Pentecost 12 | Exodus 12:1-14; Psalm 149; Romans 13:8-14; Matthew 18:15-20
The name of this poem is “UNYUMMY”:
God dropped in on Ungar Belfast just around lunchtime.
“AAARRR!!” God roared, and Pastor Henri Todd
was suddenly there to translate.
“He says ‘The cold are yummy…
“AAARRR…” Ungar shrunk in terror.
“…and the hot are extremely tasty with a bit of red wine.”
“AAAARRRR!” God was enraged.
“…but the lukewarm, those he would spew out of his mouth!”
At this, God completely flattened Pastor Henri Todd with the flat of his hand
and ate him.
Then He spewed forth the Pastor, who was whole again, if not a little shaken.
“Well,” Stammered the Pastor Henri Todd, “In my case he would vomit perpetually.”
God patted him on the head and smiled,
showing Ungar Belfast all his huge
pointed teeth.
I wrote that poem in 1986, and it terrified me. Literally, my hand was shaking as I wrote it. But I knew that something important was coming out, so I bit my teeth, swallowed back on my fear of Hellfire, and kept going.
I’ll always be grateful to Margaret for her encouragement in our creative writing class, because she, too, saw that something important was happening. Not literarily important, mind you, but personally important. I was confronting God with his monstrousness.
It was important for me to do so—indeed it was vital that I do so. I dare say I would not be a Christian today, nor standing before you now had I not done so. Terrifying? Yes, but essential.
There are people who disagree, of course. These are the “God can do no wrong,” folks, or the slightly softer, “if it looks like God has done wrong, we’re just not understanding it right” folks. I do understand where they are coming from. It’s much easier to trust a God if we can convince ourselves that he is all powerful and all good.
Unfortunately, scripture just doesn’t seem to bear witness to that kind of God. Look at our first reading, for example. Israel is being told to celebrate the first Passover—kill a lamb, smear its blood on the door of your house—try getting that one past your condo’s homeowner’s association today. So what’s wit this macabre ornamentation? What’s it for?
Because God is about to send an angel of death to murder the children of the Egyptians, and we want to make sure he doesn’t get your kids by mistake.
Is that the kind of God you want to get cozy with? A God who murders children? Even more ironic, let’s look at the context. The Bible’s first historical figure, Abraham, is told to sacrifice his own child, and then at the last minute is stopped by yet another angel. This was a big turning point, and something that separated Israel from its neighbors. Child sacrifice was rampant in the ancient world. Even in the Iliad, Agamemnon kicks the whole campaign against Troy off with the sacrifice of his own daughter, Iphigenia. But God says, “No more! You will not sacrifice your children!” But the Egyptian children are somehow okay to kill? That’s a hard one to swallow, I’m afraid. I’ve seen Egyptian children—they’re just as cute as other kids.
And our Psalm is not much better. Oh, it starts out good enough, but then it takes an ominous turn: “Let the saints be joyful…let the high praises of God be in their mouth, and a two edged sword in their hand, to execute vengeance on the nations.”
I don’t know about you, but I don’t really trust self-appointed saints executing armed vengeance on ANYBODY. First of all, who gets to determine who the good guys and the bad guys are, anyway? This is the way al-Qaeda works, isn’t it? I’m especially distrustful of scripture-supported vengeance. It’s the most slippery and insidious kind. Because we humans feel free to act like our gods. Indeed, we feel compelled to act FOR them. And if the gods we serve are vengeful, hateful, violent, we seem to have no qualms at all about emulating that behavior.
Even Paul, in the midst of an otherwise lovely section of his letter to the Romans, suddenly says, “let us put on the armor of light” as if there were such a thing. I think Lao Tzu is close to the truth: “All weapons are bad news, and all creatures should detest them” (31).
I look at all this militant imagery, I consider the implications of the Passover event and the murder of hundreds of thousands of children, I think of the reprehensible things that people do to each other, sincerely and in the name of God, I consider how people treat each other, even within churches I’ve been a part of, and you know, I don’t think it’s any wonder why people give up on God. His “huge, pointy teeth” are clearly in evidence for anyone who opens their eyes to see them.
