Matthew 18:21-25
First Presbyterian Church of Clarksville, AR and Harmony
Presbyterian Church
September 16,2012
The Rev. Dr. Robert Wm Lowry
This
week, in the wake of the 11th anniversary of the inhuman attacks on
the World Trade Center towers, religious intolerance and violence reared their ugly heads again in
the form of a pitiful film on the internet and mobs rioting across North Africa
and the Arabian Peninsula. These events
remind us that anger and fear continue to find great purchase in the world
while forgiveness and peace are less often encountered on a human scale.
For
that reason, I depart from the lectionary text for today and invite your
attention to the 18th chapter of Matthew’s gospel. Hear the word of the Lord.
A few
summers ago I was in Europe and as all tourists do, I visited several of those
innumerable castles that are there. But after a while one castle starts to look
like another, no matter what country you’re in or what period the castle was
built.
There was
one in particular, however, that I remember very well. It was the one with the
maze.
Whoever
built the castle thought that as a protective device as well as an
entertainment he would build a very complicated labyrinth of hedges, a puzzle
that has been carefully tended and meticulously groomed all through the
centuries. Over time the hedges have grown to about eight or nine feet high,
tall enough to prevent you from getting your bearings once inside.
I thought I
could probably knock off that maze in about five minutes, and I said as much to
the attendant at the entrance as I went in. He was European, stuffy, and not
amused. From his look I suspected he had seen my kind go in that maze and never
come out again.
The first
part wasn’t too hard, a left here, a right there. It was going rather well, I
thought. Except of course, I kept hitting blind allies. Soon I found I was
passing people in both directions who looked vaguely familiar to me.
I began to
get a little concerned after about a half an hour or so when I heard voices on
the other side of the hedges that seemed to come and then go.
It became
more and more frustrating the longer I searched. I started to imagine that
nightfall would come and I would still be there, trying to make my way by
moonlight.
At last the
attendant from the entrance came up to me doing what must have been one of his
hourly sweeps of the lost. “Having trouble are we?” he asked trying to keep his
face straight. “Just follow me,” he said. “It’s by the narrow way.”
And sure
enough there was a kind of gap in the hedges that served as the narrow door to
the last row leading to the exit. And standing sideways you could make it
through and be on your way. But for those unaccustomed to mazes, or to risking
a slightly different way of solving the puzzle it proved too difficult to
resolve.
It was as I
was leaving the maze that I discovered the attendant was a Christian as he
paraphrased Jesus, “Don’t feel bad,” he said smugly, “many have tried, few are
able.”[i]
I cannot
help but think of those words when I read this text from Matthew’s gospel.
Then Peter
came to him and said, “how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?”
Jesus said
to him, “Not seven times, but I tell you, seven times seventy times.”
Many have
tried, few are able.
Tough
stuff.
Like
so many parts of scripture though, a cursory one dimensional reading of the
text lets us off the hook to some degree.
The
king, obviously representing God, has loaned to the servant, that would be us,
more than the servant may ever repay.
Sounds
about right.
God
has given us life, love, beauty, creation, sustenance, hope, salvation, grace,
and even the life and death of God’s own son.
There is no way that we can repay that debt. It is the spiritual equivalent of an
insurmountable sum like the debt of the servant. All we can do is our feeble best in response
to God’s great generosity.
A
cursory reading makes it easy to file the forgiveness demanded under the
category of cheap grace and go on about our business to bigger things. After all, we are not God and none of us
could begin to match the grace of God. l
By
this shallow reading, our calling is to be gracious to one another all the
while being comforted that there is no way we can be gracious the way God is
gracious to us.
Cheap
grace, costless grace, the gracious equivalent of giving it the old college try
could surely fill that bill.
Except
for one thing. That little math lesson
that Jesus inserts in the exchange with Peter.
How
often must we forgive? Not once, not
twice, not even a dozen times. We are
called to forgive seven times seventy times.
Seven
times seventy.
Now
if you are like me, you have already figured out that seven times seventy times
is four hundred ninety times. A lot
perhaps, but still manageable. At least
there is still an end point when I can forget trying to forgive what I cannot
seem or do not want to forgive.
No
such luck, friends. When Jesus tells
Peter, and us that we are called to forgive seven times seventy times, he is
painting a picture of forgiveness that goes on and on and on without end. We are called to forgive not a finite number
of times with an end point in mind, but on and on and on like grace-filled
energizer bunnies beating the drum of forgiveness well beyond the visible
horizon of time.
Then Peter
came to him and said, “how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?”
Jesus said
to him, “Not seven times, but I tell you, seven times seventy times.”
Many
have tried, few are able.
It
is no wonder that we find it so tough to forgive. Forgiveness is difficult in our culture. It flies in the face of almost every one of
our contemporary cultural values.
The
culture values the supremacy of my individual will- forgiveness requires me to
reflect God’s.
