REDEMPTION AND RELEVANCE

Text: Matthew 21:23-32








The parable in this reading is the first of three parables of judgment in this section of Matthew’s Gospel. And Jesus is prompted to tell this parable by the conversation - which is really more like an argument - that he has with the priests and elders. Jesus is not officially a rabbi – that is, he has not been designated by the Jewish authorities as a certified religious teacher. In our church we would call it “ordination”. Ordination doesn’t guarantee knowledge and insight and skill – but it does certify that the candidate has been trained and examined and found acceptable in those areas – and it does confer the authority of the church to speak on matters of doctrine. It’s a heavy responsibility, because we are all human and subject to error, and woe to the one who fails in that area! So we can understand that the chief priests and elders are concerned about this man Jesus who presents himself as a rabbi with authority. The really troubling thing for the religious authorities is that Jesus does speak with authority, but not with any authority they recognize. What do you do about someone who clearly has some kind of personal, individual authority, but who has not been given the official stamp of approval? I would think you wait around for awhile and watch and listen, because it could be an outsider who truly does have a form of authority – just not the usual kind. And this could be something quite unusual, something remarkable that hasn’t been seen before. Do we want to be so rigid, so afraid of anything new and different, that we risk missing something really important?

Well, the chief priests and the elders want to be that rigid and afraid. So when Jesus asks them a direct question, they fumble and mumble and finally say, “We don’t know.” And Jesus dismisses them as irrelevant.

But Jesus takes the opportunity to tell a story. It’s a very pointed story. The people who hear it can’t miss the meaning of it. The plot is quite simple: A man with two sons asks one of them to go and work in the vineyard. The son refuses, but later he changes his mind and goes to work. The man asks the second son and he agrees to go, but he doesn’t go. Jesus asks, “Which of the two did the will of his father?” The listeners say, “the first”. And then Jesus speaks his shocking paradox: “…the tax collectors and the prostitutes are going into the kingdom of God ahead of you.” This is Jesus’ usual radical leap of logic and the listeners are amazed. On what basis does he make this statement? On the basis of belief…on the basis of faith. When the tax collectors and prostitutes (or in other words, any ignorant and unclean sinners) believe the command to repent and believe in the kingdom, they are entirely acceptable to God and are welcomed into the kingdom. And on the same basis, when the chief priests and elders (or in other words, any conventional religious persons) refuse to repent and believe in the kingdom, they are excluded from the kingdom.
But what do we make of the two sons – the one who refuses to work and later does, and the one who agrees to work and fails to do so? In other words, is it better to be a jerk earlier than later? Well, apparently yes, it is. Because that’s repentance. To do the right thing after saying the wrong thing is better than to do the wrong thing after saying the right thing. It’s better to act right than to talk right. And what a temptation it is for all of us to talk the talk rather than walk the walk! Somehow we convince ourselves that it’s all right to look good in the eyes of others because they believe what we say about ourselves. For awhile, maybe we can even fool ourselves…but not for long. And after we’ve had some life-experience, we do begin to believe that it’s a great blessing to behave with integrity – that is, to try to be what we believe we should be. We come to a point where it’s not enough to have a good reputation in the eyes of others; it’s much more important to know that we are doing our best. I’m not talking about perfection; I’m talking about doing the best we know how to do, being honest about who we are and what we do, including our failures.

But it’s not so very simple as that. Because to do right, and especially to do right at all times and in all circumstances, is not a human characteristic. We are programmed to make mistakes, do wrong, and get into trouble. That’s the trouble with the chief priests and the elders: they believe in their own righteousness. They are like the second son in the parable: they agree to do right, but fail to do it. Therefore, all of us, chief priests, elders, tax collectors and everybody in between, need redemption. That’s a big word meaning we need someone to rescue us. But to be rescued we need to know we’re in trouble. That’s the advantage the tax collectors and prostitutes have over the chief priests and elders: the ignorant and unclean sinners know they’re in trouble.