So where does that leave us? Well, we could follow the instructions in our Gospel. I’ve confronted God privately about this stuff. I’ve confronted him in the company of witnesses. Why not confront him before the assembly of the church? Why not say, “Hey! What the hell? What were you thinking? How do you justify this? How are we supposed to accept you or love you or recommend you when you act like this? When you encourage this kind of behavior in your followers?
Hm…no lightning. Guess we’ll have to try for a less dramatic close to this sermon. Very well: Our Gospel reading, ironically, is a section pulled out of a chapter that is all about children. In the beginning of chapter 18 of Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus calls a little child to him, and says, “you must be converted and become like one of these.” He then says that “anyone who causes a little child to go astray” is accursed. He warns against despising these little ones, and says that he will seek out those who become lost, just as a shepherd will leave behind the flock to find a single lamb.
Then we get to our section on how to reconcile with one another—maybe not the best method according to today’s experts, but the intention behind these instructions is certainly honorable. And in the next section, Peter asks “how many times should I forgive someone? Seven times?” and Jesus answers, “No, seventy times seven.” In other words, you must always forgive them.
And that’s what we need to hear, I think. We hear a lot of talk in church circles about forgiving one another, but we NEVER hear about forgiving God, as if God were somehow above judgment. He’s not. The Bible is very clear, if we read the plain meaning of the text, that God changes his mind, that he makes mistakes, that he screws up, that he sins, and repents, and seeks reconciliation with us mere mortals.
God doesn’t need us to defend his actions—in many cases, they are simply indefensible. But God does need us to forgive him, just as we need to be forgiven. When we pray, “forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us” we don’t often think of God among those who trespass against us, but we should.
One of the chief reasons that people leave the church and the faith of their youth is because they have been hurt by God, or hurt by people in the church supposedly acting in his name. And, just as often among my students, they do not engage with our tradition because they have read the Bible and they are offended by God’s behavior as recorded in scripture.
But surely, if we can be forgiven by God, we can forgive God. As a spiritual director, I often find that the primary obstacle that people have to intimacy with God is the fact that the image they hold of him is, quite frankly, monstrous. Who can cozy up to a demon? How can you let down your guard and open your heart to someone who has hurt you if no reconciliation has been made, or even attempted?
As we begin our new mission at Grace North Church, focused on Contemplative Practice and mysticism, let’s be clear that what this is a call to is intimacy—intimacy with God. For intimacy to be possible, we have to be on good terms. Do you have things you need to get off your chest? Are there things you need to say to God to clear the air and make a new start? Are you nursing old wounds or resentments? Are there past behaviors or actions that you need to confront God with so that reconciliation can be possible?
If so, allow me to encourage you: God will not be angry with you for getting honest with him. Whether the fault is actually God’s, or whether the fault is in your understanding of God—and both of these are possible—either way, nly good can come of YOU getting honest with HIM. If you are nursing old, hurt feelings towards God, then go to a place where you have privacy, and tell God how you feel in no uncertain terms. And I mean let him have it.
And if that’s too scary, do it with a friend. Make an appointment with me, and we’ll confront God together.
Because God can take it. God WANTS to take it. God WANTS to clear the air so that peace between you is possible, so that reconciliation is possible, so that real love and intimacy can take root and grow.
Let us pray…
God, you are as complicated and messy as the rest of us,
Which is to say, you are a real person,
And you call us into real relationship,
Which, again, is always messy and complicated.
Help us to forgive even as we have been forgiven,
Help us to have the courage to be honest with you,
Even when it scares us.
Help us to let go of hurt and fear and resentment and anger
And to be as naked before you
as you have shown yourself to be, in Jesus, toward us.
Let there be peace between us.
Let forgiveness and reconciliation flourish.
Let our love grow unfettered by the bitterness of the past.
For we ask this in the name of the one who showed us your deepest desire
Even Jesus Christ. Amen.
