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Matthew 18.21-35

Then Peter came and said to him, “Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times. “For this reason the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his slaves. When he began the reckoning, one who owed him ten thousand talents was brought to him; and, as he could not pay, his lord ordered him to be sold, together with his wife and children and all his possessions, and payment to be made. So the slave fell on his knees before him, saying, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything.’ And out of pity for him, the lord of that slave released him and forgave him the debt. But that same slave, as he went out, came upon one of his fellow slaves who owed him a hundred denarii; and seizing him by the throat, he said, ‘Pay what you owe.’ Then his fellow slave fell down and pleaded with him, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you.’ But he refused; then he went and threw him into prison until he would pay the debt. When his fellow slaves saw what had happened, they were greatly distressed, and they went and reported to their lord all that had taken place. Then his lord summoned him and said to him, ‘You wicked slave! I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. Should you not have had mercy on your fellow slave, as I had mercy on you?’ And in anger his lord handed him over to be tortured until he would pay his entire debt. So my heavenly Father will also do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart.”

Once again, we are given an example of the need for infinite grace and forgiveness. Seventy times seven is not enough. This is a difficult concept for our finite natures to grasp. Our minds keep a ledger of debts, deals, and balances. Of course, we should be generous, but not too generous. We don’t want to be considered weak or a “push over” or an “easy mark”. Somehow, the sticky wicket of fairness clouds our judgement. Isn’t forgiving seven times plenty? No, this scripture makes it very clear, it is not enough.

These days, I am working with a group of high school seniors who have not done well with remote learning. They are missing required credits. Their chances of graduating this May are bleak unless we can convince some very stressed and irritated teachers to give them additional opportunities to make up these credits. This is a challenge, but I feel there is a connection between this scripture and my students need for another chance, a time extension or an alternative assignment. They need forgiveness, not because they deserve it, but because we all need such forgiveness every day.

I think my reflection on this scripture today is really a prayer for help. Lord, help me guide and inspire these students to ask for grace once again and help me support their teachers to grant them the grace of a “retake”. Don’t we all need those “retakes”? Amen.

You can listen to the reading and reflection by clicking here.

2 Kings 5.1-15

Naaman, commander of the army of the king of Aram, was a great man and in high favor with his master, because by him the Lord had given victory to Aram. The man, though a mighty warrior, suffered from leprosy.Now the Arameans on one of their raids had taken a young girl captive from the land of Israel, and she served Naaman’s wife. She said to her mistress, “If only my lord were with the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy.” So Naaman went in and told his lord just what the girl from the land of Israel had said. And the king of Aram said, “Go then, and I will send along a letter to the king of Israel.” He went, taking with him ten talents of silver, six thousand shekels of gold, and ten sets of garments. He brought the letter to the king of Israel, which read, “When this letter reaches you, know that I have sent to you my servant Naaman, that you may cure him of his leprosy.” When the king of Israel read the letter, he tore his clothes and said, “Am I God, to give death or life, that this man sends word to me to cure a man of his leprosy? Just look and see how he is trying to pick a quarrel with me.” But when Elisha the man of God heard that the king of Israel had torn his clothes, he sent a message to the king, “Why have you torn your clothes? Let him come to me, that he may learn that there is a prophet in Israel.”

So Naaman came with his horses and chariots, and halted at the entrance of Elisha’s house. Elisha sent a messenger to him, saying, “Go, wash in the Jordan seven times, and your flesh shall be restored and you shall be clean.” But Naaman became angry and went away, saying, “I thought that for me he would surely come out, and stand and call on the name of the Lord his God, and would wave his hand over the spot, and cure the leprosy! Are not Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel? Could I not wash in them, and be clean?” He turned and went away in a rage. But his servants approached and said to him, “Father, if the prophet had commanded you to do something difficult, would you not have done it? How much more, when all he said to you was, ‘Wash, and be clean’?” So he went down and immersed himself seven times in the Jordan, according to the word of the man of God; his flesh was restored like the flesh of a young boy, and he was clean.

