“My heart is moved by all I cannot save:
So much has been destroyed
I have to cast my lot with those who, age after age,
perversely, with no extraordinary power, reconstitute the world.”
This poem by Adrienne Rich comes to me as the Eagle Creek fire continues to burn nearly unchecked in the Columbia River Gorge. Like so many others I am grieving the destruction of our forests, the eradication of habitat, the terror unleashed for humans and animals trying to escape the smoke and flames. Within this horrifying scene are those ordered to evacuate their homes as well as those placed on alert who must prepare to leave at a moment’s notice. I see anxiety in the faces of those being interviewed by reporters and I think of the 800,000 young people across our country who have been placed on an even more devastating alert. They may be deported to countries they don’t remember, whose language and culture they may not know, for reasons that are baffling and beyond their control. Unlike people in the path of Hurricanes Harvey and, Irma or Jose, those facing the devastating fire in the Gorge as well as the children and young adults facing deportation know their personal disaster could have been averted except for the foolish or callous choice of one individual—a boy of 15 in one case and a man playing to his political base in another. One individual choice, one decision, can have such far-reaching, devastating consequences on the lives of millions—of trees, plants, animals, humans—on the fabric of communities large and small.
We have such difficulty talking about ‘sin’ in progressive circles these days. It has become one of those words that makes us flinch. It has been used to judge, condemn, punish and exclude—a far different approach than Jesus outlines in Matthew’s Gospel today. It is one thing to hold a person accountable for mistakes in an attempt to foster compassion or ethical maturity. It is another to punish someone to make them suffer for the harm they’ve done, the law they’ve broken or that someone has broken. The word for that is revenge.
But Scripture also warns against turning a blind eye. We are in this majestic soup of God’s Creation together and we are responsible both to and for one another as a result. It is often hard for us to understand how our unloving actions do actual harm to the larger community in which we live. Sometimes it takes the heartless action of a public figure or one devastating decision by a teenager to show us that every choice we make has consequences for good or ill. Whatever creates a tear in the social fabric damages the world. Whatever fosters hatred, anger or discord in the public sphere we call ‘ social sin’. Both our individual and collective choices are at fault.
Paul tells us there is no debt “except the debt that binds us to love one another. Love never does any wrong to the neighbor, whether that neighbor is the forest, the animals and people that live there, leaders who promote malicious policies, or a misguided child that burns the place down. How do we handle that debt of love? Matthew offers a process leading to reconciliation as he relates Jesus’ words to the disciples. Step one: talk to the person who has made the mistake. If they are able to hear you and take responsibility for the harm they have done, then healing can begin. If that doesn’t work, the person won’t listen, gets defensive or refuses to see the error, then take one or two people with you to talk to the person. The idea is to help them see the damage caused by their actions, not to blame or shame them, but so they can mend their ways, heal the breach, and reweave the tapestry of the community. If that approach doesn’t work, refer the matter to the community as a whole. Harm done between individuals affects the entire community. It tears a hole in the fabric of the family and undermines the truth of who we are—the one body of Christ, the one body of creation, the one body of the family of God.
I know from experience, and perhaps you do too, that when there is conflict between any two family members the entire family suffers. The conflicts we are witnessing within our national family today are heart-wrenching and produce anxiety in all of us. We KNOW when something is wrong. We KNOW when we are not in right relationship. We are told by a culture at war with itself that we can punish our way to stability and destroy our way to wholeness. But the love-debt we owe one another doesn’t work that way. Jesus asks us to mend those frayed strands of connectedness with each other to re-establish on earth the image of God that we are—as individuals, yes—but as a family too. We are indebted to the LOVE that created us, and we repay that debt by learning, however slowly, to do no harm, to do no wrong to our neighbor who is our sister, our brother, a precious expression of God in our midst.
Everything we are experiencing in our world today is a lesson leading us toward the realization that LOVE is the ONLY LAW. Learning this lesson is a slow and painful process. We need each other to remind us and challenge us to be the best lover we can possibly be. So we gather in prayer to help us remember we aren’t alone in this mess. Through our experiences with disaster and through our prophets and poets God raises our awareness and helps us to see.
“My heart is moved by all I cannot save:
So much has been destroyed
I have to cast my lot with those who, age after age,
perversely, with no extraordinary power, reconstitute the world
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