Private Anniversaries
Matthew 18: 21-35
A Sermon by the Reverend Odette Lockwood-Stewart
Epworth United Methodist Church

May Sarton once wrote that childhood is a place as much as a time in one’s life. The place for me is the San Fernando Valley, that conglomeration of communities north of the city of Los Angeles.

It was there, at the tender age of eight years that I learned the power and the pleasure of private anniversaries. A “private anniversary” is the name I’ve given to a date or an incident that becomes fixed as a secret point of reference for future events and relationships.

My father offered to take my younger sister Wendy and me to a movie for the first time in our lives: a new Walt Disney film, “Toby Tyler: Or Ten Years with the Circus.” This was a rare treat and a big adventure. There was a line forming outside the Reseda Walk-In Theater when we arrived, but no parking space. Dad dropped us off against our will to stand in line while he parked the car.

We were left alone, in public, and we were frightened. We waited and waited, but there was no sign of Dad coming around the corner. This was not at all unusual. Dad often disappeared from home and family to slack his thirst. But the line was moving, you see, and we were afraid that we might reach the front of the line with no money! We had been shamed in church and in school for lack of money and what it could buy. Wendy asked me what would happen….. “Will we get into trouble? Will we get arrested?” “Of course not!” I scoffed. But in my heart I knew we were doomed to be jailbirds.

When we moved up to the front of the line, approaching the ominous box office window, Wendy begged me to retreat to the end of the line, rather than risk being caught with no money. We did this three times, until, finally, our father returned…just in time to hear the man announce that the show had sold out!

Dad was angry, and couldn’t understand why it took us so long to get to the front of the line. Wendy and I were silent on the trip home. But later, in the privacy of the bedroom we shared, I handed down my judgment and proclaimed the historic point of reference this day would become.

I told my sniffling sibling that it was her fault we didn’t get to see the movie, that I could tell Dad and get her into big trouble, and that she owed me plenty to make up for my not telling on her. I further told her that if, on my thirteenth birthday (five years from that date) I remembered to say the world “Toby Tyler” to her first, then she would owe me the staggering sum of $5, no matter how long it would take her to raise it. If she remembered to say it first, then I would forfeit my legitimate claim upon her and her future resources.

Now this bit of family lore does not reflect anything more than a cruel childhood deed and sibling extortion, but it illustrates the power of a “private anniversary.”

For five years those two words, “Toby Tyler” became a symbol for pain and imperfection we shared and my inability to take responsibility for my actions. For five years, “Toby Tyler” became a signal to Wendy of my power over her in our relationship. For five years the secret threat of punishment, exposure or liberation was alive and well in the title of a Disney film.

I believe we all carry within us private anniversaries – dates, holidays, times, places, words, memories, that trigger a response that comes from long ago, but feels as fresh as yesterday. Some are anniversaries of happy times, and these fill us with secret pleasure and gratitude. Some are painful and these fill us with aches, flashes of anger, sorrow or fear. We all carry within us private anniversaries.

Nine-eleven. Today is another anniversary … hardly private. But 9/11 is a number/title that has become part symbol, part rallying-cry. 9/11 is used and abused to recall personal tragedy and to remember extraordinary heroism. 9/11 is used to assign global blame … and provide justification for an incredibly wide range of policies and priorities that may or may not in fact be related to the tragic events of this now-historic date. What do we do with 9/11?

Katrina … a lovely … graceful name … is now forever linked as well to the horrors of the gulf-coast hurricane. Katrina … becomes a cry for human solidarity and compassion … Katrina becomes a reminder of nature’s awesome power … Katrina brings a caution about the chosen locations of some human settlements … Katrina carries a call for a fearless examination of policies and practices that now seem to be leaving the most vulnerable as those most severely victimized.

