Matthew 18:21-35

Then Peter came and said to him, "Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?" Jesus said to him, "Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times. "For this reason the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his slaves. When he began the reckoning, one who owed him ten thousand talents was brought to him; and, as he could not pay, his lord ordered him to be sold, together with his wife and children and all his possessions, and payment to be made. So the slave fell on his knees before him, saying, "Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything.' And out of pity for him, the lord of that slave released him and forgave him the debt. But that same slave, as he went out, came upon one of his fellow slaves who owed him a hundred denarii; and seizing him by the throat, he said, "Pay what you owe.' Then his fellow slave fell down and pleaded with him, "Have patience with me, and I will pay you.' But he refused; then he went and threw him into prison until he would pay the debt. When his fellow slaves saw what had happened, they were greatly distressed, and they went and reported to their lord all that had taken place. Then his lord summoned him and said to him, "You wicked slave! I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. Should you not have had mercy on your fellow slave, as I had mercy on you?' And in anger his lord handed him over to be tortured until he would pay his entire debt. So my heavenly Father will also do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart."

Today we get Peter - curious, impetuous, trouble-making Peter - asking Jesus some hard questions. “Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?” “Seriously, Jesus, how many times does someone get to get away with something before I can cut them loose and send them away?” “What’s the limit?” “Where’s the line in the sand?” “How much do I have to take before I can say ‘enough is enough’ and feel good about it?”

Peter seems to be wielding forgiveness like some kind of weapon; like he’s using the act of forgiveness as a kind of bargaining chip – like he only has so much of it to give and then the well of his forgiveness will run dry. Forgiveness for Peter seems like a way to gauge the sort of investment he has to make when it comes to sharing God’s grace; like he wants to know just how generous he has to be in the name of Jesus before he can go back to being his regular, old, sinful, broken, score-keeping, grudge-holding, un-forgiving self.

And so, after telling him in not-so-many words that there’s really no limit to how often we’re called to forgive, Jesus tells Peter that story about the unforgiving servant.

The story goes that a king wants to take stock of his estate, to balance his books, perhaps, and so it’s time to collect on his debts. When a slave shows up with a debt too large to pay, the king threatens to sell him off – and his wife, kids and possessions, to boot – so they will both get what’s coming to them. When the poor, pitiful slave begs, though, the king lets him off the hook. And even more than that, really. The king doesn’t just give him more time to pay or simply reduce his interest rate or knock some money off the principle that he’s owed. He forgives him the entire debt. He erases it. Scratches it from his books. The king sends the slave off with a balance of zero – and a smile on his face, I’m sure.

Only until that same slave comes across an acquaintance who owes him some money. And when his buddy can’t pay up, he tosses him in jail until he gets what’s rightfully his.

And when the king hears the news, he’s furious. He calls back the first slave and lets him have it. “I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. Should you not have forgiven your fellow slave as I forgave you?” And because he doesn’t get it, that slave is sent off to be tortured until he can even up things with is lord.

“Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.” (He said it all much more simply in Matthew, Chapter 6.)

But first of all, I want us to look at how this parable ends in a different way than maybe we’re first inclined to hear it. When I hear this bit about being “tortured” – or in other parables we hear about “being thrown into the outer darkness” where there will be “weeping and gnashing of teeth” – I get a little scared. Because that’s terrifying, actually – the weeping and gnashing of teeth, I mean – as I think Jesus means for it to be, frankly.

But I like to remind myself – and anyone who will hear it – that I don’t think this is meant to be about hell or the end of time. I don’t believe Jesus means to suggest we’re going to spend eternity in the company of the devil when we don’t get things right; when we don’t forgive as well or as often as we should. (So let’s all breathe a sigh of relief about that.)

You’ve heard me say before that so often – if not most often – when Jesus talks about the Kingdom of God or the Kingdom of Heaven, he’s not necessarily talking about life after death; or life on the other side of eternity. He’s talking about the impact and blessing of living life – as we know it – in the kingdom that is alive and well among us. And I think we’re allowed to consider “the outer darkness” or this torturous “weeping and gnashing of teeth” stuff, in the same way. I mean, truth be told, just like we don’t have to wait to experience God’s presence “on earth as it is in heaven” every now and again, we don’t have to wait until we’re dead and gone to suffer the consequences of our sinfulness or our less-than-faithful ways, either.

And I think this is especially true when it comes to the way we practice forgiveness – or not.

