"Slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love"

Guess what's the most frequent phrase the children in our waiting room are shouting at each other when they get into their frequent fights over toys, attention, space, or the channel on the waiting room t.v. What they hurl at each other are these words: "It's not fair!"

"It's not fair" -- these words don't just document how children behave in our waiting room; rather, they seem to reflect one aspect of how human beings are put together. It's as though each of us has acquired early on a built-in scale that makes us cry out the instant someone receives more than we are receiving: more toys, more attention, more space, more love ... you can fill in the blanks.

"It's not fair" -- the same battle cry is heard when in Jesus' parable in Matthew 20 those laborers who worked just one hour receive just as much as those who started early in the morning: one Roman Denarius. "It's not fair", they complain, and the audience, way back when and today, agrees.  Nonetheless, the landowner is free "to do with what belongs to him", and thus he can say, "I want to give to this last man the same as I gave to you."

 "Are you envious because I am generous?" The second half of Verse 15 sounds almost harmless in most modern English translations. The Greek is everything but. ... η ο οφθαλμοσ σου πονηροσ εστιν οτι εγω αγαθοσ ειμι ... Literally, "Or is your eye evil because I am good?" -- as far as I can see, only the King James Version retains the power of the original.

Is your eye evil because I am good? The tension between human ideas about justice and God's freedom is thrown into sharp relief in the Old Testament text from Jonah 3 and 4.  Jonah is furious because God is merciful to the inhabitants of Ninive. So furious is he that he takes words of comfort that we hear every Lent and throws them in God's face:

“Oh, Lord, this is just what I thought  would happen when I was in my own country.  This is what I tried to prevent by attempting to escape to Tarshish!   – because I knew  that you are gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding  in mercy, and one who relents concerning threatened judgment.  So now, Lord, kill me instead,  because I would rather die than live!” 

Parables, those of Jesus, and such as that of the writer of the Jonah book, are (much like Zen koans which drive Zen students nuts!)  forms of speech that are meant to be disturbing.  Their intent is to break us open, to break us out of our restrictions: restrictions of what we think we know; restrictions fueled by our need to control; restrictions fed by our fears. When parables and koans succeed, we rediscover ourselves, with all our brokenness, hang-ups and limitations; someone once said that they "turn us upside down so that we might find ourselves right side up".

When we stop fighting and cease interpreting parables and other wisdom stories on human terms, we realize that all our fretting about fairness only obscures how deeply uncomfortable we are about receiving God's overflowing gift of love.  It's not like God is stingy -- the problem is clearly ours, for we are proud and greedy and stubborn, and we want things our own way.  We want things our own way, yet the upside down world of the Kingdom of God won't come to us unless we live by the great reversal: "The last will be first, and the first last" (Verse 16).  Taoist wisdom describes the same experience:

Yield and overcome;
Bend and be straight;
Empty and be full;
Wear out and be new;
Have little and gain;
Have much and be confused.

Therefore wise men embrace the one
And set an example to all.
Not putting on a display,
They shine forth.
Not justifying themselves,
They are distinguished.
Not boasting,
They receive recognition.
Not bragging,
They never falter.
They do not quarrel,
So no one quarrels with them.
Therefore the ancients say, 'Yield and overcome.'
Is that an empty saying?
Be really whole,
And all things will come to you.

As the People of God we recognize the cry for fairness as yet another lure of the pathetic street theater some call "the real world". Because we know better, we don't look for fairness; we look for wholeness.

Matthew 20:1-16; Jonah 3:10-4:11; Tao Te Ching 22.

Forgiveness and September 11

Every temptation to approach the 9/11 anniversary from a Theology of Glory was challenged this past weekend when the Gospel forced us to abandon anger, brute force and judgment for grace, mercy and forgiveness. While many us were ready for a juicy "eye for an eye" sort of text, Jesus' invention of the unforgiving slave hit us right in between the eyes and made us come up short.

Many of us have chewed on the story before, and perhaps have spit it out, but what struck me this year was how Jesus traps us by letting us hold on to the whole idea of seeking justice by going to "the authorities".

After he went out, that same slave found one of his fellow slaves who owed him one hundred silver coins. So he grabbed him by the throat and started to choke him, saying, ‘Pay back what you owe me!’  Then his fellow slave threw himself down and begged him, ‘Be patient with me, and I will repay you.’ But he refused. Instead, he went out and threw him in prison until he repaid the debt. When his fellow slaves saw what had happened, they were very upset and went and told their lord everything that had taken place. Then his lord called the first slave and said to him, ‘Evil slave! I forgave you all that debt because you begged me! Should you not have shown mercy to your fellow slave, just as I showed it to you?’ And in anger his lord turned him over to the prison guards to torture him until he repaid all he owed. So also my heavenly Father will do to you, if each of you does not forgive your brother from your heart.

