Jumbotron Scorpions
If there has been anything that has united us these past days in a way nothing else has in years, I would claim that it came from a moment of indiscretion captured on a Jumbotron screen at a Coldplay concert in Boston.
By now, we know the story: big head-honcho company executive embracing a woman on a “Kiss-Cam,” who then see themselves on said Jumbotron and quickly hide in shame and embarrassment. Turns out, the loving couple wasn’t supposed to be a couple at all.
For more than a week, the world has ridiculed, mocked and shamed the man and woman whose affair was broadcast for all the world to see. Quite a few folks – from national podcast celebrities to my closest friends – have shared the sentiment: “Serves them right. Thrilled they got caught.”
Somewhere deep within resides that part of us that rejoices when sinners get their come-uppance. “Hooray,” we cry. “There is justice after all!”
And yet, in all the cheers and jokes and criticisms, I have repeatedly been pondering the words of Christ in today’s Gospel: “What father would hand his son a snake when he asks for a fish or a scorpion when he asks for an egg?”
That’s exactly what Jumbotron Dad did to his wife and children. His sin became their poison. And we as a nation collectively laugh as two families fall apart in the shadow of that Boston stadium.
I don’t say this as a way to shame us – admittedly, I have laughed at quite a few memes and parodies of the Coldplay illicit embrace. But at the same time, I think there is a need to pause here and remember: the man who is called husband and father by the ones he vowed his life to just handed them a scorpion by his infidelity. Imagine what his wife must be feeling right now. And what must his son think of the man he has probably idolized since his boyhood?
Their hearts must be broken; their emotions on a rollercoaster of rage and embarrassment and confusion and deep sadness.
When one member of the Body of Christ hurts, we all hurt. When one grieves, we grieve with them. St. Paul makes that clear throughout his letters. Sinfulness affects the entire body, and so when such transgressions come, the entire body feels its effects, but must also respond and fight back – with prayer and sacrifice.
Ultimately, isn’t that what Abraham is doing for the innocent residents of Sodom and Gomorrah who were caught up in the sinfulness of others? What seems to be plea-bargaining with God is really a story of a man called by God to love those hurt through sinful behaviors by interceding and sacrificing for them. Abraham was willing to go to bat for those who needed someone to love them in a world that was collapsing all around them due to sin.
Shouldn’t we be doing the same?
The more I ponder Jesus’ words to “ask, seek, and knock,” I can’t help but be struck by the fact that it comes as sacred advice offered immediately after the tale is told of a man who knocks on a neighbor’s door on behalf of a friend in need. That neighbor came on behalf of another man who was starving; he did not come for himself.
All around us these days, people are starving. Starving for physical assistance, yes. But even more so: starving for our time, compassion, forgiveness, and our prayerfulness. When they come to us in darkness and exhaustion, fear and sin, it is our Christian duty to step-up and intercede. Not mock, or judge harshly. Not laugh at or ignore all together.
Pray. Sacrifice. Go to God for them. Open the doors of our hearts for those who have sinned, and those affected by the transgressions of others whom they called neighbor, friend, fellow-parishioner and sometimes even Dad.
Imagine right now – as the memes die down and the Jumbotron scandal of the Summer of 2025 is quickly replaced with another salacious news event, that we as a parish community (or even just as an individual disciple) prayed for the families affected by that one moment at the concert. What if we prayed beginning now that the wife’s broken heart finds a way to move forward in confidence and healing after betrayal? What if we prayed that the son doesn’t end up hating his father for life?
And truly: what if we took the words of the Lord’s Prayer to heart and actually prayed for those who sin against us?
Is it hard? Definitely. Do you really want to pray for your ex? The boss who treated you like garbage? The aunt who called you ugly and fat and stupid when you were an awkward teen? The political leader who makes your skin crawl?
Who’s on your Jumbotron list?
For here’s the other part of the Lord’s Prayer that cuts me to the quick: one day, my life will be on the “Judgment Jumbotron” – everything that I have done and failed to do: the people I’ve hurt, ignored, hated and used. The times that I believed my sins wouldn’t hurt anyone but myself. The transgressions that I tried to excuse away or say would never be found out. Before God, I will stand exposed. How do I want Him to treat me in my weakest moments and in my shame? How do I want Him to embrace me, even knowing the depths of my sin?
I would want mercy. I want the Blood of His Cross to heal me and set me free. I want His Love to welcome me back, where the chains of hate and anger and selfishness are broken forever. If I want this for myself, how can I not want it for others, those who are just as broken and sinful as I am? How could I not want for those whose sometimes sinful lives will also show up one day on the Judgment Jumbotron?
It may be the hardest thing we are ever asked to do – to forgive. To call on the Blood of Christ from Calvary to mercifully wash another clean from the hurt and pain their transgressions have caused. But we must; Jesus demands it of us.
For at the end of the day, He knows that doing so will free us from the chains of others’ brokenness, and we ourselves will allow mercy and forgiveness to touch our own Jumbotron moments in life. Doing so is not a free pass for the transgressor. Rather, it’s a gift of healing for the hurt caused by sin.
No doubt the world needs more of it. So, too, does a young son in Boston whose Dad just handed him and his family a scorpion and a snake when what they needed was a man who loved them as he should.