Photo credit: Ben Sutherland, via Flickr, licensed under CC 2.0.
The photo is of the statue "Reconciliation,"
by Josefina de Vasconcellos at Coventry Cathedral.
This summer, we’ve been spending time considering courtroom scenes in scripture – seeing how they bring real life into focus. So, it might seem strange to conclude this particular series with this particular Scripture. After looking to all these courtroom scenes, it might feel strange to conclude with a Scripture that says, at its heart, “Don’t go to court. If there’s any way you can avoid it, don’t go to court.”
After all, we’ve seen a lot of real life in these courtroom scenes.
Remember. We began by visiting the courtroom where Jesus is standing before Pontius Pilate. The powers are doing what they do. Empire and corrupt religious authority have conspired and are ready to come crashing down on Jesus, and Pilate asks, “What is truth?” And as that question hangs in the air – the only answer before Pilate is Jesus – the Word becomes flesh full of grace and truth. The answer to all that power-over – the truth – is God’s love for us in Jesus Christ, stronger than any power, stronger even than death.
We visited Solomon’s courtroom in the early days of his being king. We watched as two grieving women come before him, contending over a living child, and we tried to listen to them. We tried to listen to these women from the margins bold enough to come before the king and testify to their trauma and their pain. And we hoped with them for healing and wisdom – for ways of living that lead to more life.
Then we girded up our loins and ventured into the prophetic courtroom as God Godself brought charges against the people. We listened as God spoke truth to the people of the damage they had done – the damage we have done to creation in this time of climate unravelling. We listened as God then took the stand to testify, as God sang a song for God’s vineyard – a song of lament – a call and a cry for justice.
We listened as God brought a charge against the people, and then the next week we listened as Job brought his charges against God. Out of deep and inexplicable suffering, Job demands to be heard. And eventually God responds. Job gets his day and court. And what we heard – out the whirlwind – was not a neat and tidy answer – but a groan and a shout – what we found was God present there with us, in the depths of our suffering, inexplicably answering life with life.
And just last week, we entered Joseph’s courtroom – Joseph with the power of Pharaoh – holding court as the brothers who had done Joseph harm come to him in famine, pleading that he let them buy some food. And as Joseph’s weeping shakes the palace, what we found was mercy – or what someone last week suggested might better be called grace – abounding mercy, abounding grace – their life no longer defined or constrained by the wrong the brothers had done, but defined and empowered by their shared humanity.
In these courtroom scenes, we have seen a lot of real life, and we’ve seen God right there in the midst – with truth, wisdom, justice, compassion, mercy, and grace.
But in this morning’s Scripture, at the heart of Jesus’s message is the plaintive plea – “If there’s any way to avoid it, don’t go to court.”
Now, it might not seem like that as first. This passage does feel litigious. Let’s remember where we are. We are back in the Gospel of Matthew.[1] Remember, Matthew’s community is likely a smaller community that has been thrown out of a larger community. They’ve been thrown out for embracing the way of Jesus – and the pain of that is still raw and fresh. So the world of Matthew’s gospel is disputed and contested. In Matthew’s world there are real enemies, real threat, real contention.
At first glance, this text could be seen as a roadmap for excommunication.[2] If a brother or sister – a sibling does you wrong... do this and do this and do this ... and if none of that works, treat them as you would a Gentile or a tax collector. Bye.
Or, this text could be seen as an advertisement for ecclesiastical courts: If a sibling wrongs you – bring your case – tell it to the church – take it to the church courts. (And given who you preacher is this morning, you could be reasonably suspicious of that.)
This text does build toward that “if none of that works, treat them as you would a Gentile or a tax collector.” But that’s the last resort, not the first by far. When a brother or sister, a sibling, wrongs you – the very last resort is to break relationship.
Before you do that, gather the community around and ask for help.
And even before you do that, before you get everyone all riled up, call on one or two trusted community members, and see if they can help mediate a way toward peace.
