Down to the Hard Work of Reconciliation – Part 4

There is great responsibility to being a follower of Jesus Christ – the responsibility of binding

and loosing, the responsibility of heaven itself.  Yet this responsibility comes with an accompanying promise: the very presence of Christ himself.

In one of the most evocative verses on what it means to be church, Jesus tells his followers that when even a very few – as few as two or three – are gathered in his name, there he is among us.

Jesus has just been speaking of gathering in the cause of restoration where there has been sin and now he speaks of being there with ‘them’ – even with the one doing the breaking . . . as in my body broken – for you . . .

Now we are come full circle to the beginning – at the start of Matthew 18, the disciples are quibbling about who will be the greatest in the coming kingdom of heaven.

Jesus replies that the change that must happen is to become as children and admonishes his followers not to put a stumbling block before another – and perhaps this has been his point all along – after all, Jesus is speaking to his disciples – to the ones he entrusts to carry his gospel message to all the world.

It’s a big job, being a disciple.  It is crucial that they, that we, get it right.  Jesus makes clear what it is not about:

It is not about getting the first prize blue ribbon in some sort of race and if they/we insist on thinking of it that way, they/we would do better to try for last place rather than first.

It is not about being recognized for one’s power and dignity of office – it’s more like being a little kid with nothing to offer.

It is not about setting up gates and entrance exams and tests and setting bars higher and higher to get in.

It is not about setting ourselves as the example unless we are prepared to be the perfect example.  It is about pointing always and only to Jesus, who actually is – the perfect example.  

It is not about valuing station, position, or wealth.  It is about seeking the lost.  Always.

Maybe Jesus was speaking about as well as to the weak ones standing right in front of him, full-blown sinners themselves.  Maybe he was reminding them that their squabbles about who gets in first are just nonsense – harmful nonsense.  Maybe he was telling them that they had to first work this out among themselves before they had anything of value to bring to the world.

Maybe he was reminding them that their journey – our journey – is one of humility, where they, where we, must always be prepared, no matter how old, how advanced, how knowledgeable in bible studies, how closely aligned to Jesus himself, they, we must always be more prepared to be corrected than to correct . . . to be chastised as to chastise . . . to be put right as to put right.

Maybe he was teaching them that correction is a gentle thing that takes great care of the one being offered the correction.

Maybe he was suggesting that when sin and sinners and sinning come up, the one in the room I must first be concerned with is myself.

Maybe he was suggesting that if a sinner be ejected, we’d better leave too. 

Maybe he was suggesting that if a penalty needs to be paid, I should be willing to pay it for you, because we are family and brothers and sisters always take up for each other.

Maybe Jesus was suggesting that unity looks like family – sloppy, messy, mistake-making, feeling-hurting, wrestling-til-we-get-it-right family.

Maybe Jesus wants us to come to those who have done wrong as Christ comes to us – in humility rather than in judgment . . . in great desire for their good rather than for our right . . . in the willingness to take on the burden of their sins as our own that they might be reclaimed.  

Maybe.

Down to the Hard Work of Reconciliation – Part 3

Regardless of the precise meaning of Jesus’ instructions on how to progressively confront the unrepentant sinner in the body of believers, we are still left with the tax-collector-gentile conundrum: what on earth does Jesus mean when he says to treat the unrepentant one as a tax collector or Gentile?
The traditional interpretation over the centuries is that Jesus is instructing his followers to shun, to have nothing to do with, the one who will not repent.  

Is this what Jesus means?

Consider earlier in Matthew, as in Matthew 11.19, where Jesus is reproached, accused of being a drunk and a glutton who was a “friend to tax collectors and sinners” and in Matthew 9.10, where it is noted that “many tax collectors and sinners” came and ate with Jesus and his followers.  The Pharisees objected and Jesus replied, “those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick.”

Maybe treating the unrepentant has nothing to do with shunning. 

It seems to have to do with expecting more rather than less from fellow believers (as we do with family).

