What’s in YOUR Wallet?

If (Onesimus) . . . owes you anything, charge that to my account.

I, Paul, am writing this with my own hand: I will repay it.

(Philemon 18,19)

A sermon by Siegfried S. Johnson on the 13th Sunday after Pentecost, September 3, 2006

(Volume 1 Number 11)

First United Methodist Church, 605 West Sixth, Mountain Home, Arkansas 72653

Dining at an expensive Manhattan restaurant, a man overheard three young ladies arguing at a nearby table.  Each was insisting that she was picking up the entire tab.  One young lady ended the debate with a stern tone of authority.  Reaching into her purse and flashing plastic she said, "I insist that you let me pay for the entire ticket -- with my mother's credit card!" 

Since it’s so easy to say “Charge that to my account” or, better yet, “to my mom’s account,” why not?  As more and more say “Charge it!” many Americans are left suffering the stress of a high debt load.  Some, though, in the credit card industry are seeking to alleviate that stress with what we might call – Sweet Talk.  The Wall Street Journal reported some time ago that many financially troubled credit card users would soon open their mail to receive, not a nasty collections notice, but an attractive and thoughtful card.  The scene on the card was that of a babbling mountain brook, serene and refreshing, the sky ablaze with a beautiful orange sunset.  The card invites the recipient to a place of escape from their problems.  Opening the card to see who would send such a considerate note, they find a message written in elegant calligraphy, “Mary (or, insert your name), I don’t know about you, but I find that life often takes sudden turns – many times without warning.”  The author speaks as a friend acquainted with life’s difficulties, full of compassion for your situation.  The note ends, “Please know that at Discover Card, we understand life’s unexpected detours and are dedicated to serving you any way we can.”

Isn’t that nice?  Translation?  “Pay up.”  In a polite and cordial way, Discover Card found a way to say, “You owe us money.  Something has happened that you’re not even making minimum payments.   Forgive us for asking, but we need you to think about how you’re going to pay us.  Call and let us help you think on this important problem.”

When it comes to Sweet Talk from credit card issuers, Capital One sets the advertising gold standard with its “What’s in YOUR Wallet?” campaign, painting the high interest rates and fees of other lending institutions as, well, barbaric.  You’ve all seen the ads with a gang of barbarians, Goths and Visigoths, set to destroy a poor, unsuspecting credit card user.  Until, that is, someone pulls out a Capital One card, which stops the barbarians in their tracks.  Left with nothing to do, they lower their clubs and walk away disappointed that Capital One’s easy interest rates have destroyed their fun in pillaging the innocent. 

Creditor Sweet Talk reminds me of research I did at the University of Michigan.  May I invite you to join me this morning on an adventurous journey?  Don't worry about the cost. “Charge it to me.”  I insist on picking up the tab, since ours will be an imaginary excursion.  You’ll rack up plenty of frequent flyer miles this morning, so fasten your seatbelts and prepare for a jaunt halfway around the world and 4,000 years into the past.  Biblically speaking that’s roughly the time of Abraham.  But we won’t be visiting the Promised Land.  We’ll fly right over the Holy Land, continuing on for another 500 miles.  Our destination is the Persian Gulf region known as Mesopotamia.  Now, as you buckle up for our landing, let me welcome you to the city of Mari, a bustling metropolis on the Euphrates River in modern day Syria, only a few miles from their border with Iraq.  The city of Mari was destroyed by Babylon’s King Hammurabi in 1759 B.C.  Mari’s golden period lasted for over a thousand years (2900 – 1759 B. C).  By the time Abraham journeyed there, a likely route from Ur to the Holy Land following the ancient caravan trade route, it was a prosperous city with a thousand year history – a city soon to be destroyed. 

Mari lay forgotten and undisturbed until seventy-three years ago, when in1933 a statue fragment was stumbled upon during a funeral.  Later that year excavations began at the site under French archaeologist Andre Parrot, excavations that unearthed the city of Mari, one of history’s most momentous archaeological discoveries.  Among the most startling features of Mari is the Palace of King Zimri-Lim, 258,000 square feet, with over 300 rooms.  The discovery of King Zimri-lim’s entire royal library, yielding over 20,000 cuneiform tablets, is one of the most exciting archaeological finds of all times, and work continues there every dig season. 

In 1989 I presented the results of my research on Mari’s socio-economic conditions, my study focusing on thirty-eight administrative texts discovered in the temple area, tablets which described financial transactions.  This morning I invite you to pay a little visit with me to the First National Bank of Mari.  Banking was much different in those days.  No camel-back-high drive-thru windows (though it’s fun to imagine).  No ATM conveniences.  One of the most obvious differences you would note is that banking was temple-based, centralized around the worship of gods and goddesses such as Dagan, Ishtar and Shamash. 

