust his sense of justice and work for him without really knowing what they will get paid. This all happened again at 12 and 3 and 5. In the closing scenes, all the middle groups mysteriously vanish, and we are left to deal with only the first and the last. The foremen is told to pay the last ones first and then pay the rest. Apparently, it was intended that those chosen first would see what the others were paid? Of course, those who were hired first assume that fairness demands that they will receive more.

To Jesus’s original audience, as this scene began they could definitely identify with what was going on. Jesus didn’t say the kingdom of heaven is like a meeting of the Sanhedrin, he said the kingdom of heaven is like something that takes place every day as people try to get paid for working in a grape field. Everywhere people looked, there were freaking grape fields, not that I was there. He had them hooked, but as the story went on I am assuming his original audience became disconcerted. Why did the rich landowner go out again and again to the market place? Some translations call this guy a farmer. I don’t care what the Greek says, he is not a farmer, no farmer spends that much time not at the farm. He’s more add than sams with a paint brush. He isn’t picking anything but people. Why didn’t he send his manager to the market place? Why didn’t he get enough workers in the first couple of trips? The people who slept in still got a full days pay. I thought the early bird got the worm. The original audience had to have been outraged alongside those picked first, they too would have seen that equal pay for equal work was only fair.

What do we do with all this? How can we relate to this story? For some of us who stood by day workers in Gaithersburg, Maryland, as they tried to find jobs to feed their families, there is a definitely way in which we can relate to this story. Maybe you think back to playing kickball in school (ok I know I’m really old) and being chosen for teams. For any job or graduate school, we all stand in metaphorical lines waiting to be chosen. While some of us have had the experience of being around most of the day without being chosen, many more people in this room have been chosen first most of their lives. Whether it is because we have good genes, come from the right family, look the part, whatever. We can relate to wanting things to be fair too. We are taught from a very young age to play fair.

Will Willimon, bishop of the North Alabama conference, retold this parable in a way similar to this that maybe you all will be able to relate to even more. Let’s say each of you is in a difficult math class, but the teacher says she wants all of you to receive an a and your are like ha. You are given a particularly hard problem that you are supposed to work on all semester for you final grade. Half way through the semester, a few students, have been working this whole time pretty diligently on the problem. In saga one day, another student in the class walks up to you and says hey do you have that question I need to start on it. You are like, omg, I’ve been working on that for like two months now he will never make it. You give him the question anyway and are like good luck. You continue to work through the rest of the semester. The night before the test, another classmate calls you and asks for the questions, you just laugh at this poor girl and give her the question anyway. The next day you turn in your problem, and the teacher says great job, you get an a. You wait around to see what happens, the person who started in the middle of the semester gets an a too and then thanks the teacher for all the times she stayed after class to help him. The person who called you the night before the test comes up, and to your surprise gets an a as well and apologizes to the teacher for her roommate cursing her out in the middle of the night when she showed up at the dorm because they had never had a teacher come to their dorm room before to help with homework. Of course you are enraged, and tell the teacher that isn’t fair, I didn’t get any help. She says I told you I wanted everyone to get a’s, you didn’t need the help.

So now that you can relate, what are you supposed to get out of the enigma?

The Kingdom of heaven is like a landowner…If it can possible be and it must be Jesus says so, then the kingdom of heaven must be about bringing everyone into the vineyard. I know you are shocked but this parable is about inclusivity. Everyone gets to come in. Those who get up early and work hard, those who party hard and sleep through the alarm clock, those who seem to have no skills, who others would call lazy when maybe it is just that no one has hired them, who are still hanging around at 5 o’clock smoking cigarettes they can’t afford only because they don’t want to go home to explain to their significant other that they didn’t get work again today. The kingdom of heaven is a place where everyone is given what they need, not what they want, not what they think is fair in comparison to the person beside them, but what they need.

