The train clanked and rattled down the tracks one lazy summer afternoon as I traveled from Kyoto to Tokyo. My car was relatively empty — a few housewives with children in tow and a few older folks going to or returning from shopping. At one station the doors opened and suddenly the quiet of the afternoon was shattered by a man who began to bellow violence and incomprehensible curses. The man was big, drunk, and filthy. As he yelled, he swung at a woman carrying a baby. The blow sent the woman into the lap of an older couple; it was a miracle that the child was not injured. The couple quickly moved away, leading the man to follow, but he stopped short and began to again scream profanities. I could see that the man's hands were cut and bleeding. As the train lurched forward, all the passengers were frozen with fear.

I knew this was my opportunity to act, to do the right thing, and teach this man a lesson. I was young and in good shape. Moreover, I had been practicing Aikido for a few hours each day for the past three years. I liked to grapple and throw my opponents; I thought myself to be rather tough. However, my martial arts training had never been exercised in actual combat. As students of Aikido we were encouraged never to fight. "Aikido," my instructor had always said, "is the art of reconciliation. Whoever has the mind to fight has broken his connection with the universe. If you try to dominate people, you are already defeated. Aikido is used to resolve conflict, not initiate it." Despite the teacher's words I wanted to prove myself, to find an absolutely legitimate opportunity whereby I might save the innocent by destroying the guilty.

"This is it," I said to myself and sprang to my feet. "People are in danger and I need to act. If I don't, someone may get hurt." Seeing me rise, the drunk recognized a chance to focus his rage. He roared saying, "You need to be taught a lesson." As I held onto the commuter strap I gave the man a look of disgust, telling myself how I planned to defeat this man and his arrogance. I blew him a kiss in defiance which prompted him to rush at me. Just then someone shouted, "Hey!" The voice was earsplitting and it came again, "Hey!" As I turned to my left and the drunk to his right we both saw an older little man sitting in traditional Japanese dress on one of the seats. The man, who must have been in his seventies, took no notice of me, but focused all his attention on the drunk. "Come here," said the man to the drunk. "Come over here and talk with me."

The drunk responded to the call, as if being pulled by a string. He stood before the older man and shouted, "Why should I listen to you?" The drunk was fixed on the old man. I told myself if he made one move forward or back I would drop him in his tracks. "What have you been drinking?" the old man asked. "Sake," came the answer. "Oh, that is wonderful," the old man said. "I love sake as well. Every night my wife and I warm up a little bottle of sake and take it to our garden and sit on a wooden bench. As we drink our sake we watch the sun go down and we see how our persimmon tree is doing. My great-grandfather planted that tree and we worry with the ice storms that it will survive. Actually the tree has done better than we anticipated. It is wonderful to sit, sip our sake, and watch the sun set each evening."

The drunk began to slowly sway back and forth; his fists unclenched. "I love persimmons, too," said the drunk. "Yes," said the old man, smiling, "and I bet you have a wonderful wife as well." "No," said the drunk, "my wife died several years ago. I have no wife, no home, and no job. I am ashamed of myself." Tears began to roll down the cheeks of the drunk; a spasm of despair rippled through his body. As I stood there in my well-groomed innocence, with my make-this-world-safe-for-democracy attitude, I felt dirtier than the drunk.

The train arrived at my stop and as the doors opened I heard the old man say, "My my, that is a difficult set of circumstances. Sit down here and tell me all about it." I turned my head for one last look. The drunk was sprawled on the seat with his head in the old man's lap. The old man was stroking the drunk's dirty, matted hair.

The young man, skilled at martial arts and perceiving himself to be brave and the bringer of justice, found what the discipline of Aikido was all about, but he learned this valuable lesson, as they say, "through the back door." Reconciliation is something we must learn; it is an active virtue that takes time, energy, and skill. This season of grace, our Lenten journey, asks us to revisit and make stronger our commitment to reconciliation. Paul understood the basic need for reconciliation and, thus, he calls the Corinthians to be reconciled with Christ and by extension to one another. We are called to do the same.

Although Paul had a long-standing and highly significant relationship with the Corinthians, it was not always harmonious. His message in today's lesson serves as a personal challenge as well as a general teaching on the promotion of reconciliation. First, he calls the community to be new creations in Christ. He calls people to forget the past and move forward. Through Jesus a new day has dawned; it is time to seek reconciliation. Jesus is not concerned with the past transgressions of the people; rather he wishes the community to seek a new beginning with him and with each other. Paul rejected the factions that had arisen in the community and preached unity. Similarly, Jesus wants the people to find personal unity by removing obstacles that cause interior division. Jesus has given us the message of reconciliation in order to assist us in this quest for personal wholeness. Once each individual and the community as a collective has found reconciliation with Christ, then we must go forward as ambassadors of the Lord. The Christians in Corinth are asked to bring Jesus' message of peace, love, and forgiveness to others. Once the gift of reconciliation has been received, it must be shared with others.

