Sin Bin!
Psalm 81: 8-14
Hear, O my people, while I admonish you; O Israel, if you would but listen to me!
There shall be no strange god among you; you shall not bow down to a foreign god.
I am the Lord your God, who brought you up out of the land of Egypt.
Open your mouth wide and I will fill it.
‘But my people did not listen to my voice; Israel would not submit to me.
So I gave them over to their stubborn hearts, to follow their own counsels.
O that my people would listen to me, that Israel would walk in my ways!
Then I would quickly subdue their enemies, and turn my hand against their foes.
There is a term from the sports world that is perfectly suited for Lent. A friend of mine, a former Rugby player, referred the other day to the “Sin Bin.” “What in the world is that?” I asked. A better name for a penalty box, he explained. A hard foul will bring out the ref’s yellow card—and an order to leave the pitch, with no sub, for a ten-minute stew in the Sin Bin.
This got me thinking: How great would it be to toss ornery, annoying people into a Sin Bin, just as we (more or less) do for kids we put in Time Out? I’m telling you now: I would love to be able to throw a yellow card at dangerous drivers, at rude and racist people, at the “Karens” and “Kens” of the world—and consign them to a “dime” in the Sin Bin. “YOU! Drop and gimme ten in the Sin Bin. NOW. In you go.”
There’s a catch, though. (Isn’t there always?) Cards go both ways—and any yellow card-carrying Vicar worth her salt is obliged to ask, early and often: Do I need to perp-walk myself over to the Sin Bin and spend 10 minutes cooling my jets? Well, I do, and it happened last night around 8 p.m. I live on the Cathedral Close and was walking my Pomeranian, an over-indulged fluff tornado named Theo. He was walking me, actually, leading me through a slowly zigzagging “sniff tour” of the Cathedral grounds. He was off leash (it was in my hand). After a few minutes, a woman approached us on the sidewalk with a full head of steam. “That dog should be on a leash!” she snapped. “It’s against the law to not have your dog on a leash on public property.” Oh, the tone! I leveled a stare, but she kept walking and never looked back. Which only further infuriated me, since for once in my life I had a snarky retort ready to go in real time. I delivered it anyway: “Yes I know—thank you sooo much—but this is private property!” You get the picture. I spent five minutes reveling in my cleverness before I realized what a heel I’d been. My response to her was not quite what the Psalmist is lamenting about in verse 10, but close: “Open your mouth wide and I will fill it.” Yahweh filled the Hebrews’ mouths with quail to assure their survival during the Exodus and still they disobeyed and disappointed. What came out of my mouth was not God-centered.
Who knows, this woman may have had a horrible day. Or she may have once been attacked by a dog. I don’t know what triggered her, but I can assure you that Theo didn’t even notice her; his nose was planted in the grass. I should have responded, “Sure, I will leash him.” The bottom line is that I needed a Time Out. You—Dana! In the Sin Bin. Kneeling position. STAT! Strangers, friends and family would have a license to card me, too. Yep, it goes both ways. But that’s the grace part, too. (Isn’t there always?) We may get booted into the bin, but if we’re contrite and honest with ourselves and with God, we get to leave our sins there when it’s time to get back in the game.
prayer
I sharpened my two-edged sword
of justice and truth
and took it to the altar
to be blessed by God.
“Why thank you, Ellen,
another pruning hook.”
I wept,
know that God was not the blind one,
and realizing once more,
that if God has enough mercy to forgive me,
God has enough mercy to forgive my enemies.
–The Reverend E. Ellen Adams (Women’s Uncommon Prayers)
Daily Lenten meditations each have a companion morning prayer video offered by the same clergy. View the YouTube playlist to find this meditation’s companion video, or to watch others.