We talk a lot about helping to bring in the kingdom of heaven. We talk a lot about inclusivity. We still have a ways to go. We ought to be out of this building so much seeking other people to bring into the kingdom that people don’t think we are members of the Wesley at all. In bringing in the kingdom, we have to work to alleviate the needs of those in our community. Sure we attempt to build wheelchair ramps, but there are people right here among us who have needs that we have not ministered to. Some need a kind word, a hug, or just someone to listen to them.

So that we don’t get too down on ourselves, we are not God, we are merely participants in helping to bring about God’s kingdom. In the end, it really makes the most sense to see this landowner as God. This picture of God is one of a very hands on God, not sending someone else out, but God going out to find us. Each and everyone one of us (I mean there is still free will, some could have not come to the market place, some could have gone home). God is merciful and full of grace, making sure that each of us have not what we deserve but what we need.

Often times we are the first chosen, we work long and hard, and are resentful of the grace given to those who have not worked as hard as us. Was our being chosen first fair in the first place? Wasn’t there grace in that? More times than not we need to realize that we are all really more like the last chosen stragglers. We don’t really have the skills or the body type that people are looking for, maybe we have a ridiculous amount of hope. Or maybe we are just hanging out for all the wrong reasons. God still chooses us to be workers and sees to our daily needs.

The story of the good employer gives us a good picture of the resentment of grace given to others by those who have worked long and hard themselves. We need to begin to realize that our whole lives are a gracious gift from God. Our work is our thankful response to our creator’s wonderful love. It is our sideways competitive glance that is killing us. We reject grace as we try to justify ourselves. Let us remember God’s gracious acts in this time of communion and beyond. With thankful hearts let us work for God’s kingdom, making sure that all are without need. Amen.

Matthew 18.21-35

Anna Tew
Pentecost 18+, A
14 September 2008
Matthew 18.21-35

Apparently, we are supposed to forgive each other.

It often seems to me that we are vindictive from childhood. Now, I want to say that it is a learned behavior to always want retribution. When I was a child, for example, I’d often complain to my dad that my brother hit me, and the response would come quickly: “Well, don’t be a wuss, hit him back.” Still, these behaviors are not always learned in children either. I doubt that most of us were taught to hit the other children on the playground back, or to go and tattle immediately when someone stole our cookie. It seems almost inherent in us: we want justice when we are wronged.

As some of you know, I did my senior thesis last year on the subject of hell. Now, whatever your theological opinions on the reality (or nonreality) of hell, I found that most peoples throughout history started with a view of the afterlife that did not include punishments for the wicked or rewards for the good. Remember the Disney cartoon, Hercules? In that cartoon there is a depiction of Hades’ underworld realm. Everyone goes there – good and bad alike – to spin in a little pool of souls. The Hebrew sheol, or grave, is much the same way. Everyone goes there when they die. After awhile, however, views of the afterlife begin to change. People can’t seem to take the notion that everyone will end up in the same place, especially when bad people on earth are not always punished. So, slowly, our philosophies about what happens after death evolve to form punishments and rewards.

In short, we want justice. People need to learn a lesson or two.

I’m kind of the same way. I mean, I don’t really want people to go to hell in any sense. But I can be pretty vindictive. I spend most mornings in Atlanta on a shuttle that runs from North Dekalb mall, near my apartment, to Emory University, where I attend seminary. There are mornings when it’s far far too early and I have a headache for whatever reason and my hair is doing all kinds of fun things and I’m being bounced mercilessly around this bus, trying to keep my coffee from spilling because if it spills I will surely die. Inevitably, there is some person standing close to me who is either, A) being really loud, B) has a huge bag and is hitting me with it, C) is stepping on my toes, or D) all of the above. And I’m usually sitting there trying to find a way to shove them out at the next stop without anyone noticing that they did not want to get off there.

Yes. There are times when we will get highly irritated with people, both those we know and those we don’t know. Sometimes, your roommate will have loud people over really late at night when you have a test the next day. Sometimes people will step on my toes on the bus. Sometimes the campus police will deem it necessary to block off a pretty important road on game day and create a huge… mess … that you have to help clean up. You want to go off on somebody. We want to yell at the next cop we see. I want to shove people off buses. You want to put ex-lax in your roommate’s soup when she leaves it on the stove.

