As always the timeliness of the lectionary and the current events of our lives is startlingly
brought home by our bulletin cover this morning. While not referring to our own remembrance of the events of September
11th, the words of Exodus call us along with our Jewish brothers and sisters to a time of solemn reflection.
The High Holy Days began with Roshashanah on Friday evening, and will run throughout the week ending with Yom Kippur.
During that time period faithful Jews will take time to contemplate how they got to where they are today, who they
may have offended along the way, how if possible can they repair any damage that was done, who is still here and
who is not, what continues to hold the community together, and what changes need to be made in order to move forward
in a more Godly way?
That is a good discipline for anyone who claims faith in God. Such questions should always inspire a sense of awe
and indebtedness, more akin to our epistle lesson than the encouragement to what is almost a "jihad"
or "holy war" theme as heard in the morning's Psalm. But scripture is always honest about the reactions
of human beings, both well thought out and emotion driven.
As we continue to reimage the place of sadness and pain in our lives, we reflect on the victims of the World Trade
Center tragedy - 2,801 very unique individuals, 18 fewer than reported last month as some people reported missing
were found alive, suspected fraud cases were discovered and duplications were eliminated. We have to be overwhelmed
at the depth of sadness such lists evoke. Among those names, eight children, ranging in age from 2 to 11, are now
confirmed to have been killed, all of them aboard hijacked planes, two others are still reported missing in the
building itself. The oldest confirmed victim was 85-year-old Robert Grant Norton, a passenger on American Airlines
Flight 11, which crashed into the north tower. The youngest confirmed victim was Christine Lee Hanson, 2, of Groton,
Mass., who died along with her parents, Peter and Sue, on United Flight 175, which hit the south tower.
It has been almost a year, and within the body of Christ we are being asked where is the place of forgiveness?
Many will want to raise the issue of whether there is a difference between "forgiveness" and "justice,"…but
that is not what the scripture readings are calling us to consider today.
In the preparation instructions for Passover found in the book of Exodus the direction is to eat the meal with
"your nearest neighbor," not necessarily your best friend. What is that saying about our need to share
relations with all of our global neighbors, and not just our allies? Another feature of the Seder meal is to drip
wine, one drop for each plague, as a sign that there is to be no animosity toward Egypt, no looking back, and no
mourning for the loss of the first born children. These thoughts must be left behind if one is to keep the struggle
for peace going, if it is to be better, and that is at the heart of the answer to the question: WHY IS THIS NIGHT
DIFFERENT FROM ALL OTHER NIGHTS?
Perhaps such attitudes can only be maintained in symbolic ways, on annual celebrations of remembrance. But similar
instructions found in Matthew 18, our Gospel lesson for this morning, have been called "the most distinctively
ecclesiastical passages in Matthew's Gospel, describing the process whereby, following a break between brothers
or sisters, a restoration is meant to be attempted. There are three stages: (1) A private settling of the offense
is first tried, the aim being restoration. (2) If that fails, the matter is to be presented to impartial witnesses.
And (3) Failing both of these, the matter is to be referred to the Church's executive office. If the Church is
not heeded, the offending person is excluded, and such exclusion is final.
From a practical experience standpoint in counseling, it's generally safe to say that if a reconciliation or understanding
cannot be established after one or two conversations, then the item being discussed isn't the core issue anyway.
In such cases the process will need to be greatly slowed down until the core issue or issues can be admitted or
discerned, and at that point, there may still be no happy outcome.
One of the great dangers of Christianity from the beginning has been that it goes through cycles where it becomes
more concerned about purity than it does about forgiveness. When that happens all we come away with is a haughty
religious attitude that convinces us "we're pretty good people" because of a certain piety we practice
that is in vogue at the moment. While purity is tantamount to a relationship with God in Christian understanding,
the only means of attaining it is through the confession of personal failings and the forgiveness that Jesus offers.
So why is it that we often fail so miserably? I'm reminded of the quote that the "church is the only institution
that shoots it's own wounded." We can be a very depressing bunch in terms of setting a leading example of
how the world could be. I have many clergy colleagues that are serving very difficult congregations. The people
are never happy with their pastors, they don't get along with each other, they have nothing but complaints to offer
up meeting after meeting after meeting. I remember hearing back in seminary that "Every church deserves a
better pastor, and every pastor deserves a better church,…and both of these should occur without any moving trucks
coming to town."
While these words are about what we should do when someone offends us, they are surrounded by instructions on what
we should do when we are the offender. Grief and pain are experienced as well as inflicted. The disciples, supposedly
the leaders, arguing about who is greatest, the celebration God has when one lost sheep comes home but the brother
who won't participate, the servant who receives forgiveness, but won't forgive another. In last week's text you
may recall that Peter opposed Jesus, and tried to come up with a million reasons why this kind of teaching is impractical.
And while all those excuses are valid, Jesus still puts these teaching in the hands of individual Christians and
the collective hands of the church. When we refuse to put them into practice, just like Peter we are showing that
we prefer the ways of humanity over the ways of God, and what profit is it to a church if it gains the whole world
and loses its own soul? Or what will a church give in exchange for its soul?
We should routinely teach each new church council and every pre-wedding couple about the basic "triangle strangle."
Someone becomes the victim, someone becomes the rescuer and someone is identified as the persecutor. Nobody wins
and the players all take turns switching the three roles. The wisdom in Matthew is that it starts the process with
just the two people involved, there is no rescuer. The first one has to take action based on what they feel/perceive/experience.