And before you do that, before you do that, if a sibling wrongs you, have the decency and loving courage, to go to them – to that one – to that brother, that sister, that sibling – and talk. Speak your truth. See if they will listen. Maybe you might want to listen too. What might they have to say to you? If they listen – you have gained back your family. Notice that the standard there is not that you have to agree. What’s required here is that you listen – that they listen – that you listen to each other. If you listen – if they listen – really listen –you have gained your family back.
This Scripture starts there. Before you walk away from a sibling, before you take them to court, do your work. Do the hard and loving and worthy work of reconciliation. See if they will listen. See if you will.
And, then, if the two of you can’t do it on your own, then ask for help. Step by step, use every resource, every tool that you can find to try to bridge the gap – to hang in there together.
But – you might say – there still is that “And if none of that works, treat them as you would a Gentile and a tax collector.” And we know how in Matthew’s world Gentiles and tax collectors are treated. They are shunned. Now, some writers have made sense of that by pointing out that in this text they aren’t really shunned; by not listening, they are choosing not to be in relationship.[3] I get that. And, I want to push a little further.
We know how Matthew’s world treats Gentiles and tax collectors. But this is not only Matthew’s world – it’s Matthew’s gospel. It’s the good news of Jesus Christ as understood and shared by this hurting little community that has been thrown out of the larger community. So let’s ask this: The text says, if your listening doesn’t work, treat the sibling who has offended you as a Gentile or tax collector. Well, in this gospel, how does Jesus treat Gentile and tax collectors? That’s right. Jesus never stops welcoming Gentiles and tax collectors and eating with them at table.[4]
If your relationship starts to strain and break – go to your sibling. Talk it out, speak some truth, try and listen. If that doesn’t work, bring in a couple others to help. If that doesn’t work, bring in a couple others to help. And if that doesn’t work, well, treat them as a Gentile and a tax collectors – like those Gentiles and tax collectors sitting at the table with Jesus. Every bit of this passage is about doing the hard work of reconciliation, and not relenting.[5]
Well, you might say, surely there must be some limit on that. And actually there is. Jesus answers that question at the end of this Scripture (and you may remember I preached on that part of the Scripture back in Lent.) After hearing all this, Peter says, “Well how many times must we forgive?” And Jesus says, “Seventy times seven.” Do your work – the hard work of reconciliation – and count the number of times you try. One. Two, Three.. and so on. And when you get to 490, well, then you can stop.
This past week, we’ve heard a good bit of talk about reconciliation – or at least about reaching out across our divisions and separations. I don’t know if you noticed, but there was a political convention on TV. And to be sure, the speeches at the convention were replete with partisan rhetoric – as one would expect. But... or maybe and... amid all that rhetoric.. there were, from time to time, glimpses of a rhetoric of reconciliation.
When it was President Obama’s turn, he did his thing... he lifted up the candidate he supports, but then he also did this. He put into focus the sorry state of our political discourse,[6] saying this:
“Our politics has become so polarized these days that all of us, [all of us] across the political spectrum, seem so quick to assume the worst in others unless they agree with us on every single issue. We start thinking that the only way to win is to scold and shame and out yell the other side.”
I see that, too. Do you? There have been times I have been guilty of that.
And then he said, “But that doesn’t work.” He reminded us that that kind of rancor doesn’t help. President Obama admonished us:
To make progress on the things we care about, the things that really affect people’s lives, we need to remember that we’ve all got our blind spots and contradictions and prejudices; and that if we want to win over those who aren’t yet ready to support our candidate, we need to listen to their concerns — and maybe learn something in the process.
So... let’s note that an admonition like that in a partisan speech is... ironic and imperfect. But if you listened to the speech and watched it, you may remember that President Obama had that very partisan room squirming in their seats.
In the midst of our raw and apparent differences, he grounded us in our shared humanity – our love of family, the ways we help our neighbors, our shared yearning for a world better than the mess we have made. President Obama insisted that “a sense of mutual respect has to be part of our message.” He called us to the hard work of reconciliation: “Our fellow citizens deserve the same grace we hope they’ll extend to us.”
