Absalom, Absalom, The Reverend David R. Williams, Pentecost X--Year B--August 10, 2006
 
Give us grace, O Lord, not only to hear your word with our ears, but also to receive it into our hearts and to show it forth in our lives; for the glory of your great name.  Amen.
 
A few minutes ago, we prayed the Collect for the day. “Grant to us, Lord, we pray, the spirit to think and do always those things that are right, that we, who cannot exist without you…”  “…We, who cannot exist without you…”
 
Do we pray this supplication from the depths of our hearts—or because it has been written for us?  “..We, who cannot exist without you…”
 
During the terrorism scare this past week of overseas flights between London and the United States, airports suddenly became places of chaos. New security rules were imposed.  Flights were delayed for hours.  Long lines grew as passengers awaited the enactment of new safety measures. Business travelers, tourists, families, children – no one was spared inconvenience.
 
In the words of a traveler from Massachusetts, a private investigator caught in a long delay at London’s Heathrow airport, “The ones I feel most sorry for are the kids.  I wish it was socially acceptable to throw yourself on the floor and scream at age forty, but it’s not.”
 
“We, who cannot exist without you, Lord.”
 
Consider the situation.  Thousands of travelers are suddenly inconvenienced by security measures to avert threatened, sudden disaster to many overseas airliners. The perpetrators of the near-miss disaster are caught before they can carry out the calamity.  These nihilists are part of an international group of terrorists determined to disrupt and reap havoc upon modern culture.
 
As the layers beneath the earth’s surface, each piece in the drama has its own history. A busy airport at the surface. New security restrictions at the next layer. A thwarted terrorist plot, next layer. Below, a disillusioned, destructive group, apparently a tribe of people seeking recognition and power. Then, ever more deep, a history of eons of dissension among and between differing cultures.  
 
“…We, who cannot exist without you…”
 
The incident of this past week did not begin in August, 2006.  We know the brokenness did not begin even on September 11, 2001.  As the commercial says, “This has been a growing problem,” maybe for a hundred, a thousand and more years.
 
The problem will not just go away.  One humanity despises another humanity so much that it will do anything, even self-destruct, in order to destroy the other. 
 
Picture two Biblical characters: King David and David’s son, Absalom. 
 
The relationship is very complicated.  After years of discord and war, David finds himself enmeshed in grief upon learning of the battlefield death of his adversary Absalom. “O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom!  Would I had died instead of you, O Absalom, my son, my son.”
 
As we understand, any death, especially a death of a close family member, may surface darkness from a long and layered personal history. We sometimes feel guilt, resentment and regret over the “done…and the left undone.”
 
Down the layers of history before the death of Absalom and after the loss of his first son, David had lost yet another son, Amnon. Amnon had assaulted his sister, and Absalom killed Amnon for his evil deed.  David cut off any relationship with Absalom.  Hurt and sadness turned to resentment and vindication for Absalom as he plotted to take over his father’s crown.  Absalom threatened but was no match for King David’s soldiers. 
 
“Deal gently for my sake,” David guiltily and hesitantly says to his soldiers as they go into battle against Absalom. 
 
David had not forgiven Absalom.  Absalom had not forgiven his father. 
 
“We, who cannot exist without you, Lord…”
 
“Love bade me welcome: yet my soul drew back, guilty of dust and sin,” begins the anthem by George Herbert.
 
“Why have you despised the word of the Lord?” God says to King David after an earlier indiscretion. “Why do you do what is evil in the Lord’s sight? You have done it secretly, I will raise up trouble against you before all Israel, and before the sun.”
 
David then confesses to Nathan, the Priest.  “I have sinned against the Lord.” 
 
“We, who cannot exist without you.”
 
“Love bade me welcome: yet my soul drew back, guilty of dust and sin.”
 
Relationships can of course become broken over the smallest of issues. Once broken, the wound grows along with the guilt and resentment. In the death of an adversary, the grief may reflect layers of deep, unresolved human emotions. How fragile is human relationship, and so easily fractured.
 
“Let all of us speak the truth to our neighbors,” Paul writes to a church community wrestling with the effects of fractured relationship. These Gentiles, Christians, pagans, Jews, Romans, soldiers and common folk are attempting a Godly transformation of family and friend.
 
“Love bade me welcome but my soul drew back…”
 
“We, who cannot exist without you…”
 
“Be angry but do not sin,” Paul says.  The negative emotions are o.k., Paul is saying.  “Maybe when the lines in the airport are a mile long and security takes forever, it is o.k. to thrash on the floor a bit – no matter what age.”
 
Paul adds, “Do not carry the emotions to the point of greed, vindication, resentment.  Let no evil talk come out of your mouths. Put away from you all bitterness and wrath and anger and wrangling and slander, together with all malice, and be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you.”
 
“Love bade me welcome.  I, the unkind, the ungrateful: Ah, my dear I cannot look on thee.  I am too full of sin,” writes Herbert.
 
“I have sinned against the Lord,” David confesses.
 
 After Sarah’s and my recent wedding of our daughter Lissa, a bill came from the venue of the wedding ceremony and reception – one of those ritualistic moments of truth for all parents, especially of brides. 
 
After calling the bookkeeper and discussing with her a few invoice issues, I say, “Thank you for sending this so promptly, answering my questions and clearing this up.    You have done a great job.”
 
There was a silence on the telephone.  The bookkeeper says, “I talk to many people every day. Most of the conversations are business-like and to the point.  Some people are very gripey.  But I have never been ‘thanked’ for sending a bill.  The events people may get thanked. The reservations folks might be thanked. But bookkeepers? Never.”
 
“Thank you,” she said,  “for your ‘thank you.’”
 
When you think about it, how many bookkeepers have any of us ever thanked? Bookkeepers seem always to be in a discerning, even adversarial position.
 
Jesus offers a new image of forgiveness, redemption and love to the disciples and to the Church. “I am the bread of life.  Whoever eats of this bread will live forever.”
 
We, who cannot exist without you, may be enabled to live through you and according to your will.
 
“You must sit down,” says Love, “and taste my meat, my bread, my essence.”
 
In this fractured world let us all sit and eat of this bread.
 
Amen.