A couple of days ago, at dialysis, I was channel surfing and I came upon a Charlie Brown movie. I haven’t seen a Charlie Brown movie in ages. But this one was about Charlie Brown and the little red-headed girl. If you followed the Peanuts comic strip, you know that, for years now Charlie Brown has had a crush on the little red-headed girl and he never gets to speak to her, he cannot get up enough courage. But this time, one of his teachers intervenes. On the last day of school she assigns all the children a pen pal for the summer. And, as luck would have it, Charlie Brown is paired with the little red-headed girl, and he is terrified. Finally, at the last minute, as she’s about to get on the bus to go away to summer camp, he gets up the courage to ask her one simple question. Why would she write to him? He’s such a loser. And he takes a long time describing all of his faults and failings and foibles. And she answers him by saying she doesn’t think he’s that way at all. And she lists all the good qualities he has. His patience, his ability to forgive his friends when they tease him, his constantly trying to do better. And, as his eyes widen in appreciation, the doors close on the little red-headed girl. Keep that in mind, we’re going to talk about it more later on. But first I want to do something else.

The iconic movie, On the Waterfront, was all about corruption, especially mob-inspired correction, on the docks. It was a true story, based on the life of a Jesuit priest who worked for the betterment of the working conditions of people who worked on the docks. But we would be mistaken if we thought that today’s gospel has anything to do with social justice for workers. Why did Jesus tell this story? Why did Matthew include this story in his gospel?

It is almost the same story as a story with very different characters that we find in Luke’s gospel – the story of the Prodigal Son. In each story there is someone who obeys the rules and always does the right thing, and someone who seems to be messing up. Both of them are treated with the same kindness and generosity by the person who represents the authority figure. That’s the similarity between them, but one is found in one gospel, and one in the other.

When I was studying communications media at Loyola University in New Orleans, one of our assignments was to produce a fifteen minute movie using one of Jesus’ parables as our subject matter. We had to shoot it in Super 8. For those of you who are not of a certain age, Super 8 was home movie film that had no soundtrack. So we chose the parable that you just heard as our subject matter. And what we did was to turn it into a modern-day parable. The storyline was that the movie began with a priest being pulled over by a cop because he was speeding. And the priest begs, and wheedles and cajoles the cop into not giving him a ticket. And they ride off as best buddies. The priest arrives home at his rectory, and finds that some parishioner has had the audacity to park in the “clergy only” parking space behind the rectory. And just as he is having a fit, the offender comes out to get his car, and the priest really lands into him in a violent way. That was what you might call “Theology Lite,” but today’s story has a much more powerful punch than you might imagine.

It all goes back, the genesis of what Jesus says in the parable, goes all the way back, if you’ll pardon the pun, to the Book of Genesis. Chapter 4. All of us know the story of Cain killing Abel. We don’t pay much attention to what happens afterwards. God condemns Cain to be a wanderer across the face of the earth, and Cain says to God, “That punishment is much too harsh because I will be a victim of everyone who wants to take my life.” And God says, “Oh, no. I put my mark on you, and anyone who touches Cain will feel my wrath seven times over.” And you flash forward to Cain’s great-great-great-grandson, whose name is Lamech. Lamech calls his wives in one day and tells them, “If anyone wounds me, I will seek vengeance seventy-seven times. If even a little boy bruises me, I will seek vengeance seventy-seven times. Imagine what his wives thought about that; I’m sure they were impressed. But that’s where Jesus got the numbers in today’s story. The seven and the seventy-seven.

A couple of weeks ago, in our Gospel, we encountered that same phrase of Jesus, about binding and loosing. Binding means drawing together into community, which was clearly Jesus’ concern. As a matter of fact, tucked into this morning’s Gospel, is a little joke. He said if you can’t agree at all, and the church is no help, then treat the person as you would treat a tax collector or a sinner. But Jesus was known for treating the tax collectors and the sinners with a special affection in an attempt to draw them in. And the first reading this morning, the prophet talks about what happens when you don’t try to draw people in, and St. Paul’s letter talks about the ultimate result of trying very hard to draw people in. But for Christians, I should say for Matthew’s church, the issue of drawing in was especially important because they were on the verge of mission, and they were having trouble getting themselves started; getting themselves motivated for mission. But for Catholics – Christians generally, but Catholics in particular – gathering in means going on mission. Not that you twist people’s arms to make them believe what you believe, but rather, that you offer what you see as your gift and invite others to accept. And it’s in that context that I introduce this morning’s special guest, George Markolovitch, who represents the Diocese of Bar in Montenegro. He’s going to talk about how the effort goes on to draw people in in mission.