I’m going to tell you something I don’t tell many people. Back when I was a practicing lawyer, one of the things I hated most was settling cases. I was – and still am – an advocate. We had clients to represent, and I believed in their cause. We had a point to make – a clear view of how the world should work. And, I wanted to argue my point. I wanted to prevail – I wanted to prove my point – I wanted to win.
Settling a case means you have to listen to the other side – sometimes for hours upon hours of mediation. You have to listen and engage and struggle to see if you can find common ground that will allow everyone to move forward – without fighting it out to the very bitter end. Now, you don’t have to give up the things you value most. But you have to be willing to be changed – to give a little (or a lot) on the non-essential things.
Yeah, I didn’t like that at all. Fortunately, I had a law partner more pragmatic than I. On those days we were in mediation, he would say to me, “Scott, I know you want to win this. I know that you are convinced. You have all day today to work through that, but by 5pm, you need to be ready to come to an agreement with those folks in the other room. You need to be ready to do that.. for the good of our clients.”
The work of reconciliation is hard. The text from Second Corinthians gets at that. We have to die with Christ to the discord and separation and enmity of this world so that we might rise with Christ into this new world of reconciliation and life. A new creation. Reconciled with God – and graced with the calling to help reconcile and heal the world.
The work of reconciliation is hard. And it is the work that is ours to do.
Now, again, the work of reconciliation doesn’t mean that we give up on those things that are foundational to who we are in Jesus Christ – the values that undergird our lives. It doesn’t ask us to give up on the truth that all people are fully human and deserving of full dignity, or on the imperatives to work for justice and freedom, and to care for those who are hurting, for the most vulnerable in the midst of us. And, I should say, that the work of reconciliation doesn’t mean that we stay in or tolerate relationships where we or others are being harmed. God always, always insists on the well-being of all people, including our own.
Reconciliation asks that we actually hold on to all that – seek all that with all that we are – even as we strive to figure out how to live in our differences – aas we try to live together – and ultimately, in the midst of all that, as we seek together to find ways of living that lead to more life.
This Scripture gives us some tools to do that:
When a sibling wrongs you, seek out your sibling.
Speak some truth.
See if they will listen.
You listen, too.
Ask for help – from each other, and from the community that surrounds you.
And even when you can’t quite get there today, well then, love them like Jesus loves the Gentiles and the tax collectors – like Jesus loves us in our most broken moments and always, always wants to see us healed and whole.
This summer, we’ve been looking at these courtroom scenes to see how they bring real life into focus. And in these courtroom scenes, we have seen a lot of real life – families and friends torn apart, the depth of human suffering, the systems that harm and hurt, God’s good creation damaged to the point of unravelling. In all this real life, what this Scripture insists that we do is wade on in – wade on into all that before we go to court, before we break relationship – wade on into the midst of real life, and love each other into reconciliation – to be and come to life in the new creation we are in Jesus Christ.
In all the real life we have seen this summer, what we have found every time is God right there in the midst of it all – with truth, and wisdom, and justice, and compassion, and mercy, and grace. May that be the operative reality that we live out in our lives – as this New Creation in Jesus Christ comes to life in us.
© 2024 Scott Clark
[1] For general background on this text and the Gospel of Matthew, see M. Eugene Boring, “The Gospel of Matthew,” New Interpreters’ Bible Commentary, vol. viii (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1995), pp.377-80; Ada Maria Isasi-Díaz, Commentary in Feasting on the Gospels: Matthew, vol.2 (Louisville, KY; Westminster John Knox Press, 2013), pp.92-97; James C. Howell, Commentary in Feasting on the Gospels: Matthew, vol.2 (Louisville, KY; Westminster John Knox Press, 2013), pp.92-97; Herman C. Waetjen, The Origin and Destiny of Humanness (San Rafael, CA: Crystal Press, 1976).
[2] See Boring, p.378.
[3] See Isasi-Díaz, p.94; Waetjen, p.188.
[4] See Howell, p.96 (“Jesus had great love for Gentiles and tax collectors.”).
[5] See Isasi-Díaz, p.94 (“The community is never to give up.”)
[6] See https://barackobama.medium.com/our-remarks-at-the-2024-democratic-national-convention-4b1f8a9dce8c for text of the speech
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