Apparently God is too Lenient

In the trailer for The Gilded Age, one sister suggests that vengeance be left to the Lord. The other replies, "Not if we want it done properly. I often find the Lord is too lenient."

It's funny, and then it isn't, because most of us keep a version of that sentence handy. I talk about grace for a living, and I still want to be consulted before it's handed out, especially to someone who has hurt me. The readings this Sunday won't let me off that hook.

Isaiah starts gently. God sets a table for all peoples, with good food and good wine and enough to go around. Death is swallowed up. Tears are wiped from every face. If you have carried a grief long enough to get good at talking about it without crying, that promise is almost too much to hear. Here is a table where nobody needs you to hold it together, where you can sit down and be fed.

Then there's the phrase "all peoples," which is a stubborn one. It means the invitation goes out to everyone, including the person whose tears I would rather cross-examine. I want God to wipe away my tears. I'm less enthusiastic about God wiping away theirs.

Matthew will not make this easier. A king, a wedding banquet, a burning city, a guest thrown out over his clothes. It's one of the hardest parables we get, and I don't think the honest response is to soften it or to use it as a club. We'll sit with it on Sunday, along with a psalm most of us know by heart and a small, awkward piece of Paul's advice about getting along with people.

Before Sunday, I'd ask you to notice who your own "too lenient" is. I mean the person you hope God has a stricter policy for. You don't need to fix anything about that. Just bring them along in your head, because the table we're heading for has a way of seating people we didn't put on the guest list.

Come join us at Sts. Mary Magdalene & Martin this Sunday at 10:30, when I will be preaching.. Bring your hunger, and your grudge if you must.