August 2, 2009 - Proper 13, Year B (RCL)
It all began
when he had an unexpected visitor.
Not that that was unusual -
his was the only house of a decent size in the town,
and with no inns
it was usual for travellers
to come to his gate
and beg a bed for the night.
And usually
he would oblige;
most of them were happy
to unroll their blankets
in the courtyard
where there was always a cool breeze,
or by the fire in the kitchen when the weather was bad,
or at worst
in the loft above the stables.
But this visitor was different.
Instead of coming on foot, travel stained and weary,
he rode in,
accompanied
by two servants,
and the man could see
that this was someone
worth cultivating,
so he offered him
a comfortable bed
and ordered his servants
to prepare an elaborate feast.
The center of it all, of course, would be roast lamb,
and he himself went out
to choose the animal.
He looked at his flocks, gathered by the stable,
assessing each sheep
for the proportion of muscle and fat,
the size of the bones
and the tenderness of the meat.
And then noticed
just on the other side of the fence,
in the yard of a shack
pushed up against his stable walls,
a plump lamb, all by itself,
just the right size.
Not that none of his sheep were suitable
but he’d built up his flock
with prize breeding stock
and would really prefer
not to waste one of them.
So he called to his servants, “That’s the one I want!”
“But, master,” they said, “that’s not your sheep.” That belongs to Abel.
“Hmmm,” said the man. “Abel, yes? The man who built that shack against my stable wall
without my permission?
He gets all the benefit of my wall sheltering him
and it costs him nothing.
Fair rental, I call it.”
Abel was distraught.
This was his lamb, his only lamb. He’d scraped together the money to buy it when it was newborn, scrawny and cheap
because its mother rejected it, and it would have to be hand fed if it were to survive. And even then, it wasn’t certain.
But if it did, he would be able to sell it,
and provide better for his family.
And it survived, and it thrived, but Abel couldn’t imagine selling it. It had become a family pet,
and so he had decided
that maybe he could breed it,
and it would be
the foundation
of a flock.
Until the rich man came along.
And demanded it.
And slaughtered it, and served it up to a guest
for dinner.
When Nathan the prophet
told King David the story
David imagined
that he was being asked for advice.
This was the sort of things he was supposed to do as king,
make sure
that right was upheld
and wrong punished.
And his response was immediate.
“The man
deserves
to die.
But at the very least,
he must make recompense.
Four lambs
to replace that one that he took.
Just because he’s rich and powerful
doesn’t give him the right to do such a terrible
thing.”
And then of course
the zinger.
“You are the man.”
Because, of course, the story wasn’t true.
It was a parable,
meant to help David understand
the enormity
of what he had done.
You remember the reading last week. David was in his palace
and saw a beautiful woman
off in the distance
in her own home.
And he decided
that he wanted her.
It didn’t matter
that he already had
at least three wives
along with a bunch of concubines.
It didn’t matter
that she was already married,
and what’s more,
her husband was away
fighting David’s
war.
All that mattered
was that he wanted
that women.
And she was brought to him
and they had an affair,
and she became pregnant
and David sent her husband into the front line
to be killed.
It was pretty close
to murder,
manslaughter
at least.
It’s not even clear
if the woman wanted it.
She seems to have mourned her husband.
But the reality was
that when the king called
you answered
like it or not.
And now David
is condemned,
condemned
from his own mouth.
If a man who stole a sheep
deserved to be killed
how much more would he deserve it?
Especially when manslaughter
was involved.
And then we hear
God’s judgement,
God’s punishment of David,
and it all has to do
with the promise.
Remember the promise that God made when David wanted to build him a house, a temple? God promised
to build David a house, a house not of bricks and mortar
but a house of descendants.
But now David has gone
and undermined God’s gift,
David has sinned,
and there will be consequences.
To keep the analogy going, it’s as if God supplied the materials for the house, but David decided the framing wasn’t good enough
and went to another supplier.
And now God says, and you can her the sadness in God’s voice,
“I gave you everything that you needed. But you had to go out and buy that other framing.
And it’s not going to work. It’s going to fail,
And the whole house will be weaker.”
God won’t
renege on his promise.
But what David has done
is effectively said
that vows
and fidelity and loyalty
aren’t important,
or at least
not as important
as getting what you want
when you want it.
And of course, if that’s true for him, it’s true for his sons,
and wives,
and all those
who absorb
his values.
Making bad decisions,
what the Bible calls sin,
has consequences.
It’s one of those things that we learn as children,
about the consequences, apart from punishment, that are inevitable when we make bad decisions.
You touch a stove,
you’ll get burned.
You hit someone, they hit back, it hurts.
You get drunk, you have a hangover.
But as we get older we discover that the consequences
aren’t always as direct.
On the radio this week
people have been discussing Michael Vicks, the NFL player
who was convicted on dogfighting conspiracy charges.
He’s served his jail sentence.
But the big thing people are struggling with is,
should he be allowed back in the NFL?
Those in favor say, “Yes, he’s served his time.”
Those against say, “No, because he’s not an appropriate role model, and raises questions of team discipline.”
Should jail be the only consequence,
or should the consequences of his actions reach further into his life?
Whenever we discuss sin and consequences
we get tangled up in those sorts of questions.
Plus there’s the personal viewpoint.
Because it’s easy to say,
that person over there, they should pay the price for what they did.
But when it comes to us,
we want people to be lenient, to give us a chance.
And of course, then you add religion to the mix.
As Christians, we believe
that if we confess our sins,
God will forgive us.
That lifts an incredible weight
and burden from us.
But as the apostle Paul reminds us, that doesn't mean
that we can just go ahead and sin all the more, just to give God the opportunity
to forgive us more.
There will still be consequences,
the inevitable direct results of what we have done.
Way better
not to make the bad decisions in the first place. Which is why we have the ten commandments,
and many many other pieces of advice
about how to live as followers of Christ,
advice
that will help us not to make
so many
bad decisions.
But the reality is,
that try as hard as we will, sometimes we will mess up.
And when we do
if we confess our sins,
God will forgive us.
But
we’ll still have to deal
with the consequences.
Though even then
we hold before us the promise,
that God will be with us,
and God may even redeem those consequences
by bringing good
from them,
and the bigger promise
that at the end of time
everything will be redeemed,
everything healed,
this whole world will be perfect again
as it was created and intended to be.
So ask God for wisdom
in the decisions you make.
Look to scripture for guidance.
And when you do mess us,
ask God forgiveness,
for strength to bear the consequences,
and for grace to bring good from them.
And know that God
will forgive you,
and will be with you,
working for good in your life
and in the world at large.
© Raewynne J. Whiteley 2009