In substance abuse treatment centers, they teach the clients what is called a "Care-frontation formula."
It too has 3 parts: Be able to voice the following completed statements before you confront someone on an issue
that bothers you: 1. When you . . . 2. I feel . . . 3. And what I need from you is . . .
The genius of this formula may be in its harmony with this passage, and a consideration for the question about
who decides who's the victim. Before you can use it, you have to do your own homework. Identifying the offense
perhaps is easy, but steps 2 and 3 use the "I" pronoun, and so the offended party must know what it is
they feel, and what they need (implication here is for a desired outcome). It calls for some clarity on the part
of the one who believes they've been "sinned against." It also opens the relationship to further choice
and dialog.
Of course, just because we can identify what we need from someone, doesn't mean that they can provide it.
Should these teachings only apply to Jews or Christians since that's who this gospel is for? Perhaps…but at the
time Jesus was speaking exclusively to Jews. How did he himself treat "outsiders"? How did He treat gentiles
and tax-collectors? He reached out to them. He loved them. He made friends with them. He used them as examples
for holiness. He broke bread with them. He healed them even when he at first thought he shouldn't. He even made
one tax-collector his disciple, and in the end, He died for them. It's also important for us to remember the "them"
is us. In other words, he forgave 70 x 7.
Such action in response to personal pain and suffering is at the heart of all peace making, and sometimes the struggle
to make peace if best seen between the individual soul and God. Some of you may be familiar with Mattie J.T. Stepanek.
He started writing poetry when he was 3 years old, and has become world-famous thanks to appearance on shows like,
"Oprah," and "Good Morning America." He suffers from a very rare form of muscular dystrophy,
called disautonomic mitochondrial myopathy. His body sometimes forgets to breathe, so he has a trac and a ventilator
that do that for him He has had three siblings die from the same disease, and has been forced to be home schooled
by his mother, who is also wheelchair bound with Muscular Dystrophy. All of these children and their mother were
diagnosed only after the disease had already shown signs of progressing.
Mattie is now twelve years old, having survived longer than any other child, and he's got a new book entitled "Celebrate
Through Heartsongs." His earlier books, "Heartsongs," "Journey Through Heartsongs," and
"Hope Through Heartsongs," have all been major best sellers. He explains a heartsong as: "your inner
message, it's your inner beauty, like what you are meant to do in life. My heartsong is to help others hear theirs
again. And all heartsongs are different and unique and beautiful. And even though similarities are good, it's the
differences that make them special. And we should never try to force our heartsongs on others or have them all
be the same."
His goal in his own words in an interview with Larry King this past week is simply this:
"I want to be a peacemaker. And I want to spread peace through public speaking and my poetry. And I believe
that there are three easy choices to peace. And we have to choose them, and stick to them. We have to choose to
make peace an attitude. We have to want it, and make it something that truly matters inside of us. And what keeps
me going, a big factor, is my mom who's always been there for me, and another huge factor is prayer. And I'm very
close to God and I feel that there is a heaven and you will move on. But we shouldn't waste our time here on earth,
we should enjoy it while it lasts. We are the festive fabric of life, divided, we fall."
I believe that peace is possible, and if we chose to do three things, then we will have peace. I believe that if
we choose to make peace an attitude, and want it, and we make it something that truly matters inside of our hearts,
and then if we choose to make peace a habit, to not just think it but to live it and share it, and if we choose
to make peace a reality and spread it throughout the world and get involved and understand what's going on, we
will have peace. We are made by one thing. And who cares what it's called. Some people call it God, Buddha, Allah,
Yahweh, all the different names are all beautiful and unique. And that's what whatever the God is wanted it. But
whatever the God is, didn't want us fighting over what we call him.
In one of his most popular poems entitled "I Am" he expresses similar
thoughts about our personal differences.
I am black. I am white. I am all skin in between. I am young. I am old. I am each age that has been. I am scrawny.
I am well fed. I am starving for attention. I am famous. I am cryptic. I am hardly worth the mention. I am short.
I am height. I am any frame or stature. I am smart. I am challenged. I am striving for a future. I am able. I am
weak. I am some strength. I am none. I am being. I am thoughts. I am all things, said and done. I am born. I am
dying. I am dust of humble roots. I am grace. I am pain. I am labor of willed fruits. I am a slave. I am free.
I am bonded to my life. I am rich. I am poor. I am wealth amid strife. I am a shadow. I am glory. I am hiding from
my shame. I am hero. I am loser. I am yearning for a name. I am empty. I am proud. I am seeking my tomorrow. I
am growing. I am fading. I am hope amid the sorrow. I am certain. I am doubtful. I am desperate for solutions.
I am leader. I am student. I am fate and evolutions. I am spirit. I am voice. I am memories not recalled. I am
chance. I am cause. I am effort, blocks and walls. I am him. I am her. I am reasons without rhymes. I am past.
I am nearing. I am present in all times. I am many. I am no one. I am seasoned by each being. I am me. I am you.
I am all souls now decreeing: I am.
As to the relative certainty of his own young demise:
You know what, a cure is possible if we never give up the hope. And so it may not be in my lifetime or your lifetime
or anybody's lifetime that's right now, but if we give up the hope, we stop raising money and we stop thinking
"We're going to have a cure," we won't. We need to be. Just be. Be for a moment kind and gentle, innocent
and trusting like children and lambs, never judging or vengeful like the judging and vengeful. And now let us pray,
differently, yet together before there is no earth, no life, no chance for peace.
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