Can you imagine the church doubling as America’s chief financial institution?  The temple was their Wall Street.  If there’s an advantage, one might think, for the church to double as the bank, might there be more grace involved toward those having a hard time paying back their loans? Hardly.  In Mari those who “couldn’t leave home without it” paid a hefty price.  The interest rate for the region was standardized at 33 1/3% annually, though unquestionably there are examples of interest rates as high as 50%, and even (believe it or not!) evidence that these ancient bankers were adept enough mathematically to calculate interest in a way that compounded monthly. 

Despite the span of four millennia separating Mari from Mountain Home, these ancient loan records, like our own, were highly formulaic.  In our day, the loan officer has a standardized form on which you merely fill in the blanks.  Name.  Address.  Social security number.  Amount borrowed.  Interest rate.  Date of payoff.  It wasn’t much different 4,000 years ago at Mari.  These tablets also followed a universal pattern.  Name of borrower.  Amount borrowed.  Interest rate.  Terms of payment.  And at the end there was always a list of witnesses.  First National Bank wanted their money back in a timely manner.  I never found any Sweet Talk among cuneiform loan documents, no refreshing babbling brooks or orange sunsets.

The most fascinating tablet I read among the 38 our team handled, recorded a loan to a man named Iarip-ea, who was given an interest-free loan.  No date was even set for payment!  Was this an ancient version of one of those 0% for six months on transferred balances?  No, this was not a “What’s In YOUR Wallet?” competitive loan.  Rather, in lieu of interest the temple took his wife, Tabuti-emdi, as a servant.  The terms were simple.  Iarip-ea could have her back when he paid off his debt, but as long as she served the temple, no payment was required.  (I’m not EVEN going to ask how many husbands here might take a deal like that!  I don’t want you get in trouble if your wife even sees you grin at the thought).  Actually, the terms weren’t as good as you might think.  The cuneiform tablet includes the line, “if she dies or runs away or becomes ill -- payment is expected immediately."   Then, as now, you see, creditor compassion and Sweet Talk only goes so far.  “Pay up” is still the bottom line. 

We read this morning a little epistle written from Paul, writing to one of his converts, Philemon of Colosse.  Philemon had a servant named Onesimus who had escaped, running away to Rome.  I can imagine, had Philemon known Onesimus’ address, the letter he might have written.  “Dear Onesimus, my debtor.  Please forgive my asking, but pay up.  You are mine and your freedom has not yet been purchased.”  Philemon may not have known Onesimus’ address, where to send that letter, but God did.  What Onesimus receives from God is amazing grace.  Drawn to Paul, who was under a lenient sort of house arrest in Rome, he hears the gospel and is converted, becoming one of Paul’s valued assistants.  It’s a biblical saga with a triad of persons – Paul the missionary, Philemon the wealthy business man, and Onesimus the escaped slave. 

The letter we read is a Dear Debtor letter in reverse.  “Dear Lender, I appeal to you for your debtor, Onesimus.  I am sending him back, though I would have preferred to have kept him with me, but would not without your consent.  Perhaps, though he left you as a slave, he might return to you, not as a slave, but as a brother.  If you consider me a partner, welcome him as you would me.  If he has wronged you in any way, or owes you anything, charge that to my account.  I, Paul, am writing this with my own hand: I will repay it." 

We sing, “Jesus Paid it all, all to him I owe, sin had left a crimson stain, he washed it white as snow.”  Let’s imagine Jesus, our advocate, writing just such a Dear Lender letter to God.  “Dear Father, I write on behalf of my child (insert your name) who, I admit, owes you much.  He could never repay his dept.  If he owes you anything, put that on my account.  I, your only beloved son, will repay it with my own blood.” 

I once heard Chuck Swindoll tell the story of a man who had cheated the IRS.  The guilt of his dishonesty disrupted his life.  At last he wrote to the IRS.  "This past year, I cheated on my tax return.  I feel terrible about this.  I can't sleep at night.  So, I have enclosed a check for $150 to ease my conscience.  If that doesn't help and I still can't sleep, I will send you the other $300 bucks I still owe!" 

So it is with the guilt of sin.  There is always more to pay.  We never gain a sense that our debts are fully paid, attempt as we might to appease God through a weekly or monthly installment of religious activity.  We know it’s useless.  We simply don’t have the resources to pay all we owe. 

A tourist in Tel Aviv visited Mann Auditorium.  Admiring the magnificent architecture of this grand auditorium, home to the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra, the tourist asked the guide, “Is this auditorium named for Thomas Mann, the famous author?”

“No,” the guide replied.  “It is named for Frederick Mann of Philadelphia.”

The tourist had never heard of Frederick Mann.  “What did he write?” he asked.

The guide replied with two words only.  “A check.”

Nor did Jesus write anything.  Not a published word.  But on the cross Jesus, in a sense, wrote a check.  A very big check.  Jesus was saying of our sin-debt, “Charge that to my account.”

"My Sin, O the Bliss of this glorious thought; My sin, not in part, but the whole; Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more; Praise the Lord, Praise the Lord, O My Soul!” (Horatio Spafford, “It Is Well With My Soul.”)  

(1) Jean-Claude Margueron, translated by Stephen Rosoff, “Mari,” in The Anchor Bible Dictionary.