“THE LANYARD”

 

 

A post-homiletical discourse delivered by the Rev. Dr. James R. Beebe

Rector, St. Patrick’s Church, Incline Village, Nevada, March 7, 2010

 

 

     Jesus was big on repenting.  When you read Mark, for instance, you’ll find that the very first words coming from Jesus’ mouth are, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.”  

 

     It’s the very word hardcore preachers use when they rant and rail from the pulpit:  “You’d better REPENT or else!  You don’t know what kind of God you’re dealing with here!”   Unfortunately, “repent” has a lot of useless baggage attached to it – things like having to feel like a lowly slug and be really, really sorry.  And the situation is complicated by the fact that people don’t really sin any more – they make mistakes.

 

     When a judge requires a convicted felon to apologize to the victim’s family, can we be certain that the felon is, indeed, remorseful?  Or is he faking it and merely regretting  what he did?  He’s being remorseful when he feels bad about the pain he’s caused the victim and her family.  He’s being regretful when he feels bad about getting caught.  [William Ian Miller]  It’s regret – not remorse – you feel when you gamble and lose.  And it’s regret – not remorse – you feel for things you got caught at, but would do again if you thought you could get away with them.

 

     So, as you can see, not every “I’m sorry” is created equal.  And this is where it all gets so confusing.  [Miller]  Take the case of Larry, for example.  Not thinking, Larry darts out between two parked cars into the street and is hit by a car moving down that street.  Larry is flipped head over heels, but miraculously pops up in haste to assure the driver that he’s all right. 

 

     He begs the driver’s forgiveness, but the driver, in shock, is himself shaking and apologizing and begging forgiveness from Larry.  Now, both Larry and the driver are completely sincere – Larry for causing the accident and the driver for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Everybody knows why Larry is apologizing.  After all, it was his impulsive running into the street that caused the driver to feel bad.  But why is the driver apologizing? 

 

     It’s not logical -- clearly the accident wasn’t his fault at all.  To answer that, imagine for a moment what would happen if the driver didn’t apologize.  An observer would be tempted into thinking that, at some level, the driver meant to hit Larry.  So the driver, rather than repenting of an intentional harm, was merely acting to prevent others from suspecting his motives.

 

     [Miller]  Then there’s the kind of repenting that occurs after someone does something wrong in the heat of passion.  It might go something like, “I am SO sorry – I don’t know what got into me.  You see, I mixed drinks with my medications, and it made me go bonkers; that isn’t like me at all.”  Sounds pretty good, until you realize that it’s as much an excuse as an apology, a sidestepping of responsibility by blaming some fictional self who just happened to be occupying your body at the time.

 

     You can see how complicated all of this is.  Repenting is not regretting and may or may not include remorse.  It’s not a pre-emptive attack to keep others from suspecting your motives.  And it’s not making excuses.  Instead, repentance is just as much a going for as a going from  -- an attraction to  rather than a repulsion FROM. 

 

     You know, we could have avoided this whole tedious discussion if I’d just said at the beginning that“repent” means “to change your mind.”  There need not be any other baggage attached to it.  “To repent” could mean “to go from one good way to another, better, way” just as much as “to go from a bad way to a good way.”  “To repent” means, simply, “to change your mind.”  I regret that.

 

     I have a theory about repentance.  I think it’s a lot easier to change your mind if you really understand the nature of things.  Christians can do nothing to “repay” God for His grace.  Only be grateful.  But heartfelt gratitude is a powerful thing.  It’s captured by Billy Collins in one of his poems: 

 

 

“The other day I was ricocheting slowly

off the blue walls of this room,

moving as if underwater from typewriter to piano,

from bookshelf to an envelope lying on the floor,

when I found myself in the L section of the dictionary

where my eyes fell upon the word lanyard.

 

No cookie nibbled by a French novelist could send one into the past more suddenly--

a past where I sat at a workbench at a camp

by a deep Adirondack lake

learning how to braid long thin plastic strips

into a lanyard, a gift for my mother.

 

I had never seen anyone use a lanyard

or wear one, if that’s what you did with them,

but that did not keep me from crossing

strand over strand again and again

until I had made a boxy

red and white lanyard for my mother.

 

 

She gave me life and milk from her breasts,

and I gave her a lanyard.

She nursed me in many a sick room,

lifted spoons of medicine to my lips,

laid cold face-cloths on my forehead,

and then led me out into the airy light

 

and taught me to walk and swim,

and I, in turn, presented her with a lanyard.

Here are thousands of meals, she said,

and here is clothing and a good education.

And here is your lanyard, I replied,

which I made with a little help from a counselor.

 

Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,

strong legs, bones and teeth,

and two clear eyes to read the world, she whispered,

and here, I said is the lanyard I made at camp.

And here, I wish to say to her now,

is a smaller gift – not the worn truth

 

that you can never repay your mother,

but the rueful admission that when she took

the two-tone lanyard from my hand,

I was as sure as a boy could be

that this useless, worthless thing I wove

out of boredom would be enough to make us even.”

 

 

…and THAT’S the kind of God we’re dealing with….