James Henry Leigh Hunt, better known to almost everybody as Leigh Hunt, was a poet, an essayist, and a playwright in the 19th century. He was in that same circle of literary figures as Shelly, Wordsworth, and all of those people we were forced to study in high school. Like most people in England in the 19th century, he was serenely confident in the superiority of all things British. The sun never set on Her Majesty’s empire. And also, like most people in Europe during the 19th century, he had a tremendous fascination with all things Egyptian, Arabian, and Middle Eastern. And because of their unspoken assumptions about the world, they never really took seriously the faith of Muslim people, whom they would have called Mohammedans back in the 19th century, but they liked to fantasize about them. Leigh Hunt was also probably an Anglican Divine, a pastor. He never got a parish of his own, and drifted away from church things, but we can be fairly certain that he had a much better knowledge of both the Old and New Testament than you and I have. That was just typical of people at that time.

And so he writes a poem based on his enchantment with things Middle Eastern, but he also based it on an assumption that’s probably correct. And that is, across the spectrum of religious faith, at least the major known faiths at that time – Anglicanism, Roman Catholicism, Presbyterianism, Lutheranism, the Baptist churches, Judaism, and Islam, – all people reverence and hold as God’s word the two great commandments, which we just heard in today’s Gospel. So he creates a character for his poem. The character’s name is Abou Ben Adhem. Abou is what he thinks is a common Arabian name. But Ben means “son of;” then he chooses “son of” Adhem (Adam). He wants us to identify with this person as like you and me, descended from the first human being. And this is what he writes:

I recently read a novel called Damascus, about the life of St. Paul and other Christians, some of them martyrs during the 1st century. I didn’t care much for the book, by Christos Tsiolkas, but I did appreciate how he brought to life what if was like to live in the 1st century, what it was like to be a Christian back then. It was a tough slog in many ways, and the novelists graphic descriptions of the terrible conditions in which everybody, Christian and non-Christian, lived, the terrible things they endured, almost blistered my mind. I asked you to listen, during the second reading, for some of the vices, or character flaws, that St. Paul exhibits in that very brief passage.

I once had a friend who would give you the shirt off his back, almost literally. I remember one time, I needed money in a hurry. I told him my sad story. He opened his wallet and gave me a thousand dollars. Without blinking an eye, without making any arrangements to get it back. But he could not accept anything from anybody graciously. He simply did not know how to say thank you, or to show any appreciation. This is a wonderful man in many ways, but that one character flaw turned many people off from him, because they didn’t understand.

Reality TV. Reality TV is both the salvation and the destruction of the television industry. When many of us were growing up, for most of the day, all you could see on most channels was a test pattern. Then, when the kids got home from school, children’s programing began, followed by the evening news, followed by prime time scripted programs – comedies, dramas – and then the evening news, and then a sign-off, and a test pattern appeared again. But when we went to 24/7 programming, it became much more expensive to run television stations. Only the big three were really able to provide fresh programming all day and all evening long, because the cost of a scripted program was enormous – way over $1,000,000 per episode. And so, those stations needed to sell a $1,000,000 worth of advertising for each program just to break even. And the goal of the major broadcasting companies was not to just break even, they needed to make a substantial profit for their investors and for themselves. So in the early 1990’s they came up with a brilliant idea. Reality TV.

Because it only cost a fraction of what it cost to produce a scripted program. You didn’t have to pay those enormous salaries to the big-name stars, all you had to pay people on the screen was the daily minimum for someone who appeared on a talk show. Back in 1970’s, the daily minimum was about $79. So even given the cost of inflation, it didn’t cost much, say, to have a cook demonstrating how to bake something, or a carpenter, how to fix something, or some people fishing, how to find fish in deep water. So it’s simple to do. Instead of having five cameras on a set, you had one guy walking around with a camera on his shoulder.

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.