The
culture values the supremacy of my freedom to live as I please- forgiveness
requires me to follow God’s command.
The
culture values power over weakness- it is difficult to extend the hand of
forgiveness if you are still holding your sword.
The
culture values being right- forgiveness values being righteous in the eyes of
God.
Forgiveness
is difficult in our culture.
Yet
forgiving not once not twice but seven times seventy is what we are called to
do. It is what we are called to be; people
who forgive so easily and so often that it is nearly impossible to count how
often we forgive.
Last
week we remembered events on a beautiful September morning eleven years ago; events
that represented yet another attempt by hate and division to destroy the fabric
of the human community.
18
men, misguided and mistaken about what truly resides in the heart of God, took
the lives of thousands and shook the lives of millions by acts of inexcusable
terror.
Also
last week, a misguided bigot made a film with the sole purpose of inciting rage
and hurt in the world’s Muslim population.
It worked. Mobs inflamed by anger
and resentment attacked innocent men and women in embassies across North Africa
and the Arabian Peninsula destroying property and taking the lives of four in
Lybia including the American Ambassador who was, by all accounts, a tireless
public servant committed to international respect and peace.
Inexcusable.
These
events and intentional actions that caused harm and incited violence across the
world are inexcusable.
But
what about unforgiveable?
How
often should I forgive? As often as
seven times?
Not
seven times, but I tell you, seven times seventy times.
Many
have tried, few are able.
Finding
even the smallest corner of our hearts to tuck away a grain of forgiveness for
the sort of evil and intolerance that led to the events memorialized and the
events that occurred last week feels like a monumental, almost insurmountable,
task.
For
my part, I recall landing in Newark Airport on September 13 the day air traffic
resumed after 9/11. When the airplane
banked over northern New Jersey and began to fly down the Hudson toward
Newark’s runway, I had a clear view of lower Manhattan out my window. The skyline looked as though it was missing
its two front teeth with the twin towers of the Trade Centers gone and the
smoke and ash that still rose from the smoldering rubble looked as if the world
was being cooked from the inside out.
Forget
seven times seventy times, thinking of who and what had led to this madness, one
act of forgiveness was going to be a stretch.
And
to be honest, it still is in some measure.
I still have a difficult time watching or reading a news story without
the memory of that morning sneaking in and making the whole thing fresh again;
the fear, the shock, the anger. How
could such a thing possibly ever be forgiven?
As
I worked on this sermon, I was reminded of a story recounted by Rabbi Harold
Kushner. He recalls:
A
woman in my congregation comes to see me.
She is a single mother, divorced, working to support herself and three
young children. She says to me, “Since
my husband walked out on us, every month is a struggle to pay our bills. I have to tell my kids we have no money to go
to the movies, while he’s living it up with his new wife in another state. How can you tell me to forgive him?” I answer her, “I’m not asking you to forgive
him because what he did was acceptable.
It wasn’t; it was mean and selfish.
I’m asking you to forgive because he doesn’t deserve the power to live
in your head and turn you into a bitter angry woman. I’d like to see him out of your life
emotionally as completely as he is physically, but you keep holding on to
him. You’re not hurting him by holding
on to that resentment, but you’re hurting yourself.”[ii]
For we who have, as individuals, as
a nation, even as a world walked through the labyrinth of emotions and pain in
the years since September 11, 2001 and witnessing the continuing challenge of
violence in the world today, clinging to anger and fear has become almost
second nature. Yet in the midst of our
remembrance and the rekindling of our anxiety and anger, Christ calls us to
leave by the narrow way; by the way of forgiveness.
I
make no claims that forgiving is easy when memories are so painful. Nonetheless, like Kushner, I think it is time
that we as a community, as a nation deny the culture of hate and evil that
prompted those attacks power in our lives.
It
is time that we as a community, deny the culture of vengeance the opportunity
to turn us into unforgiving people.
As
politicians and pundits, and yes, even pastors take to the national stage and
declare that the only reasonable and rational response to hate and anger is
more hate and anger, we as a community of Christ must stand against the prevailing
cultural winds and say no. No to
hate. No to violence. No to intolerance.
In
short, it is time that we who know the whelming joy and grace that comes from
being God’s forgiven children begin to experience the joy and grace of
being God’s forgiving children.\
To
put it plainly, that is the only true and faithful response according to the
word of Jesus Christ; to confront hate and intolerance with love and
forgiveness.
How
often should I forgive? As often as
seven times?
Not
seven times, but I tell you, seven times seventy times.
Many
have tried, few are able, but all are called.
Sola
Deo Gloria! To God alone be the glory!
Amen.
[i]
This story, retold in the first person for rhetorical effect, is recalled from a sermon heard many years ago. I apologize for not giving attribution to the original preacher. I recall the sermon but not the preacher, often a sign of a good homiletician.
[ii]
As referenced in Feasting on the Word, Year A Volume 4.
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