WHO FIXES THE
FIXER?
Oscar Sermon Series: “Michael Clayton”
2 Samuel 12:1-7a, Matthew 7:13-14, Matthew 16:24-26
Rev. Gary Paterson
February 17, 2008
One of the reasons I like the Bible is that the “juicy bits” get included… like the story of David and Bathsheba. You remember … David, the greatest of kings, upright and beloved; with several wives and many concubines -- and lo and behold, Bathsheba, bathing on the rooftop of an adjacent building; and David, upon seeing her, falls madly in lust, in love… and is determined to bed her. Only trouble is… she’s already married. But kings have a way of getting their way… which is fine, until Bathsheba becomes pregnant while her husband, Uriah, is off fighting in the war. But David is a skilled fixer, and hastily sends discrete instructions which ensure that Uriah is “accidentally” killed in battle. After a short time of mourning, David and Bathsheba get married … a story like that -- surely it would qualify for prime time soap opera, no?
But remember, this is the Bible… and so it’s time to fix the fixer. Nathan the prophet pays a visit to the royal court, and with clever parables leads David to denounce his actions and reveal his guilt; at which point Nathan cries out, “Thou art the man!” The guilty one; who chooses the wide way to destruction … the one who is willing to compromise, lie, cheat to get what he wants, to get ahead in the world. Nathan holds up a mirror in front of David, and demands that he see himself for what he has become, for who he truly is.
The Bible is full of moments like this, where suddenly, in the midst of a story, a question or exclamation will leap out and grip you by the throat, demanding your attention, slipping through your daily defenses, until suddenly your heart experiences that surprising and often painful moment of clarity – “This is my life; this is me!” Adam and Eve after the apple… and the first thing God says in response is “Where are you?” Or Job in his agony, crying out, “Where are you, God?” And “Why? Why me? Why anyone?” Or Moses, as he stares into the burning bush – “I send you to free my people from slavery in Egypt!” “What are we humans that you, O God, are mindful of us, of me?” “Am I my brother’s keeper?” “How long, O God, how long?” Moments of sudden clarity; when the mirror is held up before you; “Nathanesque” moments, I sometimes call them.
It seems to me that Jesus had a way of creating similar moments of clarity, with a question, challenge, invitation -- to the rich young ruler: “Sell your belongings, give the money to the poor, and follow me.” ; to Zaccheus, the tax-collector – “Come down from the tree… and let’s have dinner together.” The Samaritan woman at the well, Nicodemus; or the blind man… “What do you want me to do for you?” Oh, Jesus was a master at holding up the mirror to people, giving them the opportunity to see themselves in a new way.
So here’s an invitation to you… and a challenge. What if, as a Lenten experience, when you stagger from bed in the morning and make your way to the washroom to splash water in your bleary face, what if you were to pause for a couple of minutes… first close the bathroom door so no one thinks you’re weird… what if you took a good long look at yourself in the mirror. I mean a long look, for two or three minutes. Take a look at that face… the wrinkles… and yes, even if you’re a cool twenty-five, you’ll see a hint of wrinkles… the laugh lines, the fault lines; those eyes that have seen so much, though not always understanding; eyes that have missed seeing so much; the joy of yourself, the solidness; the compromises; the hopes and restlessness…. “Thou art the man, the woman.” What would happen if you spent a couple of minutes every morning for the rest of Lent, staring at yourself in the mirror? What would you discover? What questions would you hear? What answers might you give?
Now… let me shift for a moment… and reassure all of you who arrived this morning expecting some conversation about a movie. What if we were to understand the film, “Michael Clayton” as a parable, which, like Biblical stories, suddenly opened up that kind of self-questioning for its viewers, as we watch a classy fixer coming face to face with himself, his life? What if this movie functioned as a mirror held up before you, a story where you catch fleeting glimpses of yourself? “Michael Clayton” is an adult film, that takes the responsibility of moral inquiry very seriously; this is a story of redemption… of a man finding himself. And if we pay attention, if we listen, maybe we will find ourselves, as well.