I still remember a family from my time as a hospital chaplain back in seminary. There were two brothers who’d been fighting for years – holding a grudge, keeping score, had already drawn lines so deeply in the sands of their lives to the degree that they weren’t speaking to each other, or even able to be in the same room together peaceably.

It got so bad for these brothers that when their mother lay dying in the hospital, they’d worked out a plan whereby their visits were timed just so, so that – while they wanted one of them to be with her 24-hours a day - only one of them was able to be by mom’s side at any given moment. If one brother showed up while the other was there, he’d wait down the hall until his brother left – in the opposite direction, down another hallway, using a different set of elevators or stairs or whatever.

No matter how much she begged them – or how close she came to dying – this mother couldn’t convince her sons to be together at her deathbed. When she did finally die, only one brother was there to hold her and the other was in the hallway waiting, with so much more than just the hospital room door between him and his family. It’s not too much to suggest that he and she and they and their family were each tormented and tortured by the unforgiveness that kept them from loving one another. Do you know anyone lives like that?

I saw a meme on Facebook, just this week which – to be honest – probably wasn’t meant to be about forgiveness, but it struck me that way, in light of today’s Gospel. The meme said simply, “Just because you carry it well, doesn’t mean it’s not heavy.”

“Just because you carry it well, doesn’t mean it’s not heavy.”

This is the kind of “torture” I imagine Jesus was talking about … the burden of unforgiveness. This is the sort of pain that the lack of forgiveness inflicts. It’s exactly the opposite of what God would have for us and it’s the sort of distance and division and desperation that only true forgiveness can cure. But damn, do we carry it well!

And God doesn’t want that for us.

And it’s important to know that forgiveness doesn’t always mean one side is right and another side is wrong. Forgiveness isn’t about proving a point or staking a claim on the truth or accepting or approving an apology, even. Forgiveness isn’t about winning. It’s about being made free.

Yes, to forgive another is a wonderful gift to give away. But it’s also something we do for ourselves, just the same. We do it because we don’t want to live in bondage. We forgive because grudges and memories of sin are heavy burdens to carry. We forgive because we know it’s been done for us in more ways than we can count. And we forgive because to refuse it is to refuse God’s place in our lives.

I’m certain God wants forgiveness to bless the life of the one who offers it, just as much as it might liberate the ones who do the damage. And we find ourselves on both sides of that equation from time to time, do we not?

It’s why God, in Jesus, made it to the cross and up from the tomb. (“Just because he carried it well, doesn’t mean it wasn’t heavy.”) And it’s why God’s forgiveness is so big: so that all of our debts are forgiven and so that we can live differently because of it – not carrying the burden of our grudges or our shame, but carrying the light of God’s grace and mercy into – and for the sake of – the world.

Amen

Matthew 18:15-20

“If another member of the church sins against you, go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone. If the member listens to you, you have regained that one. But if you are not listened to, take one or two others along with you, so that every word may be confirmed by the evidence of two or three witnesses. If the member refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church; and if the offender refuses to listen even to the church, let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector. Truly I tell you, whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven. Again, truly I tell you, if two of you agree on earth about anything you ask, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven. For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.”

In my next life I hope to be a great novelist. I don’t even have to be a great one…I’d just love to be able to hold a book in my own hands that I wrote—an original story that makes some positive impression and impact on the larger society. I would like to write a story about reconciliation—a heartwarming tale of two individuals at odds—bitter enemies, perhaps—who come to a great reckoning whereby both people grow, change, and recognize that the other person is deserving of love and respect. It would not be a story of one person winning at the expense of the other. It would not be a story of tolerance—as though the best we can hope for in our world is to plug our noses, close our eyes, and merely tolerate the presence of someone else. No, it would be a story that makes it clear there is something profoundly beautiful, right, and holy about overcoming division and developing an authentic love for one’s enemy. But, like I said, that’s for my next life. I’m simply not creative enough to write a story like that.

This my great confession to you today—a disclaimer, really, given the nature of today’s gospel lesson. I cannot think of anyone with whom I had a serious or consequential falling out and now enjoy a restored relationship. I’d forgive you for assuming this is because I’m such an easygoing and lighthearted person that I simply haven’t made any enemies. But, alas, that’s not the case. As I’ve made enemies and had my fair share of disagreements…but not much reconciliation has resulted. What I’m trying to say is, this is an incredibly difficult sermon for me to preach!