Paul's exhortation to be reconciled with Christ is a message we need to hear and heed today. Too often we go about our very busy and public lives with a certain sense that all is well; there is no perceived need to look inside and ask the hard question with respect to our relationship with God. But the truth is that we are all sinners and, therefore, in need of the reconciliation that Christ offers to us.

Reconciliation is an active process which must actually start within our own person. The first element is passive but absolutely essential to the process. We need to believe that God never gives up on us. The story in Luke's Gospel (13:6-9) about the barren fig tree demonstrates God's ever-present love. The tree representing Israel has not been fruitful. The owner wants it cut down but the vinedresser says to give it another chance. Some may feel that their relationship with God is so strained that they cannot approach God; we feel paralyzed and unsure which way to turn or where to go. But we must always recall that the invitation of the Lord is ever-present. We should recall Jesus' words: "Come to me, all that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light" (Matthew 11:28-29). Yes, Jesus is present and stands ready to welcome us, but we must respond and open our hearts. As we hear in the book of Revelation: "Listen! I am standing at the door; knocking; if you hear my voice and open the door I will come in to you and eat with you, and you with me" (3:20). Jesus will not break in where he is not wanted or invited; we must open the door of our hearts to his invitation of reconciliation.

The process of reconciliation continues with the discovery of the three active aspects of forgiveness, within self, with others, and ultimately with God. The famous parable of the prodigal son, Luke 15:11-32, best illustrates this second step in the journey of reconciliation. Active reconciliation must begin within our own person. The so-called prodigal son in the story comes to the realization that he needs to forgive himself. He has wasted his father's money; he has lived a wayward existence. Before he could begin the physical journey back to his father, he needed to find a change of heart within himself. He needed to forgive himself, before he would be ready to accept the forgiveness of others.

Reconciliation with others is the second active aspect. The older son in the parable is representative of one who cannot forgive others. He is angry with his brother for his wayward actions. He is even more incensed, however, by his father who has not only forgiven the younger boy's transgressions but has celebrated his return with food and dance. We learn about the need to forgive others in the character of the older son. Since this young man cannot forgive, the process of reconciliation is stunted. As when the weak link in the chain snaps and destroys the usefulness of the whole, so too, if either of the first two active aspects of reconciliation are not found, the final aspect, reconciliation with God, cannot be achieved.

The forgiving father in the parable represents God. His youngest son was barely in sight and the father had the celebration prepared. Reconciliation was achieved as soon as his wayward son realized that he needed to be forgiven, by himself and by others. Similarly, Jesus' arms are outstretched on the cross as a sign of his welcome of us when we have strayed off the path that leads to life. All that is necessary to achieve this reconciliation is for us to ask.

The final step in the process of reconciliation might not seem obvious. God has pursued us and we have found reconciliation within ourselves, with others, and with God. One thing more is required, however; we need to look to the future. The positive message of the prophets is to look to the future. After predictions of doom the prophets say that the people need to forget the past and look to the future. In Isaiah we read, "Do not remember the former things or consider the things of old. I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert" (43:18-19). The past actions of the Hebrew people had to be put behind them; they needed to begin anew.

Reconciliation is only complete when we put the sins of our past behind us and start again. If we dwell on the past then it will be impossible to make a new beginning. We carry around our excess baggage; it weighs us down. But as Jesus said to the woman caught in adultery, "Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?" She said, "No one, sir." And Jesus said, "Neither do I condemn you. Go your way, and from now on do not sin again" (John 8:10b-11). Jesus' words to the woman point to the future. The past is forgiven. Let us move on, drop the past baggage, and try to do better. Too many times people live in the past; they have never learned to forgive themselves.

Reconciliation is very much a desert experience. We may enter the process with some significant reservations. But let us remember that Paul did the same thing in his relationship with the Corinthians. He wrote: "I came to you in weakness and in fear and in much trembling" (1 Corinthians 2:3). Paul's solution to his dilemma was found in Jesus and so too must our answers be sought. Let us remember Jesus' words: "Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick; I have come to call not the righteous but sinners" (Mark 2:17).

The young man on the train found that reconciliation was not found through a sense of righteousness or aggressive behavior; it could only be found through an active outpouring of compassion. Yet, he had to learn, by observation of the older man, that God was ready and able to be a reconciler. If any of us should have any further need of the reality of God's abiding love for us, picture this image: It is a hot and beautiful summer day and a little girl stands on the edge of large swimming pool. She looks out at the shimmering water and her eyes well up with tears. She is afraid, for she does not know how to swim, but then, she raises her eyes, looks out and sees her mom, with her arms outstretched. Mom says, "Go ahead, jump in, there is nothing to fear. I will hold you up." In a similar way, Jesus has his arms outstretched on the cross and he says to all of us, "Go ahead, take a chance, be reconciled with others. I will hold you up; I will bring you to eternal life."