Michael Clayton, the man of the title… he’s a fixer; the guy in the fancy New York law firm who makes sure that everyone else’s messes get cleaned up. Is there a client whose case needs a little nudge… a phone call made to the right contact? a favour called in? an offer that can’t be refused? an envelope of money slipped from hand to pocket? ... well then, Michael’s your man. As the poster for the film advertises, “The truth can be adjusted.” That’s how Michael has lived his life… and the rewards have been good… money, fast life, a Mercedes. But then you discover that the car is leased; the marriage, finished; and Michael likes to gamble … a lot; and he loses money … a lot of money. And now he owes $75,000 to the mob’s loan shark. Somewhere along the line, Michael has lost his conscience, and can’t tell where to find it; leave it alone… but it won’t come home...
Bam… the movie starts with a crisis. Arthur, a brilliant litigator, is the point man for his firm’s most important and lucrative client, UNorth, an agrochemical corporation that produces pesticides, one of which has turned out to be a killer… of people, that is. The corporation knows it, but deep-sixes the information in order to keep the profits rolling, although a class-action suit has been started by the small farm families where people are dying. Arthur is the lawyer who has kept everything wrapped up in procedural tape for six very long years… a cajillion billable hours; millions of dollars in fees for the firm. Everyone is happy… except the folk who are dying. But somewhere off screen, Arthur has his moment in the mirror, his encounter with some modern Nathan. Perhaps it was the discovery of incontrovertible evidence proving UNorth’s guilt; or maybe it was meeting the young, blonde Anna whose family knows firsthand what this company pesticide does to human flesh. At any rate, Arthur stops taking his bipolar meds, and sweeps into a manic high, and ends up doing a striptease in the middle of a crucial deposition. But in a strange way, the movie suggests that Arthur in his madness is finally able to see and tell the truth; the people who are really crazy are the ones who choose a world where making money is more important that people’s lives. Arthur shouts and raves, but, really, he’s simply declaring the truth. “I have blood on my hands,” he yells. Sure, Arthur needs to get back on his meds, but he also needs to hold onto the truth that he has discovered… he even talks about being renewed, reborn,
But this kind of truth-speaking is dangerous, particularly to UNorth, and they, of course, have their own fixers…. who carefully murder Arthur, making it appear to be a suicide. Very professional. Don’t kid yourself -- money always buys muscle to protect itself.
Well, the movie get going when Michael discovers that his friend Arthur has been murdered; and he discovers why... and he is offered a cheque for $80,000 for his silence. In his mind, in his heart, he remembers the final conversation he had with Arthur… a “Nathanesque” moment when Arthur becomes the prophet… “Look at yourself,” Arthur says to Michael; “Look at what you have become… a fixer! Is that what you wanted for your life?” “We have been summoned,” Arthur cries out to all of us. “The time is now.”
When Michael in full-on defensiveness, yells back, “I’m not the enemy!”, Arthur snaps back, “If you’re not the enemy, then you are you?” And that’s the question that hangs in the air for all of us. “We’re not the enemy,” we cry out, even as we enjoy incredible pleasures and privilege where millions die of hunger; as the world melts; where wars are waged for oil. “If you’re not the enemy, then who are you?” is a fine Lenten question… one you could ask when next you’re looking in the bathroom mirror. Our temptations may not be as dramatic as Michael’s, no one is offering me an eighty thousand dollar cheque to look the other way. But I do know something about the compromises that we all end up making; I know how upsetting it can feel to have a Nathan stride into my conscience.
Michael takes the cheque… he knows what he’s doing -- “I sold Arthur out for eighty thousand dollars.” Yes, but he needs the cash to pay off his $75,000 debt to the mob. But the question is raised… will this be the final ending? Or will Michael discover in this moment an opportunity to bring his conscience home, to change his life… as Arthur might say, to accept his “summons” and be reborn.