I feel like I don’t have a deep well of reconciliation stories to draw from. It’s not something that has been modeled for me throughout my life and it is certainly hard to find today. Forgiveness and reconciliation are not really virtues that are held up by American society. Prevailing over the enemy…pursuing one’s one happiness regardless of everyone else…those are honestly way more synchronous with American values than are reconciliation or forgiveness.

This is pervasive throughout our culture. Most popular books and movies can be boiled down to the same fundamental conflict between good and evil, with the good prevailing and the evil being destroyed. Throw in some outstanding special effects and some attractive people in the lead roles and you’re guaranteed to have a blockbuster on your hands.

I can’t think of many stories that prize reconciliation—stories where conflicting parties overcome very real animosity towards one another, learn to appreciate and respect one another, and accomplish something together that they could not on their own. The only one I’ve come up with so far is the movie, Remember the Titans about the desegregated football team that unites after initial race-related struggles. I’m sure there are other stories and I would love for you to remind me of them, but I think you’ll agree these stories are few and far between—hence the need for my great novel.

We have to be careful because there are a few people who tout themselves as examples of reconciliation, but it’s often a cheap veneer. One I became aware of during my visit to South Africa is Christo Brand. He was a young white jailer at Robben Island—the prison in South Africa that held Nelson Mandela for 18 of his 27 years of incarceration. Christo enjoyed a degree of notoriety following Mandela’s release because he told stories about how he and Mandela had become friends during Mandela’s incarceration. He even wrote a book called Mandela: My Prisoner, My Friend. He has made a comfortable living off the book and speaking engagements; and today through Airbnb you can pay for a private dinner at a fancy restaurant in Cape Town with Christo where he will regale you with stories of his friendship with Nelson Mandela. Though, interestingly, I’ve read Mandela’s autobiography and Christo Brand gets exactly one mention in the nearly 700-page tome. Far from being an example of extraordinary reconciliation, Christo Brand is simply a man who has never had to atone for his role in an unjust and immoral society and instead continues to profit off his role within the apartheid system even today. That is not the kind of reconciliation Jesus holds out as exemplary.

Jesus’ idea of reconciliation involves confrontation and conflict. It involves standing up for what is right and checking your idea of right and wrong with others in your faith community. Jesus’ idea of reconciliation involves the restoration of the entire community, which benefits everyone. Jesus’ idea of reconciliation is unwavering. Recall Jesus says, “and if the offender refuses to listen even to the church, let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector.” This is not permission to dismiss the offender or exclude him from the community. After all, how did Jesus treat Gentiles and tax collectors? He sought them out and never stopped inviting them into the restorative community.

The Christian message itself is one of reconciliation and restoration. For me to say that I do not have many examples of reconciliation in my life is an admission that I have not let Jesus guide me. Christ-followers are to build their entire lives upon the foundation of God’s character and God’s promises. God continually seeks us out, forgives us, invites us into a restorative relationship and community, and equips us to do the same toward others. I take no pride in telling you this morning that I find that terribly difficult to do. After all, what kind of leader would pride himself on breaking relationships and not seeking forgiveness from others or from God? But I hope that my admission will invite you to examine your own life in case you, like me, have strayed from the path of discipleship.

I don’t mean for this to be a downer of a sermon. After all, you are the few who bothered to show up on a holiday weekend so I don’t want to you walk away feeling like you didn’t hear the good news. So, hear the good news. God is characterized by grace, forgiveness, and reconciliation. God’s kingdom is characterized by grace, forgiveness, and reconciliation. And God’s people are meant to live lives characterized by grace, forgiveness, and reconciliation. That is our foundation and our destination. The fact that we see so little of this in these days is an indictment of our sin; but it is also an invitation to seek God’s help as we seek to rise above our selfish impulses and restore broken relationships. God can and will change our hearts, but only if we genuinely desire it.

I pray for you, my brothers and sisters in Christ, that your lives would be infused with stories and examples of reconciliation. I pray that our country would experience reconciliation in these divisive times—reconciliation built on truth and trust in God’s character of grace. I pray that our church would be a place of holy confrontation and accountability, so that when even two or three of us are gathered, God would be among us. And I pray that my life would end up being one great story of reconciliation.

Amen.

The Freedom of Forgiveness

O Reconciliation, Where Art Thou?