Voices from every area of public and private life are offering observations and assessments in the still fresh wake of Hurricane Katrina. Jim Wallis wrote, “As a direct result of Katrina and its aftermath, and for the first time in many years, the media are reporting on poverty, telling Americans that New Orleans had an overall poverty rate of 28% (84% of them African-American), and a child poverty rate of almost 50% - half of all the city's children! … Ironically (and some might say providentially) the annual U. S. Census poverty report came out during the Hurricane's deadly assault showing that poverty had risen for the fourth straight year with 37 million Americans stuck below the poverty line - and they were the ones most stuck in New Orleans.”

As you heard, in the next days, weeks, months and years there will be tangible ways to respond to this unspeakable suffering. But beyond efforts of relief, and beyond the tasks of restoration and resettlement … as memories are crystallized and as long-term lessons are learned … the question will linger, what do we do with Hurricane Katrina?

We remember public events … public anniversaries. We take them on alongside our purely personal experiences. And which anniversaries we claim, and remember, and retain informs and transforms who we are and helps shape who we will become.

United Methodist clergy colleague and artist Wes Yamaka designed a lithograph of what he said was an ancient Chinese proverb that said simply, “Unless we change our direction, we are likely to end up where we are going.”

This morning’s scripture reading from Matthew’s Gospel is another informing and enlightening story … Jesus’ parable of the unforgiving servant. Eugene Lowry retells the story this way …

The king looks at the bottom line on the ledger sheet, and says, "Servant, it says here you owe me a lot of money."
"Yes, Sir."
"You owe me ten thousand talents."
"Yes, Sir."
"I want my money."
"Yes, Sir."
"I want my money now."
"Oh yes, Sir. Uh, no sir. I mean, I don't have ten thousand talents."

The king turns to the aides who brought in the book and they begin a discussion about selling this man, his wife and children into slavery, and disposing of their personal property to recoup what little they can of the huge debt. When the king turns around, he finds the servant down on the carpet on his knees.

The servant looks up at the king and says, "Sir, have mercy on me. Have mercy, and I will pay you everything. Give me a little time." You know what the king did. He did better than just give him a little time. He reached into that ledger book, took hold of the page, and ripped it out. He ripped it into shreds, turned to the servant on his knees, and said, "I forgive you the debt. You are now free and clear. Go in peace."

What a transforming moment … talk about your "private anniversaries!" You'd think the debt-forgiven soul would be so overcome with gratitude that he'd convert the moment of forgiveness into his own life of mercy … but no! For him the "private anniversary" simply was a second chance for consolidation of his own power … a transforming moment missed … a gracious moment abused.

As we always are reminded … we see here once again … It's not just what happens to us … It's what we do with It. You remember the way Dag Hammarskjold said it, “We are not permited to choose the frame of our destiny … but what we put into it is our own.”

Peter had initiated the conversation with Jesus with what he figured was a bold offer … “If another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive … As many as seven times?” Well, three was custom … so Peter was being incredibly progressive. Peter was showing off a little bit … illustrating his generous spirit. But Jesus said … stop counting! God’s forgiveness is of a scale too large to count … just live that way.

Forgiveness must become a practice -- a commitment -- that is to be sustained and renewed each day throughout our lives. It is not a single action, feeling or thought. It is an ever-deepening friendship with God and with others. Peter asks how generous he should be, yet he is still asking about limits. He's thinking quantitatively while Jesus answers qualitatively -- with the offer of limitless forgiveness. This is what God is like. This is the life-embracing, all-encompassing mercy God offers.

The anniversaries we need to hold are the ones that remind us of the love we have received and the grace we have to offer … The milestones that empower us will be those that help us to recall the breadth and depth of God’s mercy.

So, day by day, year by year … we ponder, What has happened to us? What do we choose to remember?

What do we do with the lessons we have learned?

What are the public events you remember, and celebrate, and use to order your understandings?

And what are your “private anniversaries?” … that help define your understanding of yourself?
How do your “anniversaries” help you to live?

It’s worth a thought.