I have to say I haven’t known any tax collectors but I’ve known a lot of prostitutes. For some years in the 1990s I worked for a ministry in Edmonton’s inner city, and they were people I saw every day. I’d say they were often ignorant, in the sense that they made a lot of bad choices. And they were certainly unclean, if you interpret that to mean in poor health because of their lifestyle. Most of them had Hepatitis B or C, many of them were HIV-positive, some of them had AIDS. They were addicted to alcohol and drugs and many of them had mental health problems. Many had problems from early childhood with abandonment, neglect and abuse. They lived degrading, brutal and dangerous lives. They disobeyed the law quite frequently. Most of them had been in jail. Would you believe me if I told you they were nice people? That they were courageous and kind, that they had a code of behaviour toward their peers which required them to be brave and faithful and steadfast? And they had developed a very strong sense of survival which meant they could detect hypocrisy and dishonesty at 100 yards. So those of us who were “straight”, as they called us, learned to keep quiet and watch and listen, because chances were that we’d say something stupid or dishonest and get called on it immediately, and dismissed as irrelevant.

I used to spend Thursday evenings at a place called Kindred House, a resource centre and safe house for women working as street prostitutes. One week, a friend from our church wanted to come with me. Phyllis showed up with a couple of new colouring books and a big box of crayons. I thought, “Oh, Phyllis, how will this go over? These are tough women!” But you know…those tough women grabbed those colouring books and those crayons and sat down and coloured pictures like little kids. They compared colouring styles and they put their names on the pages and hung them up on the fridge. It made you want to weep for the experiences they had missed as children, and for the simple joy they found in that childish activity. I developed a new respect for my friend Phyllis for the wisdom she had. To this day, I always take the opportunity to colour with my granddaughter, as a symbol of the innocence and childish pleasure that every child should have.

Those women had their strengths, but I’m not promoting the street lifestyle. I’m just saying that those who know they are sinners know they need to be rescued. And those who know they are sinners recognize true goodness when they see it. When you put repentant sinners and true goodness together, there is Jesus the Saviour. That’s what he’s about. We need to be sure we know that and be in that place of repentance and true goodness, so we aren’t dismissing ourselves as irrelevant.

FIRST AND LAST THINGS

Text: Matthew 20:1-16


This parable of Jesus is probably the most controversial of his stories. As he does with many of his other parables, he begins with “…the kingdom of heaven is like….” So we know he’s telling us how God operates. To start with, the setting for the parable is a vineyard, which is frequently used in the Bible as an image for God’s kingdom. And then he launches into this story about the workers in the vineyard, how some work 12 hours, some work nine hours, some work six hours, some work three hours, and some work one hour. And this is the catch – all of them get paid a full day’s wage. How can that be fair? And that’s exactly what the workers say who put in a full day. They grumble and complain to the owner of the vineyard, “These people worked only one hour and you’re paying them the same as we who worked all day in the heat.” In other words, “It’s not fair.” And they’re right; it’s not fair. What does Jesus say? “You received what we agreed upon – a full day’s wage. I choose to pay the others the same. Do you mind my being generous?” But of course, in their way of thinking, they have been wronged.

Wouldn’t we also agree that they have been wronged? Equal treatment, a day’s pay for a day’s work, fair’s fair, democratic principles…and all that. Fairness is a good principle. But sometimes another value supersedes fairness. In this case, generosity takes priority. Besides, as Jesus says, are those who worked longer hours hurt by the fact that others receive the same for less labour? Not really; they got what they bargained for. Being practical, perhaps those who worked one hour had stood around all day waiting for work and needed the full day’s wages in order to eat for a day. Nobody suggests that the wages were more than subsistence. So in that sense, perhaps Jesus was being fair – to make sure that each worker was able to eat an evening meal, maybe the only food he got that day.
If that is the case, we can say that whereas a superficial reading of the text suggests that Jesus is not being fair, in actual fact Jesus demonstrates a concern for justice in the matter of poverty and hunger. Is it fair to give food to the hungry even if they haven’t had to work for it? When we think about it, most of us would say yes. We would agree that everyone has a right to eat, even if they can’t work or can’t obtain work. In fact, the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations has in the last decade made a declaration about the basic human right to food. Each person, they declare, is entitled to access to safe and nutritious food. The World Food Summit, a meeting of nations and agencies, gave a mandate to the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights to define the rights related to food and to propose ways to implement and realize those rights.