Going to the authorities, or so we believe, is going to make the wrongs right.  But entrusting this king with this problem leads to chaos. He goes back on his word; his judgment is "over the top"; he is outright frigthening. God is not like that!  Jesus has led us, as German theologians like to say, "ad absurdum", to the point of absurdity.  Even when we take our own logic of justice to its logical end, it ends up all wrong.  That's because the king of the parable operates by human standards, and God does not.  That's because human ideas of justice and God's idea of mercy don't go together.

Like those fellow slaves in Jesus' story who want "the authorities" to make things right and end up with a frigthening despot for a king, after 9/11 all of us asked "the authorities" to make us feel safe, and in the process we ended up with governments that are harsh, intrusive and often disproportionately merciless.  When fear becomes a whole world's way of life, we know that our ever-growing need for more security (even when invoked in the name of justice), will only lead into a vicious cycle that feeds on our fear.

Led "ad absurdum" by Jesus, we can stop acting like we belong to this world and like we believe that there is nothing better than this. As we remember his invitation to be "in the world, but never of the world", we are called to re-learn love and compassion, to be curious about our neighbors, our fellow human beings.  As we remember that no one is "other" (no matter what "they" try to sell us out there), we learn to forgive.

One day, Gautam Buddha heard of a man who was feared by everyone, one named Angulimal, literally "the garland of human fingers".  Angulimal had vowed to kill one thousand people, and every time he killed a person, he added one of their fingers to his garland.  At the time the Buddha entered the closed road on which Angulimal lived, deep in the mountains somewhere, Angulimal was considered especially dangerous, since he had already 999 fingers on his garland -- only one more person to kill.

Buddha met several guards on the road; each urged him to go back. "We have orders from the king to not let anyone pass this road", they said, "for Angulimal is a dangerous madman and even his mother has stopped coming. Please return where you came from."  "But if I don't go," said Buddha, "who will?" The guards shook their heads, but let Buddha pass; those of Buddha's disciples who were traveling with him were afraid and slowed down greatly.

As Buddha approached, Angulimal was sitting on a rock, sword in hand; he was very confused; he didn't know what to make of this stranger who didn't seem to fear him at all. When Buddha was just a few feet away, Angulimal shouted, "Don't get any closer.  I am warning you.  You don't know who I am."  Buddha quietly said, "Well, do you know who you are?" "Your life is in danger," said Angulimal, and Buddha replied, "No, it's your life that's in danger". 

As Buddha came closer still, Anguilimal simply said, "I may be forced to kill you". Buddha said, "Alright, but before you cut my head off, let me have one small wish." Angulimal said, "What do you want?" and Buddha asked that he cut him a tree branch with flowers.  Angulimal took his sword and cut off a branch full of flowers and Buddha said, "Oh how wonderful to take in their fragrance just one more time"; then he looked at Angulimal and said quietly, "And now the second part of my wish: Please put the branch back on the tree."  Angulimal became angry and thundered, "Stuff and nonsense, it's cut; it's done; it can't be undone.  And people think I am the one who is crazy around here!"

Buddha said, "If you cannot create life, you have no right to take it.  If you can't give life, you have no business bringing death."  There was a moment of silence, a great moment of transformation, and then the sword fell out of Angulimal's hand.  Angulimal knelt before the Buddha and said, "I don't know who you are, Sir, but I want to be yours.  Take me home, please". 

When Buddha's disciples realized that Buddha was still alive, they came running and said, "We have heard you are making that fellow over there one of us; you can't be serious: he is a murderer, and everyone knows it."  But Buddha said, "He deserves my love and forgiveness just because he is another human being.  It doesn't matter whether he is a murdered or a baker or a silversmith."

Research shows a strong correlation between forgiveness and mental health; it seems as though people who hold on to their anger and resentment simply shorten their lives. This reminds me of Nelson Mandela, who said that resentment "is like drinking poison and then hoping it will kill your enemies".

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.

T'was Grace that taught my heart to fear.
And Grace, my fears relieved.
How precious did that Grace appear
The hour I first believed.

All are sinners.  All are invited.  None is excluded. -- Everyone is a "wretch" like me, and like you.  We are all one, each created in God's image.  -- Psalm 17 says that God keeps each of us "as the apple of his eye".

Yes, on first sight, an "eye for an eye" sort of text would have suited us "just fine" this past Sunday. But the universe doesn't work that way. The "an eye for an eye" idea is limiting and suitable only for this temporary world in which we happen to be guests; it's based on the demands of a bruised ego.  As citizens of God's new world we need to learn to control our egos -- love and compassion don't come to a person who's a slave of his or her own ego.

How can we not forgive?
Matthew 18:21-35