Forgiven
Matthew 18:21-35
I celebrated a memorial service for a man whose life spanned in excess
of 100 years last week. A century of life is no longer a
particularly remarkable thing. In fact, the funeral home was
anxious to get the service “out of the way” because two others were
scheduled immediately afterwards – for folks over 90! But it does
make for a lot of opportunity to cause hurt to others.
As is often the case, I did not know in life, the man whose death I now
must honor. However, as always, any death reminds us of the
deaths we have experienced and of our own death yet to come so there is
always a measure of understanding. In this instance, as in many
others, I had to depend on the stories told by his family members and
friends to bring together some thoughts about his life. It turned
out that this man had three wives – and had driven them all away.
He was, in fact, cruel to them. The stories revealed that here
was a man with many positive qualities but one whose faults were
obvious to those who lived around him.
But what I found perhaps most remarkable of all was that there were
over 40 people at his funeral, including his only surviving
ex-wife. It was, as his son said, “He had his faults, but we can
try to remember the good things.”
“Lord … how often should I forgive? As
many as seven times?” “Not seven times, but, I tell you,
seventy-seven times.”
Some of you will notice that the pericope read in the NRSV of
Matthew’s Gospel varies a bit from that in many other translations
where it is written “seventy-seven times” rather than “seven times
seventy.” One reason the Greeks and Romans failed to make more
headway in the fields of mathematics and science than they did was
their lack of a number system – it was to fall to the Arabs to create a
unique set of symbols for that purpose. But it is the very
vagueness in ancient numerology which gave rise to a sense of respect
for and depth of meaning to those words used for numbers. And the
sacred nature of the number seven as a number of fulfillment, of
completeness, is reflected in both Peter’s question and Jesus’ response.
Theologically – Matthew writes in such a way as to demonstrate Jesus’
fulfilling and completing themes begun in the Old Testament. Here
the use of seventy-seven echoes a principle observed in Genesis
4. Cain, upon being sent out after killing Abel is given a mark
and a protection of sorts. If he is killed to avenge the death of
Abel, God promises seven-fold revenge. Six generation later, his
distant grandson, Lamech, claims a similar protection. For
killing a youth who injured him, he claims that if one wishes to avenge
that death, he will feel revenge, not seven-fold, but seventy-seven
fold! Violence, begets violence, vengeance, leads to increased
vengeance – a deadly and futile circle of division and hate. So
it is that Jesus offers the solution to that circle of violence by
pointing to seventy-seven fold forgiveness as the way of hope, of
life. Forgiveness begets forgiveness, love begets love, life
begets life.
But so much for abstractions and principles. We must take this
lesson from the head to the heart, to incorporate into our real
lives. It is no stretch to say that Jesus is pointing to
unlimited forgiveness. Recalling the gospel lesson from last
week, Peter’s question we read today was triggered by Jesus’
instruction on dealing with the friend, the fellow traveler in The Way,
who harms others and is then confronted, apologizes, and is
forgiven. Imagine the questions that teaching raised in the
disciple’s minds: But what if they sin again? What about
restitution? What about retribution? How often must we let
others hurt us? How many times must we forgive?
The simple answer is that we are to forgive without limit. But
there is more to it than that. Jesus continues with a parable to
highlight the impact of forgiveness and unforgiveness in human
relationships. Too often we try to read this parable from above –
from the view of punishing the wrong – but I think we are also invited
to hear what Jesus is saying from below – from the view of the second
debtor, the one cast into prison. What is gained by finding the
first debtor imprisoned alongside him? Is there a way out of this
conundrum, a way which would conclude in a positive result for
all? Let’s look a little closer.
This parable surely highlights the consequences of unforgiveness while
opening the door to our thinking about the benefits, the rewards, of a
forgiving spirit.
Unforgiveness bears fruit of bitterness, division, and desire for
vengeance. It saps our creative energy and drains our capacity to
grow in spirit. Forgiveness, it turns out, is liberating,
restorative, and energy generating. It feeds the spirit and
brings life to the dead places in the world around us. However,
forgiveness is also risky and comes at a price – we must give up our
claim to self-righteousness, even when we are the victim, and that is
difficult. Acceptance in principle of the virtue of forgiveness
is not the same as putting it into practice. I, as have many of
you, only began to understand this through experience.
My dad was an alcoholic – a binge drinker who could fail to come home
evenings, could run an auto into a ditch, and could be abusive when
drunk. One learned that if Dad wasn’t home by dinner time, it was
best to be asleep when he did get home.
Without delving into unnecessary details, let me say that I grew up
with a great deal of resentment and anger, full of disrespect for my
father. Certainly he was not without his good days but our
overall relationship was tainted by the effects of his excessive
drinking and attendant behavior. I would say that as I got older
I made choices that kept me out of the home as much as possible and as
a young adult, settled into a place of remoteness and unfeeling
acceptance.
I was in my 40s when Dad developed a terminal cancer – one that one
made him bed-ridden for the last six months of his life. In those
six months, we came to know each other in a new way. Knowledge
and understanding are powerful tools for coming to forgiveness.
We had some frank discussions about suffering, sickness, spiritual
needs, sin, and forgiveness. I count it as a privilege and a gift
to have been holding his hand when he awoke from a coma at the end to
open his eyes, squeeze my hand, and lie back in death. In that
moment, that action, a new page in love and forgiveness opened for me
and for our relationship.
In the years since I have realized what the effects of his being
orphaned at age six, sent to live with an abusive grandparent and
running away to live on the streets at age 8, of seeing a lifelong
dream of having a subsistence farm evaporate, lost to the realities of
post-World War II economics and the drought conditions of the early
1950s. Forgiveness does not excuse the faults nor erase their
injury but it can help relieve anger and loose the bonds of
resentment. It lets one see that just as being a victim is wrong
so is the desire to wreak vengeance on the one who is the victimizer.
That is the message I learned from my father’s death. That is the
message Jesus Christ preached throughout Judea, it is the message of
the cross. It is difficult to forgive when we can see
that hurt and injury came from miscommunication or as a consequence of
circumstances beyond the control of the one who is causing harm.
It may seem impossible when that hurt is inflicted intentionally.
Each week, as we pray just before receiving communion, we ask
forgiveness for our sins, even as we forgive those who sin against
us. It isn’t easy to forgive others. It is perhaps harder,
even, to forgive ourselves. It is costly, it cost Jesus his
life. But God stamped that position with approval on Easter
morning. Learning to forgive, to risk giving up our sense of
control over our situation, is what we do here at the altar. And
so we gather each week to remember his death, to celebrate his
resurrection, to await his coming in glory.
And therein we find the path to solving the conundrum of how we might
honor justice and truth whilst practicing forgiveness and
restoration. Forgiveness opens the way to creative solutions to
difficult problems. It can form the base for a hopeful future as
we seek ways to heal hurts while preventing abuse and further
injustice. Forgiveness does not excuse, it is not about getting
away with something. Forgiveness is about rebuilding where a
foundation has been damaged, about restoring what is broken, about
proclaiming the power of love over hate, of life over death.
The popularity of the Thomas Blackshear painting, Forgiven,
depicting the Risen Christ holding up the man with the hammer which
drove the nails into his hands and feet reflects the depths of our wish
to experience forgiveness. The reality of that forgiveness is at
once powerful and complex.
Truly, Paul’s words serve to remind us, daily, of our role in breaking the world’s cycle of victimization and futile revenge:
We do not live to ourselves, and we do not die
to ourselves. If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we
die to the Lord; so then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the
Lord’s.
Amen.
The Rev. John Dryden Burton
September 14, 2008