Well, it might be easy to say there go those bleeding heart liberals, whining about giving people rights to things they haven’t worked for. I ask you, did you “work for” your good fortune in being born into a family that fed and cared for you well, and encouraged you to get a good education? Did you “work for” the good genes (G-E-N-E-S), or the good brain, or the good health you inherited? No, I don’t think so. So do you mind if someone else who wasn’t born into a supportive family or who didn’t inherit all those good things gets a bit of a break? When you think about it that way, I imagine you probably don’t mind.

What is this place called the kingdom of heaven that Jesus describes in these parables? In fact, there are ………Parables of the Kingdom, which indicates that it’s something he talked about a lot. First of all, it’s not a place, unless perhaps it’s heaven itself, and when we get there, maybe then we’ll know that it’s a place. On this earth, it’s a state of mind, a way of believing, thinking and acting. It’s also a community of faith, the gathering of believers, the followers of Jesus. And there are things that it is not: it’s not an exclusive club of people who have passed some religious test; it’s not a group of achievers on the moral high road; it’s not the Olympic sport of who can keep the most rules. The Pharisees were the winners at that game, and Jesus condemned them for it.

When it comes right down to it, we understand the kingdom of heaven to be not a place, not a right way of thinking, not an achievement of any person or any group, but it’s a condition of the heart. There is a wonderful chapter in the book of Romans - chapter 10 - where the Apostle Paul outlines the difference between the Law and the Gospel. He says “Moses writes concerning the righteousness that comes from the law, that ‘the person who does these things will live by them.’” That means that if you choose to live by the law – if you insist that keeping the moral and social and religious rules is the way to heaven – you will be judged by those rules, and woe to you if you fail to keep them. But Paul goes on to say, “…the righteousness that comes from faith [that is, the Gospel of Jesus Christ] says ‘The word is near you, on your lips and in your heart.’” (Roman 10:8) In other words, Jesus Christ himself, the Word of God, lives within those who believe – and Jesus described that condition as “the kingdom of heaven…within you.” So don’t be too quick to judge anybody – others or yourself – because you don’t know what is the condition of another person’s heart; if you’re honest, you probably don’t even entirely know the condition of your own heart. Only God knows that, and God isn’t telling anybody. That’s the danger of fundamentalism – that fundamentalists claim to know what’s in God’s mind. I heard a commentary the other day on the religious views of Sarah Palin, the Governor of Alaska who is the Republican vice-presidential candidate in the American election. There are people who are concerned that her fundamentalist religious views might be a problem if she becomes vice-president, and even more so if John McCain became president and dies in office, because then she will be the President of the most powerful nation on earth – the “leader of the free world”, the commentators said. And someone who has fundamentalist religious views believes they know the mind of God. Such a person takes a dualistic view of the world: that means they believe everything comes down to a conflict between good and evil – “black and white” thinking, you might say. And how does that work out if the leader of the most powerful nation on earth thinks in such simplistic terms? We might well be afraid of that kind of thinking: define the enemy as anyone who doesn’t think like we do, demonize everyone who is not like us, destroy those who oppose us. The commentator said we could be “at war forever” with that kind of leadership. Not a happy prospect.