But to treat the unrepentant as ‘tax collectors and Gentiles’ might well mean to treat them more gently rather than less. . . especially if we consider Jesus’ earlier statement that they are to be viewed as the ‘sick’ – as those with additional need for care, as those who require the help of a physician rather than the condemnation of a judge.

In practical terms, it might mean that you don’t put that person in a leadership position simply because they’re not up to the job.  But at the same time, you do continue to care for them. . . for as long as it takes – just like we do with the one who suffers a serious illness.

In 12-step programs, members learn a helpful slogan: I’m not a bad person trying to get good; I’m a sick person trying to get well.  Maybe Jesus is talking about going the distance with someone in great need of him – someone whose need is so great they cannot see it for themselves.

And maybe there does come a time when someone must be ejected from the fellowship with the hope that such an extreme measure will bring them to their senses, turn them around.

But I keep coming back to the witness of the desert fathers and mothers – early Christians who went into the desert and away from the cities in order to pursue more closely the life Jesus had called them to live.  Their stories are stories of extreme living, extreme sacrifice, extreme love – extreme Jesus.

Consider the time when a brother who had sinned was turned out of the church by the priest.  Abba Bessarion got up and went out with him, saying, "I, too, am a sinner."

In one monastery, if any committed a fault, many of the other brothers would seek the offending brother’s permission to take the matter to the abbot and to accept both the responsibility and the punishment.  When the abbot found out that his disciples did this, he inflicted easier punishments, in the knowledge that the one punished was actually innocent.  And he made no effort to discover the real culprit.

One brother leaves with the sinner, knowing himself to be a sinner too.  Others take on the punishment for the offender – like brothers and sisters do for each other all the time.

Maybe the tax collector-Gentiles among us are not the ones kicked out, but rather the ones held all the more tightly to, the ones we walk with because we recognize ourselves in them.

Maybe they’re the ones we make room for at the table for we are them.

Maybe as Jesus sees us, so we are to see them.  

To Be Confronted

To be confronted 
to have my failures named
to be blamed and shamed

it is a thing noble, perhaps,
in intent, but nonetheless is felt the sting

and hope and love and kindness, just
a cup, just a sip, the confrontation
does not bring in any way that
can be seen, measured, grabbed hold of

yet in the aftermath
an ash-like arisen thing
comes forth – not brave
it is small, this thing
that looks like it just
might become
hope
kindness
love

and somewhere amidst
the afterbirth of this
new rising, there does
reside a tiny mustard-seed
of a kernel of something
that just might be
the dawning of
the new day possibility of
the resplendent chance of

full thanks
and
recognition
and
acknowledgment
and
honor
and 
indebtedness
and 
grace



_______________
A lectio reading of Matthew 18.15-20, taking the position of the one confronted, the sinner in need of making recompense, all I could feel was the sting, the wounding, of the confrontation, which prompted this reflection on what just might come after, if I am very open, very willing and very lucky.

Loved

Love and hate . . . sinner and sinned against . . . we've been having a FB conversation about the tension (if any there be -- I land on the yes side of that equation) between love and admonition.  What follows is my ruminating on love and sin.  It is a would-be peacemaker's perspective.  What do you think, I wonder?  Is love more present in our challenges, admonitions, judgments, and condemnations?  Or in our understanding and compassion?  Must there be a choice?  Which are we better at?  I'm guessing we're really not very good at either most days and I wonder why that is.


Loved


Love – how disarming a thing
to behold in actual practice –
the sinner, the sinned against,
even the sin itself –  so ready for
the other thing – the admonition,
the condemnation, the judgment –
oh, sin is ever ready for those –
fully armed, protective vest donned –
no chink in the armor to be found –
but when love is lobbed instead,
it finds its target, for the sin
always somehow forgets to protect
the heart against the onslaught
of love

Taking my anger, my self-righteousness
taking all the slings and arrows in my quiver
disarms me completely and I am left not
bereft, not shamed, but filled – filled with
a new thing – there, in the hard place that
was my heart, something warm and
butter-melting finds its way in and
I  –  am  – changed –

love me, love me not
change me, change me not


____________
*Interestingly, in entering labels, I discovered that this is the first time I've used the label 'sin'.  Hmmm.