It’s a question, really, for all of us. What brings us to the moment of change? What constellation of events will trigger that revelation in the mirror, that encounter with a modern day Nathan, when those gospel words break through: “What will it profit you if you gain the whole world but forfeit your life? What will you give in return for your life?”
Well, the movie offers some clues about this change – at least for Michael. He takes the cheque… but you can see his hesitation, the inner debate, the temptation, the questions. Arthur was his friend! Michael knows what he has done. He finds himself back at the gambling table… something he had managed to stop; but in despair at the path he has chosen, it looks like he is giving up on himself, not trying any more, no reason to resist going down the addictive road of self-destruction. But again, it’s almost as if he were watching himself. How far down do you have to get before the change happens?
In the midst of the poker game, Michael receives a phone call… another job for the fixer. He drives to the home of a particularly obnoxious client who wants to cover up a “hit-and-run” accident. “You’re the miracle-worker” the jerk whines. “No, I’m not,” says Michael, “I’m the janitor.” And you can see it in his face… his anger; his distaste; his self-contempt at what he is doing, at what his life has become. Again, the question for all of us…. when you see with complete clarity what your life has become … is that enough to trigger the change?
Michael leaves the client’s home… and this is the moment ready-made for a preacher. Because, in early hours of the morning, light just beginning to float over the country landscape, Michael stops his car; gets out; and begins walking up the hill, through the grass, the trees… all done in silence, with occasional birdsong… and then at the top of the hill…. three horses; Michael approaches with outstretched hand, an ache and a hope in his eyes; and a wonder. This is an Eden moment -- wonder, beauty, innocence. But then, precisely at this moment, Michael’s car explodes into a pillar of flame. The fixers for UNorth had decided that Michael had become a threat, and needed to be eliminated; they had planted a bomb in his car… ironically in his GPS, his direction-finder, of all places. You think you know where you are going? Well take a look… that’s what blows apart.
The horses flee; Michael stares in puzzlement… and the preacher hears words from Scripture… “See, this day I put before you life and death. Choose life that you may live.” It probably doesn’t come to any of us with such precise symbolic timing… the meadow, the silence, the animals, the beauty on the one hand; and the car blowing up on the other. But surely, if we had eyes to see and ears to hear, we would recognize that the choice comes to each of us… life and death; the whole world or your soul. Thou art the woman, the man. Choose.
Let me switch metaphors just for a moment. Jesus said, “Enter through the narrow gate, for the gate is wide and the road is easy that leads to destruction, and there are many who take it. For the gate is narrow and the road is hard that leads to life, and there are few who find it.” The narrow road… isn’t that what Michael suddenly sees opening up before him. The narrow way… there are times in my life when I feel like I’m getting a case of “the narrows” – not the blues, but the narrows. When it seems that everything is pressing in on me; when options are disappearing; when key choices need to be made. Those Biblical moments of clarity; Nathanesque; the mirror… the narrows. It’s something Margaret Avison talks about in her poem “The Swimmer’s Moment”:
Let’s not kid ourselves… it’s a hard choice. The way is narrow and challenging… and sometimes it feels more tempting to turn and turn on the rim of suction… surely such endless routine and business will save us? Yes, save us from the hard work, the risks… the black pit and the rapids… but oh, to emerge, after, in the mysterious, and more ample further waters”… isn’t that what we dream of? “I put before you this day life and death; choose life that you may live.”For everyoneThe swimmer’s moment at the whirlpool comes,But many at that moment will not say“This is the whirlpool, then.”By their refusal they are savedFrom the black pit, and also from contestingThe deadly rapids, and emerging In the mysterious, and more ample further waters.And so their bland-blank faces turn and turnPale and forever on the rim of suctionThey will not recognize.
I won’t tell you how the movie ends… but there is redemption; the bad guys get theirs… and Michael… well, he enters the whirlpool. And there are consequences. The film finishes with a final cut of Michael in a taxi… he hands the driver fifty bucks, and says, “Just drive.” The camera closes in on his face for the longest time; you watch the flicker of emotion … no words, just, finally, an enigmatic, small smile… and you think… yes, choose life.