And on the other hand, we have Jesus the Saviour of the world, who does not make such categorical, simplistic judgments. Instead, in today’s parable we see him as thoughtful, kind, generous and careful about the claims and the rights of others. And that raises a point about human rights. In our day we have so many concerns about an individual’s or a specific group’s human rights that we often disregard that individual’s or specific group’s responsibilities. I don’t think that was Jesus’ concern. He was quick to point out responsibility – and the Christian Gospel, even though it bestows many gifts, given abundantly by God, also bestows huge responsibility – not for earning God’s gifts, because gifts cannot be earned – but for service to others. Jesus concludes this parable with the radical statement “…the last will be first, and the first will be last.” Does that frighten you? Does that sound as if God is into depriving us of everything in this life in order to make us holy? In one sense, yes. God wants us to put material and earthly things in perspective. In another sense, no. God wants to give us all the privileges and benefits of the kingdom of heaven. In the kingdom of heaven, we don’t belong to ourselves; we belong to God. Our lives and our hearts and our energy and our possessions and all that we are and have belong to God. We are servants, with no rights except to serve God and all those others whom God loves. So never mind your “right” to anything; focus on the privilege of serving God and others, and on their “right” to have what they need. God will see that we have what we need to live as people for others.

LOVE THROUGH FORGIVENESS

Text: Matthew 18:21-35

In last week’s Gospel reading, Jesus talked about resolving conflict. This week he’s talking about forgiveness. I guess it follows, doesn’t it? We agree on a strategy, we stop fighting, and ultimately the anger and violence are replaced by peace and kindness. That’s the progression from conflict to peace. But we must remember that we may resolve conflicts, but forgiveness doesn’t automatically happen. We can arrive at a stand-off, we can declare a cease-fire, we can draw up peace agreements, and those things may temporarily resolve the conflict. But they don’t guarantee forgiveness. What guarantees forgiveness? I think the answer to that question is that Jesus guarantees forgiveness. That’s a simplistic approach and we need to be careful about simplistic approaches. Do you know the story about the student who was a fervent Christian who wrote on the blackboard in the classroom, “Jesus is the answer”? And some smart character came along and wrote, “Yes, but what are the questions?”

So we understand that Jesus teaches us to forgive, that forgiveness is necessary for true peace among us, and that forgiveness doesn’t happen easily. And in the Gospel story we hear today, Peter thinks he is going to impress Jesus with his generosity, “Should I forgive…as many as seven times?” And Jesus deflates Peter’s ego pretty quickly: “No – seven times is nothing. How about 77 times?” Some other versions of this verse say “70 times 7” which is 490. We understand by this that Jesus isn’t counting. What he means is that the number is infinite: there is no end - there is no limit - to forgiveness.

And to illustrate this story, Matthew the Gospel-writer includes a parable. The parable is an extreme example of what Jesus intends to teach about forgiveness: it’s a radical demand that Jesus demonstrates himself, and demands of his followers. So don’t think you can be a Christian when you don’t practice forgiveness…I would say that the willingness to forgive, and the radical practice of forgiveness are the marks of a Christian. You’ll maybe say, “Oh, no, the mark of a Christian is love – you can’t be a Christian without love.” And that’s true. But the quality of love is characterized by forgiveness. Paul says in I Corinthians chapter 13, the chapter on love: “Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things”. When you forgive, you must bear the pain of someone’s sin against you, you must believe that change and restoration are possible, you must hope for the grace of God to work in the person who has done you wrong, you must continue to endure the burden of wrong done to you without retaliating. If that doesn’t describe forgiveness, I don’t know what does.

The parable is the story of the unforgiving servant. There are three episodes: the king and his servant; the servant and another servant; and again, the king and his servant. One of the extremes in the parable is the size of the debt the servant owes the king; it’s huge, virtually unpayable. The servant owes the king more than he can ever pay. The only recourse is for the servant to be sold into slavery along with his family. They will spend the rest of their lives working off the debt, living in abject misery. And chances are, the debt will still not be paid off. How can this possibly be resolved? Only through the mercy of the king. The servant begs for consideration, and the king chooses not to insist on payment of the debt. The king simply cancels the debt. He forgives the servant.

