Sermon for Sunday, September 17, 2023 || Proper 19A || Matthew 18:21-35
This sermon is about forgiveness. And we enter into this discussion, as we have several times recently, through the experience of Saint Peter. I’ve been talking a lot about Peter over the last few months, and that’s because he appears more in the Gospel than any other character besides Jesus. In Matthew’s account of the Gospel, which we’ve been reading this year, Peter is even more prevalent. Peter is something of the spokesperson for the disciples; he doesn’t seem to have a filter of any kind. He has no problem asking Jesus questions or answering Jesus’ questions, which he always seems to do with gut responses.
In today’s Gospel reading, Peter has just heard Jesus talk about what to do when there is conflict among the faithful. And now Peter wants to pin down how many times he has to forgive someone. Knowing that Jesus is the generous sort, Peter shoots high. Seven times. Seems a bit excessive, but still in the ballpark of reasonable. And it’s a nice number that, in Peter’s culture, evoked a sense of completion.
For once Jesus answers the question Peter asks him, but, predictably, his answer astounds nonetheless. “Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times.” I imagine Peter started doing the math in his head, so Jesus heads him off before he can misunderstand Jesus’ purposeful hyperbole. Seventy-seven times is a lot; really, more than we can easily count, and that’s sort of the point.
Jesus continues the hyperbole with the parable he tells next. Somehow a servant has accrued a debt to his master that is just absurdly high. He owes his master 10,000 talents. Here’s the conversion. 10,000 talents is equal to 150,000 years worth of typical daily wages. I did the math using the minimum wage in Connecticut. It’s a little over 4.5 billion dollars. See what I mean about Jesus’ hyperbole? The servant had a debt that neither he, nor the next three thousand generations of his family could ever hope to pay off.
But his master forgives the whole debt. All of it. Just waves a hand, and the debt is forgiven. Now, you’d think that the servant would just float away after having such a heavy weight lifted from his chest. But he doesn’t float. He sinks. Someone else owes him 100 denarii – that’s just three months wages – about $7,200 in Connecticut in 2023, so, you know, a little less than $4.5 billion. And does the servant forgive the $7,200 debt? No! He has the other guy thrown in jail instead.
The servant learns nothing from the master’s example. Rather than having such extravagant forgiveness change him, he keeps operating under an old “I’d better get mine” paradigm.
But that’s exactly what forgiveness does. Forgiveness changes us. It lifts weights from us that we may not realize we are carrying, both when we need forgiveness and when we need to forgive. Experiencing forgiveness causes us to grow more generous, more vulnerable, and more loving: more generous because we don’t usually deserve the forgiveness we receive, nor does the other usually deserve the forgiveness we offer; more vulnerable because we are more ready to take risks in relationships when we know making mistakes isn’t the end; and more loving because forgiveness helps us stick together through thick and thin, allowing love to sink its roots deeper and deeper.
On the other hand, not forgiving keeps us stuck in the past. We relive old slights. We marinate in the stale juices of bitterness. We feast on old grievances until we look down and see the bowl is actually empty. Over time, the weight pushes us down, contorting us until we are misshapen versions of our true selves.
When we accept Jesus’ invitation to forgive 77 times, Jesus has the opportunity to reshape us, to change us for the better, through the power of forgiveness. Unlike Peter’s guess of seven times, Jesus didn’t mean exactly 77. He didn’t mean for us to take out our accounting ledgers. No. Just look at the number. Two sevens. Two instances of completion. A beginning and an end. A life made complete by the grace-filled act of forgiveness.
Jesus’ special prayer that he teaches his disciples makes clear his focus on forgiveness for the lives of his followers. “Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” Forgiveness is not just something we do occasionally. Like our daily bread sustaining us each and every day, forgiveness is a posture that we can employ all the time, an attitude that leads to open, trusting, caring, and fulfilling relationships. Forgiveness is an act of grace, a gift given or received whether or not it is deserved.
One of the most common things I hear when I talk to people about forgiveness is a worry that forgiving someone just enables toxic behavior. I totally understand that view, and I sympathize. But hidden in that viewpoint is a linkage that I don’t think is really there. The false linkage is that forgiveness condones bad behavior. But the opposite is actually true. If the behavior were condoned, forgiveness would not be necessary. Forgiveness acknowledges and takes seriously the hurt which the behavior has caused. The person doing the forgiving can then move on without being shackled to this past painful moment. The person granted forgiveness has the opportunity to reevaluate their choices and perhaps change for the better. Change, then, is not a prerequisite for forgiveness; it’s a possible outcome of a weight lifted.
If any of this is resonating with you, if you’re squirming in your pew a little bit, perhaps you’ve been sitting down to that empty feast. Perhaps Jesus is calling you to practice the posture of forgiveness in your life. If that’s you, then I have an exercise for you. If you’re having trouble forgiving someone, try this: Get a cardboard box that’s just a bit too big for you to hold easily. Then fill it with books. Each day, come to God in prayer and ask for the grace to practice forgiveness, but don’t forgive anyone yet. After you pray this, take a book out of the box and then try to lift the box. On the second day, it’ll still be too heavy to pick up. But don’t worry, the weight will lessen each day. After a few weeks, the box will be noticeably lighter. The weight you’ve been carrying around, that weight that’s been mishaping you, will be lighter too. Pretty soon the box will be empty, and you’ll be able to carry it with no problem. On that day, come to God in prayer, and offer your forgiveness to the person you’ve been thinking of. And that might be that. Or you might decide to offer it them face to face. Either way, you will have practiced what Jesus teaches: a life made more generous, vulnerable, and loving through the grace-filled practice of forgiveness.
Photo by Chris Vanhove on Unsplash.
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The Podcast for Nerdy Christians, where faith meets fandom. Carrie and Adam are back at long last for Season 6. We’ve both loved Doctor Who forever but have only marginally talked about the show on the podcast. That changes today!
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Thank you, Adam, for the recognition that the weight of non-forgiving (if that’s even a word) is as heavy as the weight of shame, and perhaps even harder to bear over time.