Then he returned to the man of God, he and all his company; he came and stood before him and said, “Now I know that there is no God in all the earth except in Israel; please accept a present from your servant.”

A mighty commander. Raids and captives. A treasure readied to secure healing. “Go then,” the king of Aram tells his champion, Naaman, “and I will send along a letter to the king of Israel.”

The king of Israel is dismayed at what he reads: “When this letter reaches you, know that . . .”

For me, one of this past year’s defining characteristics is an ever-present ellipsis . . . the news alert . . . . the email bing . . . the phone ring . . . multiple times this past year I understood the urge to clench my hands and tear my own clothes . . .

“So Naaman came with his horses and his chariots . . .”—the message was clear to the king of Israel, the show of power and its implicit threat. Elisha, however, is literally unmoved. He sends a messenger out to Naaman. The army commander is enraged at the perceived slight, anger triggered by his sense of personal superiority (“I thought that for me he would”) and nationalistic bias (wash in the waters of Israel?).

But, for the second time in this passage, when given advice by his servants—persons far below his social station and over whom he likely has absolute authority, including as to life or death—Naaman listens and acts. In this listening and doing, he is made clean. Healed. In the words of the text: “restored.” When he returns to Elisha, Naaman testifies that he knows something new about God.

Surely, healing and restoration—returning to God—may be sparked by arduous, acute trial or tragedy, a healing catalyzed by emergency forged into lasting commitment. But I don’t think that’s how it happens for most of us most of the time. Something I’ve been trying to return to, as these pandemic months of what for me has become mostly a day-to-day routine of at times grinding monotony and near isolation, is the idea of practice.

It’s an idea that for me recalls early life lessons at school, in music, in sports: repetition and routine, repetition and routine, until, incrementally, the new becomes the known becomes instinct becomes reflex. So I’ve been trying to remember to practice: to breathe and keep calm like Elisha, to remember that God is working (“ . . . by him the Lord had . . . ”), to listen like Naaman, to do and do again and do again whatever blessed thing can, at times, feel infuriatingly routine, to keep myself open for what new thing I might learn to know of God.

You can listen to the reading and reflection by clicking here.

Micah 7.14-15, 18-20

Shepherd your people with your staff, the flock that belongs to you, which lives alone in a forest in the midst of a garden land; let them feed in Bashan and Gilead as in the days of old. As in the days when you came out of the land of Egypt, show us marvelous things. Who is a God like you, pardoning iniquity and passing over the transgression of the remnant of your possession? He does not retain his anger forever, because he delights in showing clemency. He will again have compassion upon us; he will tread our iniquities under foot. You will cast all our sins into the depths of the sea. You will show faithfulness to Jacob and unswerving loyalty to Abraham, as you have sworn to our ancestors from the days of old.

As I read the passage, I was struck with a sense of motion or swaying. Is the author talking about God or to God? Are we stuck in the forest or is there hope and bounty nearby? If today is hard, were the “good old days” marvelous? Is the author reminding God of his compassion or demanding the faithfulness that God swore to his people?

With time and distance, I am better able to gain perspective, to see where God was at work in my life, to acknowledge what was marvelous. I recently read Exodus, and there were plenty of challenges for the Israelites back then; they were fearful and sick of manna and doubting all in the midst of the marvelous things including God appearing to Moses. I say this to remind myself that “yes, today may have challenges”, I may be living in fear or resentment, and I may miss that this current moment is marvelous.

For me, this is the ongoing juxtaposition of Covid times. Life turned 180 degrees. A year ago, I was exhausted and burned out, wishing I could take a break from the daily hustle to midtown, slow down and live deeper. Some days I feel cut off from the flock, and yet I have gotten to know many much better than I could have in “normal” overscheduled life. The joy that my parents will be fully vaccinated means that it is time for me to return home, which is bittersweet. Working online meant I could participate in Sacred Ground and God Has Work for Us to Do.

The end of the passage I hear as a reminder: God can remake you, so let him. God is faithful, so know you are his flock. God is committed and therefor you are called to be too. And all of that, to me, is marvelous.