Second episode: the same servant is owed a very small debt by one of his fellow servants. The debtor begs for patience, promising to pay the debt, which is presumably possible, since it’s a small amount. But the creditor has no patience, no mercy, and condemns the debtor to a prison sentence. Somehow the creditor forgets that he has been shown great mercy by the king, and refuses to extend the same mercy to his fellow servant. Seems hard to understand, doesn’t it? Except when we think that this is exactly the way we often behave ourselves. There is a disconnect between the forgiveness we have received and the forgiveness we offer to others.

Third episode: the other servants report to the king the refusal of the servant to forgive his fellow servant, and the cruelty with which he treats the other person. The king is very angry; he punishes the unforgiving servant by insisting that he pay off all his own debt. In other words, the king withdraws the forgiveness he has previously shown and holds the servant responsible for his whole debt, impossible as it may be to repay it during the servant’s lifetime. We know that this parable is a picture of how God operates in the kingdom of heaven.

But to back up a bit: what does it mean to say that Jesus guarantees forgiveness? I think it means several things. First, it means that Jesus demonstrates forgiveness: he shows that it can be done. He clearly and publicly forgives those who torture and kill him. Most of us cannot do what he did, but we cannot miss the teaching. We must forgive. Second, it means that he makes it possible for us to do what he does. We may not be able to endure crucifixion, but we can endure in the same spirit those trials which come to us, trusting that God will not give us more than we can handle, and allowing the Spirit of Christ to work in us so that we may be true witnesses for God’s kingdom. Thirdly, he does for us what we cannot do for ourselves: lifts up the burden of weakness and sin so that our witness is clear and authentic. In other words, Christ living in us enables us to be more than we might be under our own power.

This is not just highflown spiritual talk. This is the experience of Christians through the ages. And it’s not just for heroes of the faith, though there are certainly many of them in Christian history. It’s for the ordinary Christian, trying to incorporate the promises of God in everyday life. Here are a few examples from my own experience.

On numerous occasions in my life when I’ve been in conflict with someone, I’ve tried to make peace with that person. What I noticed several times is that when the conflict is over and some understanding is reached, it’s not long before I cannot remember what the conflict was about. I have a good memory, and a long memory, and I don’t easily let go of things. But under those circumstances, I am not able to remember the substance of the conflict. I think that is the work of God’s Spirit, bringing about forgiveness where individuals are willing to come to an understanding. The Spirit does what we cannot do ourselves.

Another example: when we lived on our farm east of Edmonton, we belonged to a rural Lutheran church. They were Lutheran pietists, those people, and in my life growing up in the United Church in British Columbia, and attending various churches in the Ottawa Valley in Ontario and urban areas around Edmonton, I’d never met people like them. A pietist is a rather strict, conservative Christian person, more than a little uptight, tending to be judgmental, hard on everybody, including themselves. My family is English, and English people are pretty forthright. They say what they’re thinking. Through my experience in that rural church, after many years I began to understand passive-aggressive behaviour – that a person can say one thing and mean another and it all seems perfectly logical – to them. And that you can be roaring mad for a hundred years about a situation that doesn’t exist any more. I thought I had a long memory….But they are great people: so steady and faithful and serious – a little lacking in humour, maybe, but good people. Well, we went to that church and it was rather a traumatic experience. I’ll spare you the details – but we came to a parting of the ways. Like a lot of conflicts in the church, a lot of it was the fault of the pastor. We told him what we thought and left. Some of you may know how painful it is to leave the church. It leaves a big gap in your spiritual life, your emotional life, your social life. And we couldn’t find another church where we were comfortable – they were all Lutheran pietists! I remember going to talk to Steve Kristenson, who was pastor of Messiah Lutheran Church in Camrose at the time – he was later bishop of this synod – and when I complained about the pietists, he said he was a pietist, for heaven’s sake! I know now that being a pietist isn’t the worst thing in the world. But I felt betrayed by them at that time. Well, another Lutheran pietist, Pastor Arnold Hagen, was the interim pastor in the local congregation for a couple of years, and he used to visit us every few months. One thing you can say about the pietists is that they are serious about pastoral work: they’ll visit you even if you don’t want to see them! Well, after a couple of years when we’d decided to move to Edmonton before I needed to be committed to the mental hospital, Pastor Hagen came to see us again. He said the congregation wished to invite us to a service of farewell. Would we come? We really had nothing against any of those people, and some of them we liked very much, so we said we’d come. And we did. We sat in the back row, and when the president of the congregation said they’d like to make a presentation to us, Lorne poked me with his elbow and I had to go up to receive it. When I turned and faced the congregation, I saw that half of them were in tears. I don’t know what I said, but it was something about love being expressed in forgiveness. So we remember that congregation with great affection, even if they are still pietists, even if they have a hard time recognizing a female pastor, and even if our kids have some rather bitter memories of old pietist schoolteachers. But that’s another story. None of that matters now, since we know what is in their hearts – love expressed through forgiveness. None of us are perfect; all of us need mercy; all of us have an obligation to be merciful to others.

