Written on February 1, 2008

[For the February 10, 2008 lectionary: Genesis 2:15-17; 3:1-7 + Psalm 32 + Romans 5:12-19 + Matthew 4:1-11.]

HOLY DEAL by Larry Patten

Sy Safransky, from the magazine The Sun, shared this joke in an editorial:

A lapsed Catholic named Michael had an important meeting and couldn’t find a parking space. Looking up to heaven, he said, “Lord, take pity on me. If you find me a parking space, I’ll go to Mass every Sunday for the rest of my life.” Miraculously, a parking space appeared. Michael looked up again and said, “Never mind, I found one.”

I chuckled.

Then yesterday I was at a Roman Catholic Church and couldn’t find a parking space. Finally, I maneuvered my car into a row of vehicles paralleling a curb painted in bright red. I figured being surrounded by others ignoring the law was the only thing in my favor. After all, I’m not one to bargain with God like: “Please, Compassionate Creator of the Entire Universe, if I don’t get a ticket for transgressing an illegal red zone, I’ll give more money to Your favorite charity.”

How ‘bout you? Is bargaining how you deal with creation and Creator, with fellow worker or best friend?

For those that read the Bible from start to finish, bargains come early and often. One of my favorite bargains arrives midway through the twelfth chapter of Genesis when Abram (soon renamed Abraham, and the central figure forever linking the Jewish, Christian, and Islamic faiths) makes a deal with the fearsome Egyptians to “guarantee” safe journey through Pharaoh’s land.

His bargain? He gave ‘em Sarai. “Take this woman,” smiling Abram says to the Egyptians, “She’s my sister.”

What a deal!

You won’t find that exact quote in Genesis, but it’s close enough for the silly and sordid “bargain” the Father of Three Great Faiths was trying to foist on the unsuspecting Egyptians. Sarai, of course, wasn’t his sister. She was his wife, the soon-to-be Mother of Three Great Faiths.

What did Blaise Pascal, the 17th century French mathematician and theologian caution? “Men never do evil so completely and cheerfully as when they do it from religious conviction.”

Take my wife. I want to save my hide. Let’s start a war and we’re sure it will bring peace. Believe the way I do, or you—and not I—will go to hell. A parking space is the least of it. We are bargain hunters in the worst way.

An even earlier bargain involved Eden’s garden. It was a divine deal. Don’t touch the fruit of one particular tree, God instructed Eve and Adam, another happy couple. Just leave that holy harvest alone. If you do touch it (let alone have a snack attack), you will die. No fruit and there’s life forever; one nibble and you might as well start carving your name on a tombstone. But, Eve, the apple of Adam’s eye, plucks the fruit and the rest is theology.

I suppose it could be said God kept that long-ago bargain. The fruit was on the tree of “good and evil.” And we humans are intimate with both. And we die.

I searched for that parking space at a Roman Catholic Church because I was attending the memorial service of a person I admire. Once I had been his pastor. The place where his service was held wasn’t his home church. The location was changed because everyone knew there would be an immense crowd and a larger space was necessary. Locally, he was a beloved, award-winning baseball coach. For over thirty years he taught and supported thousands of high school boys. Many of those young and once-young men jammed the sanctuary to honor “Coach.”

He was sixty-five. Heart attack. It wasn’t fair. But it’s part of the divine bargain.

His eldest daughter spoke, eloquently and simply. How could she share words about her Dad in the midst of such great grief? But she did. She told one story that brought tears to my eyes. Yeah, that’s a cliché. But that was also how it was.

She said he taught all three daughters how to ride a bike.

I could relate. I remember learning to ride. Scary. Two wheels. Gravity. Watch out below! Anyone who rides a bike knows the first lessons leave bruises.

Her Dad gripped the bicycle’s rear, running just behind, keeping the bike balanced. Day after day; practice after practice. Her pedaling finally gained confidence. She looked back to see how Dad was doing.

But he wasn’t there, and hadn’t been for several of the practice sessions. He had let them go when he knew they were safe, when they could venture, and have adventure, on their own. Of course, none of the daughters knew Dad had already let go . . . at least not right away.

Now, again, he lets go. But not by choice. And all the family and friends, and the boys once young, feel the loss.

Yeah, I cried. What a Holy deal. I hate that death is part of the bargain of life. And yet it’s also the only bargain that matters.

We have each other for a while and we can hold on. And we can let go. Why bargain for anything other than life and sharing joy right now?