Originally Preached September 1, 2002

Text: Matthew 18:15-20

Well, I finally caught him. The big one that – for so many years – kept getting away. My son Peter and I were down the lake a ways, flipping purple-colored, grape-flavored plastic worms into some weed patches. All of a sudden, this monster of the deep hit mine, and started to run with it. I hauled back, setting the hook, and the battle was on. He had it in his mind to go deep and bury himself in the weeds, and I had it in my mind to pull him up into that little Sears johnboat of ours with the 6-horsepower Johnson outboard, and eventually get him onto a plaque nailed onto a wall back at camp. And these two conflicting ideas – mine and that fish’s – expressed themselves in a loud whine as the drag on my fishing reel played out and the contest raged on.

But you know who won that battle.

Me!

I have pictures, you know! In fact, we posed a picture back at camp with me, the fish, my son Peter, and grandson Ryan. And that fish was almost bigger than Ryan! He was a dandy! And I was so proud!

But then I got to thinking about that largemouth’s family. The Mrs., and all the little ones that would come home from school that day only to learn that Pop was gone, the victim of some ruthless fisherman. And I thought about how, in future years, that fish family would probably all swim up to our end of the lake, and pass by our house, and look through the big picture window and see their daddy hanging on the plaque on a wall. Oh, all sorts of bleeding-heart-liberal thoughts slid through my mind.

And I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t keep him. So, even though it had been a good while since I’d caught him and he was laying pretty still inside the big Coca-Cola cooler next to the house, Pete and I picked him up and brought him down to the water. Had to give him a little CPR and some mouth-to-mouth, but soon enough he regained enough strength to pull himself out of my grip and slowly swim away. We checked the lake surface for the next couple of days to see if he’d turned belly-up, but there was no sign of him which was good. And back down the lake where I’d caught him, there were some little party hats and noisemakers floating around on the surface that seemed to indicate a homecoming celebration.

When Pete and I came by that spot in our boat the next day, I looked over at that patch of lily pads where I’d caught him. I remembered all the excitement of the catch, and about the meaning of his life and of mine. Then I found myself waxing poetic and silently offered that beautiful Mizpah benediction from Genesis 31:

“May the Lord watch between me and thee, while we are absent, one from the other.”

You probably didn’t notice it, but this Mizpah plays a central role in today’s Gospel lesson from Matthew 18. You see, when Jesus spoke those beautiful words in verse 20, that “where two or more are gathered together in my name, there I am in the midst of them,” he was actually paraphrasing that old Hebrew Mizpah.

Now to understand what Jesus was getting at, you have to know that the word Mizpah means watchtower. And the image that the Bible is trying to give us is this: two people – me and thee – and standing between them – like a watchtower – is the Lord! Do you get the picture? Me. Thee. The Lord…towering between us.

“May the Lord watch between me and thee…”

Or, as Jesus put it, “Where two or more are gathered in my name…there I am in between them.”

Now, let’s go a little deeper. This old Mizpah is not about what most of us think it’s about. It is not really a pleasant little benediction praying for God’s watchful care over us when we part company for a while – even if it involves a fisherman and a fish. No, this little Mizpah is about something else altogether.

Do you remember the story of Jacob? After cheating his twin brother Esau out of the family inheritance, Jacob has to get out of town in a hurry. So he goes to a faraway land to live with his unscrupulous uncle Laban. And Laban has a beautiful daughter named Rachel. Well, Jacob falls head over heels in love with Rachel and wants to marry her. Uncle Laban gives his blessing to the marriage, so long as Jacob first works for him for seven years. So Jacob works for seven years to get Rachel. And at the end of the seven years, the wedding day comes. Well, on the big day, Laban gets Jacob to have a little too much to drink and the next morning Jacob wakes up in his wedding bed only to discover that its not Rachel he’s married, but her older, homely sister Leah! Uncle Laban has tricked him! You talk about “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” being a funny story! This takes the cake!

So Jacob goes to Laban and complains. Laban says, “Hey, it’s not the custom in our country to let the younger girl get married before the older. You shoulda known that, so tough luck, pal!” But – Laban offers – if Jacob will work another seven years, he can have Rachel too! So Jacob agrees. And finally, Rachel is his. She must have been a pretty hot number, huh?

Well, that’s not the end of the story. Some years later, Jacob – still nursing the resentment of how his uncle cheated him – goes to Laban and says he wants to take his wives and children and return home. So they design a golden parachute for Jacob. As a reward for his long service, Jacob gets to exercise some stock options – literally. He gets some of Laban’s sheep and goats. And then, by some amazing talent Jacob had at animal husbandry, Jacob’s flock grows big and strong while Laban’s flock becomes small and weak. Laban sees that HE has been tricked now, and sets out to kill Jacob. So Jacob rents a U-Haul truck into which he puts his wives, children, goats and sheep, and hot tails it out of town. But finally, Laban catches up to Jacob at a rolling roadblock near all the construction on I-40. And the two men have it out.

“You cheated me over Leah and Rachel and all the years I had to work for you! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, and would kill you if I could!” says Jacob.

“Yeah? Well, you cheated ME out of the choice goats and lambs, and now I’ve got to hire Arthur Anderson to restate my earnings! I’d love to kill you, too!” says Laban.

