I remember the story well . . . it was
big news when it happened. The year was
1992. The place was Lincoln,
Nebraska. It was a story about three
people . . . Larry Trapp and the couple Michael and Julie Weisser. Trapp was well-known in Nebraska—especially
Lincoln where he spent a lifetime spewing hatred as a neo-Nazi and the former
Grand Dragon of the White Knights of the Ku Klux Klan. The Weissers . . . well, they were pretty
much “unknowns” until they reached out in kindness to this man filled with hate.
Though the story made the headlines in
1992, it began much earlier in 1988.
That was the year that Michael and Julie Weisser moved to Lincoln so
that he could be the cantor at the South Side Temple—a Jewish synagogue. A few years later they began to receive phone
calls with an angry voice cursing them . . . “You’ll be sorry you ever moved
into that house, Jew Boy” . . . “The KKK is watching you scum.” Their mailbox began to be jammed with hate
literature. They called the police and
were advised to have their children walk different routes to school each day
for their protection. The police knew
who it was—it was Larry Trapp.
That is scary stuff . . . life-changing
stuff; but Michael Weisser did not ignore it.
Instead he began calling Trapp and leaving his own messages. He called them love notes. He’d call and say, “Why do you hate me? You don’t even know me. Don’t you want people to love you? Don’t you want to be different? You’re disabled. Don’t you know that the Nazis would have killed
you first?” He offered help: “Do you
need a ride to the grocery store?”
One night Trapp picked up. He yelled and cursed accusing the cantor of
harassment . . . said he’d have him arrested.
Michael replied that he just wanted to talk. A week later Trapp called and said he wanted
to talk. He said he wanted out, that he
wanted to change but didn’t know how.
Against the advice of their children and friends, Michael and Julie
showed up at the Grand Dagon’s apartment and knocked. Trapp opened the door, a shotgun slung over
the wheelchair’s back and a loaded semi-automatic pistol in his lap.
They talked for three hours.
Trapp asked them to remove all the hate
material and stated that he wanted to change.
They took the white hood . . . the Nazi flag . . . and all the racist
literature. Then they did what no
one—including Trapp—expected . . . they moved him into their house.
Trapp lived with them until his death on
September 6, 1992. He was a changed
man. The one-time Nazi and Grand Dragon
was buried in the Temple cemetery—a Star of David on his headstone.
“Who would have ever thought that?” said
Michael.
Larry Trapp died having converted to the
Jewish faith.
This was a story of a Jewish couple in
Lincoln, Nebraska and the Jew-hater they befriended. Weisser, now a retired rabbi, states that all
of us have jobs to do as human beings.
“One of the jobs we have as human beings is to be nice to other human
beings,” he says. “Maybe if there are
enough of us being nice it will spread . . .”
Imagine that.
Upon witnessing the tax collectors and
sinners gathering around Jesus to hear his every word, the Pharisees and law
makers mumbled and complained. “This
man welcomes sinners and eats with them,” they mutter. More less, Jesus is hanging out with those
that the Pharisees and law makers consider to be the Trapps of the world . . .
despicable people that shouldn’t even be acknowledged as being worthy of the time
or effort of any respectable religious person.
They are the “lost”.
This, of course, elicits a response from
Jesus . . . he tells them several parables of which we have gotten to hear this
morning. He tells the parable of the
lost sheep and coin. Both are parables
we should be familiar with.
A shepherd loses one of his hundred
sheep . . . he abandons the 99 to find the one . . . and, he doesn’t give up
until it is found. Then, upon finding
it, he invites everyone to a party to celebrate the return of the lost sheep.
Likewise, a woman loses one of her ten
silver coins . . . she tears the house apart until she finds it. Upon finding it, she too, invites everyone
together for a party to celebrate the return of the lost coin.
Now, in our minds, aren’t these parables
a little on the extravagant side? Who
would risk 99 sheep to find one lost one?
No, we’d count our losses and rejoice that we still had 99 to sell. Same with the lost coin. We wouldn’t tear our house apart to find one
lost coin. No, we would be happy that we still had nine. It seems like a lot of effort for much of
nothing.
The teller of the stories—Jesus,
commends them for their dogged willingness to find and bring home the lost
despite how ridiculous it may seem. In
fact, he states that their efforts are worth celebrating with great joy—the
lost has been found. Then he states, “So
it is with God.”
In the minds of the Pharisees and
teachers of the law it was ironic that any person would go to the efforts of
the shepherd and woman to find the lost.
It just isn’t worth the effort.
In their minds, there are bigger fish to fry . . . more important things
to do. I was also ironic to them that if
Jesus was who he said he was, then he was wasting his time dropping his message
on those who they deemed to be worthless—the tax collectors and sinners. Instead he should be preaching and teaching
the religious . . . you know, people like them.
Why waste time and energy on them—the sinners?
That’s the irony of it all. God is not reserved for only a few select
individuals and groups. No, God pursues
everyone . . . desires everyone . . . and, wants everyone back in the
family. Despite what anyone thinks, God
is not only for the pious and holy, but for everyone. And, God is relentless in that pursuit of
that which others consider to be “lost”.
Despite what family and friends had told
the Weissers, they still opened their home and hearts to a person who had spent
a lifetime hating people like them. They
welcomed Larry Trapp into their home where they took care of him . . . loved
him . . . and, accepted him as another child of God. It was ironic. They could have walked away and cut their
losses. Instead they stayed and
discovered the “lost”. In the end they
had every right to throw a celebration . . . for the “lost” had been
found. As Jesus said, “In
the same way, I tell you, there is rejoicing in the presence of the angels of
God over one sinner who repents.”
As the followers of Jesus we have been
called to do the ironic. We have been
called to go forth with the exuberance of God to seek the lost . . . to share
the Good News that all are the children that God desires. The irony is in where we look to find the
lost . . . it is in those places we least expect, among those we might not
consider—people who are different from us.
The irony is in the fact that it isn’t
the words that we speak . . . it is in the actions that we take. Actions speak louder than words. As Michael and Julie Weiss demonstrated . . .
kindness can make a difference.
Remember what Michael Weiss said? He said, “One of the jobs we have as human
beings is to be nice to other human beings.
Maybe if there is enough of us being nice it will spread . . .” Then he finished that statement by saying, “.
. . like a geometric progression.”
That is Kingdom building. That is what we are called to be about. Stepping out to those on the outside—those
who are the tax collectors and sinners—loving and showering them with kindness. It might be ironic, but it works.
One act of kindness upon another.
Let us be relentless in our
pursuit. God is for us as we should be
for one another. That’s the irony of
God’s love for us. We don’t deserve it,
but we still get it. Amen.
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