PAX CHRISTI

Text: Matthew 18:15-20

Jesus is dealing with the most difficult issue in the life of the church – conflict among members. And at this point in New Testament history, there ISN’T a church – just a group of disciples along with crowds of people who are interested in hearing what Jesus has to say. But wherever there are people, there is conflict. And we know from stories in the New Testament that there is certainly conflict in the early church, even before it is fully formed. So we shouldn’t be surprised when there is conflict among us.

The most useless approach for people in the Christian church is to say “We are Christians; we shouldn’t be in conflict with one another.” Yes, we’re Christians, but we’re also human. A more realistic approach is to say, “We are human; it’s inevitable that we will sometimes be in conflict with one another.” The most useful approach is to find effective ways of dealing with conflict. And in the Gospel reading today, Jesus points out some effective ways.

The first one is to determine the source of the conflict. Jesus says, “if another member…sins against you…” Be sure that this is the case – that it’s not simply that you dislike the other person, or that you’re guilty of something yourself that you are trying to avoid facing. And this isn’t easy. The easiest thing is to blame someone, even if that person is not actually guilty of wrongdoing. Secondly, when you are sure that the problem began with that person, speak to that person alone. If the matter can be resolved between the two of you, no one else needs to know about it or be involved. But if not, the third approach is to take one or two other people with you for witnesses. For witnesses to hear the evidence, and wise persons to weigh the evidence, not as goons to overpower the guilty party. Be sure that you’re not simply ganging up on the person. It requires careful thought – something that we have a hard time doing when we are angry or hurt. If the person still is not willing to listen and change behaviour, the congregation should be informed. If the person won’t listen to the congregation, then that person should be asked to leave the congregation.

It sounds drastic, doesn’t it? How often do we carry out these instructions? Not very often. We tell ourselves, “We’re Christians; we shouldn’t be in conflict with one another.” And I want to add that in my experience, it’s never that crystal-clear who is guilty. In fact, I would say that usually it’s not just one person who is guilty. Both sides, or perhaps we should say, all sides – because there are often more than two – may be guilty of various behaviours that cause conflict. All the more reason for serious thinking and careful action. All the more reason for humility in dealing with broken relationships.

A year ago I was asked by the bishop to be on an investigating committee for the Synod. This is part of the procedure we use to deal with conflict in congregations. There were four of us on the committee – two clergy, two lay people. The problem was in a congregation where a lay person who was very unhappy was causing trouble for the pastor and for the church council. People were fed up with this member whom they saw as creating difficulty for the whole congregation. They finally took action to “excommunicate” the unhappy member. That person appealed to the bishop with a complaint about being treated unjustly. The bishop doesn’t take sides; when a formal complaint is made, the bishop is obligated to see that it is investigated. So the committee was formed and we had to read all the minutes and interview the people involved. Our initial response was to condemn the person – as clergy we have all dealt with difficult members, and the lay people on the committee have been leaders in their congregations. The easiest thing would have been to conclude that yes, this person is a menace and we should affirm the decision of excommunication.