“You cheated me first!” “No, you cheated ME first!” “Did not!” “Did too!” “Did not!” Did too!” “You’re the biggest jerk in the world!” “I know you are, but what am I?”

Well, this is obviously a family in distress. Sort of like some of our families! Jacob and Laban cannot agree on anything. They’ve both done things that make it impossible to trust the other. And they’d love to kill each other.

But they choose to take another course instead. Do you know what they do?

There in the desert, they agree to disagree. They acknowledge that they’ll probably never get along. And so they build a big pile of stones, almost as high as a watchtower. And as they walk away from each other to go their separate ways, this is what they say, “May the Lord WATCH between me and thee, while we are absent, one from the other.”

Genesis tells us that this watchtower they built – this Mizpah representing the presence of God – was erected as a buffer between these two extremely conflicted and estranged people. And this is how they described the meaning of the Mizpah in Genesis 31:52: “I will not go past this watchtower to your side to harm you, and you will not go past this watchtower to my side to harm me.”

This is what it means when you say, “May the Lord watch between  me and thee…”

Contrary to popular belief, some relationships can never be reconciled. Some injuries can never be completely healed. Some divisions can never be bridged. Some offenses can never be purged. At least, not on this side of heaven. And the Bible wants us to understand that.

A woman is battered by her husband, and it would be dangerous for her to go back to him. A drunk driver takes the life of your child, and you’ll never get over the pain or the rage. A marriage disintegrates to where one spouse cannot go on, and the other spouse is powerless to prevent it. A family member or friend hurts you, and keeps doing it over and over again. Your adult child makes bad decision after bad decision, and can’t or won’t face up to it and make the changes they need to make. Society oppresses you because you’re black, or poor, or handicapped, or old and it seems like society will never change.

Too often, Christian people live under the illusion that forgiveness means looking past the harmful realities of sick and broken relationships. We think we’re supposed to always “turn the other cheek” and let people off the hook. We think there’s a cure for everything. But there isn’t.  Not on this side of heaven. Sometimes the wounds are just too deep. That’s why Jesus offered us the words we are considering today in Matthew 18. When you think about them, they are a grace-filled response to the hurt we experience in life. So listen to how Jesus tells us to deal with people we can’t get along with:

First, if someone sins against you, go and tell them how you’ve been hurt. Do it privately, and respectfully. If he or she listens and is willing to make amends, you’ve regained a brother or sister.

But if not, take a second step. Ask other caring people to intervene. Maybe a counselor, or a pastor, or a small group of trusted friends from your church. Again, if the person hears what you’re saying and takes responsibility for the hurt they’ve inflicted, you’ve regained a brother or sister.

But if not…here’s a third strategy. Treat the person as a Gentile or tax collector. Now, people misinterpret this passage all the time, thinking it means to turn a cold shoulder to the offending party. But that’s not what Jesus meant. After all, do you remember how Jesus treated tax collectors and Gentiles? Well, Jesus treated them redemptively. Acknowledging their sin, Jesus nonetheless never lost sight of their dignity as persons, or of God’s will to win them over to God’s side. And Jesus tells us here that it is important to pray for such people in our lives.

And then, one more thing in the case of people to whom you can’t be reconciled…

Erect a watchtower between the two of you! Place Jesus between yourself and the other! “There I am in between you!”

A short while ago, I read about a man whose wife was among those killed in the September 11th terrorist attacks. She was at her desk on the 80th floor in one of the towers of the World Trade Center when the plane crashed into it. When he heard the news on the radio, he instinctively knew she was gone. But still, there was a glimmer of hope.

Like thousands of other family members of those who worked in the buildings, he spent the next several days walking the debris-filled streets around Ground Zero. Clutching her photograph in his hand, he went from station to station, hospital to hospital, shelter to shelter looking for someone – anyone – who might have seen her. As the hours and days dragged on, he found himself plummeting into a deep abyss of despair. The hurt was beyond description. The grief overwhelming. And the anger – deep, violent rage – consumed him.

One night, wandering the streets of New York, he went into a church to rest a while. There was a vesper service going on, and though he was too tired and too battered to participate, he remembered hearing the words of the Scripture read. It was Matthew 18:20. “…where two or more are gathered in my name, there I am…”

The words didn’t much matter to him as he left the church that night. But they came back to him hours later when rescue workers at Ground Zero uncovered in the wreckage of Building 6 an assembly of steel girders – fifty feet high, thirty feet wide – in the shape of a Cross. It was September 13th.

The next morning, he caught a glimpse of the Cross. Rising up above the rubble like a watchtower, it seemed to echo the words of the Scripture, “There I am…”

This man found strength in that Cross of steel girders. Whenever he saw it, he found himself pouring out his heart to Jesus. It was the only place he could go with his hurt, and his despair, and his raging anger.

The Cross, he says, did not change the outcome of his tragedy. But it somehow absorbed those dark things within himself that, left unchecked, could destroy him. And somehow, it gave him hope…to carry on…as a father…as a man…as a Christian.

May the Lord watch between me and thee…

It makes a difference where you cast your eyes when going through the trials of life. To see rubble and destruction and evil breeds only more rubble and destruction and evil.

But to see the glory of the Lord – standing like a watchtower between us and our tragedy – makes all the difference in the world!