And you know, it’s not all that hard to control most of those urges. You might speak your mind, but you’re not actually going to alter the chemical makeup of anyone’s soup so that it will have adverse effects on his or her digestive tract.

Sometimes offenses are more serious. Sometimes you are hurt, betrayed, or manipulated emotionally. Sometimes it’s a combination of all of those things. There are times when someone you trusted – a friend, a romantic partner, a parent – causes you immense pain that it takes years to erase. And it is perfectly natural to react in a number of ways. It’s natural to go through a cycle of reactions. Sometimes you’re just broken. Other times you deny that it happened. And sometimes you’re incredibly angry and you want justice.

But Jesus is smarter than that. Jesus has a better way.

Jesus knows that revenge only causes more pain. Jesus knows that to carry a grudge is to always be hurt. Jesus knows that you can give more to your immediate community and to the world if you can just let go.

And you know, Jesus also knows about your debt. It seems that Jesus knows that forgiveness is a difficult issue for us. So he breaks it down. He tells a story. In the story, there is a servant who owes a lot of money. Okay, a lot is an understatement. Basically, dude has borrowed money from his master for something like a few fleets of BMWs. Or twenty or so large condos in Los Angeles. Or both. I mean, Jesus uses an outrageous amount of money. Anyway, his master is ready to do away with the guy and sell him and his family into slavery because there is no way any of them is going to live long enough to see this debt paid off. But the servant begs and pleads with his master. Give me time! I’ll pay everything. Now, the master knows that that is impossible. But Jesus says that the master took pity on him. He lets him go. Jesus simply says that he canceled the debt.

Now, I’m going to use my supreme sense of allegory to say that this first servant is, you know, us. None of us can even begin to pay back God for all that God has done for us. Nor can we make it up to God for all the stupid things we’ve done in God’s sight. Nor can we do enough to make up for everything left undone because of opportunities we’ve lost. Jesus knows that. But he canceled the debt.

In the same way, we’ve all been forgiven by people for doing dumb things. We’ve hurt and betrayed and manipulated people, too. But many of those debts have also been canceled. So the good news about this forgiveness thing is that it’s a two way street. Jesus didn’t simply say “forgive” without reminding us that we too have been forgiven. Jesus says to forgive because we’ve been forgiven.

On Tuesday, I attended chapel at Candler, and the man who preached on this text there brought up an important point besides these obvious ones that I have mentioned. What are we supposed to tell those people in our churches and communities who are repeatedly hurt by someone? What re you supposed to tell the child that is repeatedly sexually abused by a family member? What are you to tell the guy or girl in your class who keeps going back to an emotionally manipulative romantic partner? What are you supposed to tell the battered spouse to do about his or her abusive partner? What do you tell those who are constantly asked to give more and more pain? Simply to forgive as you have been forgiven?

This is where the “extras” in Jesus’ story come in. After the servant had been forgiven his great debt, he later sees another servant and violently demands that he be repaid a few dollars. He has him thrown in prison. This is where, Jesus says, the community responds. He says, “When the other servants saw what had happened, they were greatly distressed and told their master everything…” This is where, when someone or some institution creates such an injustice to another person or group, it is the responsibility of the community to stand up and say NO. Whether it is a battered spouse, an abused child, those who are pushed off the city streets with nowhere else to go, or an entire group of people who has been labeled in a certain way and pronounced unordainable, it is the church’s responsibility to see injustices and to do something about them. We must act in a way that makes it possible to live in a community where everyone is loved, accepted, and forgiven.

We, apparently, are to love and forgive each other. We are also to act in such a way that facilitates a community of forgiveness and love and acceptance. We are to forgive petty offenses. We are to forgive huge hurts. We are to accept forgiveness. And we are also to know when it is time to stand up and say NO to injustices done to our brothers and sisters. And we are always to remember, first – that our debt has been canceled

Amen.