But…there was a person on the committee who has a lot of experience in human resource work in large organizations. This person is also a very clear thinker. She began asking pointed questions, and we had to look more carefully at the evidence. We became convinced that the member in question, who was undoubtedly a difficult person, had not been justly treated. The frustration and anger of members of the congregation and council had led them to do things which were not justified. They had treated the person badly. And in being treated badly, the person had reacted badly and had also behaved badly. The goal in dealing with conflict is not to kick out the people who give us grief; the goal is to restore relationships and bring people back into the community. Jesus gives us responsibility for the atmosphere of our Christian communities: when we force people onto the defensive and back them into a corner, we are not dealing constructively with conflict. He tells us that we will be held responsible in eternity for the people we alienate and treat badly; likewise, we will be rewarded in eternity for the people we work to restore. Those are sobering thoughts, are they not?

All this seems just about humanly impossible. How can we overcome our tendency to line up support for our point of view and attack the people who don’t like us or whom we don’t like? How can we think clearly enough when we’re angry and hurt to be sure we don’t behave unjustly toward those who oppose us? Well, I’d say it is humanly impossible. Perhaps that’s why Jesus makes the promises contained in the Gospel reading: “if two of you agree on earth about anything you ask, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven.” And the other promise is “where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.” What can we do about difficult conflicts? We can gather in prayer and ask for what we believe is God’s will in situations of conflict…not that our so-called enemies will be squashed like bugs, but that those with whom we are in conflict may be restored to the Christian community. That’s a prayer God willingly answers. Because when we gather in Jesus’ name to ask for God’s intervention in trouble, Jesus promises to be present with us. In that case, he is able and willing to bring the forces of heaven to bear on the situation. And it will be resolved.

Here’s a story from a woman in Erie, Pennsylvania who is active in the world-wide Catholic peace movement. The movement is called “Pax Christi” – the peace of Christ.
Pax Christi…was born in a prison – and not just any prison, but a prison filled with men whose destination was the concentration camp at Buchenwald.

It was World War II, and France was occupied by Germany. Herded together in a French state prison were French resistance fighters and others, including priests and religious, who had harbored hunted Jews. One of the resistance fighters asked a fellow prison, Bishop Theas, to celebrate Mass.

Bishop Theas was in prison for nonviolent resistance. He had condemned, through a pastoral letter, the persecution of the Jews, the deportation of French workers to Germany for forced labour, and the reprisal destruction of whole villages.

The prison was seething with hatred and anger. Only five weeks before an entire nearby village had been massacred. There, in retaliation for the killing of German occupation troops, the French inhabitants were herded into the village church and the church set on fire.

Bishop Theas agreed to celebrate the prison Mass. He chose for his homily this theme: Love your enemy. He read to these brave, honorable, courageous French freedom fighters what they least expected: “Love your enemies, do good to them that hate you, and pray for those that persecute you.”

Some of the prisoners interrupted the bishop. “The gospel is terrible,” they said. “This gospel is impossible to live.” Theas replied, “I cannot preach anything to you but what Jesus said, ‘Love your enemies.’”

Then he led the prisoners in the prayer that Jesus taught. When he came to the line, “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us,” he paused and added one word – “Germany”.

There was a moment of silence and then an explosion of grief and anger. “No, no,” the prisoners shouted. Someone screamed, “But they’ve killed our children.” We can only imagine the terrible pain and anguish. But Bishop Theas gently insisted that this was necessary. He repeated the word – “Germany”. Many could not finish the prayer. Some did. All understood, perhaps for the first time, the terrible implications of the words that Jesus taught us to pray.

Theas was finally released from prison, but the incident altered his life. Because of it he determined to devote the rest of his days to reconciliation efforts between France and Germany. When French lay Catholics organized a prayer crusade in behalf of the German people, Theas blessed the effort. This prayer crusade was the beginning of Pax Christi.[1]



[1] Mary Lou Kownacki, A Monk in the Inner City: The ABCs of a Spiritual Journey, Orbis Books, Maryknoll, NY: 2008, pp. 108-109