A Parable of Unforgiveness
17th Sunday after Pentecost
Matthew 18:21-35
Peter always asked the wrong question. It seems that we often do the same. “How often shall my brother sin against me and I forgive him?” Seven times?” Is that reasonable forbearance?
There were better questions to ask.
Perhaps it is in the providence of God that we encounter this question four years to the date after 9-11. We might ask some questions. Is there ever a sin so heinous – so terrible in ramification – that we are right to not forgive? Is there a statute of limitations on forgiveness? Is four years long enough? Is four years long enough to hang on to our unforgiveness, or does a crime of that magnitude require a lifetime of unforgiveness?
Or then again, perhaps it is in the providence of God that we encounter this question while we are in the middle of a war against terrorism. Does the fact that we are in the midst of a war require that I maintain a spirit of unforgiveness in my heart? Is it possible to seek retaliation, and at the same time to protect our great country – is it possible to do those things without harboring unforgiveness in our hearts?
And still again - perhaps it is in the providence of God that we encounter Peter’s question in the aftermath of a natural disaster that has produced immeasurable human suffering – not to mention the additional human suffering which is a result of the political maneuvering which has taken place - on an unprecedented scale. Undoubtedly, there is enough blame to go around several times – and land on any number of supposedly responsible people – everybody wants to blame someone. Everyone has an opinion on this one – I’m still waiting to encounter the first person who is unwilling to assess blame toward someone. And all of us are still waiting to encounter the first person who is willing to stick his or her hand in the air and say, “It’s my fault. Here – blame me!! Now, let’s go on.” So here might be the better question for us to be asking in the coming week – can I serve my fellow sisters and brothers and harbor unforgiveness in my heart toward the politicos who do not agree with my particular opinions?
There are even a few folks who want to blame God – perhaps for all of it. I was talking with a friend on Friday morning, and he said that to their credit, out of all the people who have been affected by this tragedy, he had yet to see one of them blame God. I’ve seen a few. Not those who were affected. And not many, mind you – but I’ve run across the occasional fundamentalist who says that “God was responsible as He meted out his wrath on that den of iniquity, New Orleans, which certainly was what they deserved.” There’s a side of me that wants to limit my exposure to that kind of thinking to dim-witted fundamentalists, but the truth of the matter is that there’s a part of every one of us that wants to blame God. That “blame game” goes back to Eden’s garden – where God confronts Adam about his sin and his nakedness, and Adam says, “Well, God – the woman You gave me . . .” Yeah, we all want to blame God.
It wasn’t a very good question. But Jesus gave Peter an answer anyway. 490. There - now you have it. 490. That’s all – You and I don’t have to forgive our brothers and sisters any more than 490 times. We can break that down a lot of different ways. Only once a day for just a little over a year. Yessiree, that’s the kind of answer I needed. No dragging this thing out. “Let’s clarify a little more, Jesus. Now, is that all of my brothers and sisters combined? I mean, when they’ve collectively sinned against me 490 times, can I stop forgiving? Or is that 490 for each brother and sister? Hmm – maybe I need to work up an accounting system. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do – I’ll open up a spreadsheet in Excel and start a page for each person. And I’ll list their sins. Jesus, is that for all of each person’s sins as a whole. You know, is Mike allowed only 490, and then I can stop forgiving him? Do I have to break it down by sin? Could it be that I have to forgive each person for each kind of sin 490 times? Wow, that’s gonna take a big spreadsheet. But at least I have a number.”
You know, we learn this unforgiveness in families. Peter asked how often he had to forgive his brother – kinda makes you wonder what old Andrew had done, doesn’t it? This is the same Andrew who had first introduced Peter to Jesus. Oh, well – even evangelist brothers can fall from grace. Besides, Andrew was the younger brother, and big brothers need to keep their position in the hierarchy!! Yeah, we first learn unforgiveness in the family. “Momma, Tony was sitting on my bed listening to my 8-track, and Rusty left his Hot Wheels in the floor and I stepped on one, and Tracy won’t stop singing that stupid Mister Rogers song – it isn’t such a beautiful day in my neighborhood!! Tell them to leave me alone!!!!!” Yeah, we learn unforgiveness in families. We learn to harbor grudges and resentment and bitterness in the bosom of those we first loved and competed with for love. It is in our families that we first learn that unforgiveness is power – and power is hard to come by in families.
Okay – say you aren’t the fundamentalist “bean counting” kind of Christian. Maybe there’s something else here – were not looking for a number, no matter how outrageous it is. Maybe we’re looking for a principle. Yeah, that’s it!! Here’s the axiom – “Unforgiveness is permitted where principle is involved.” If someone violates a principle for which I stand – social, Christian– unforgiveness is understood and even expected. Yeah, that’s it. “Why don’t you tell us a story to explain it, Jesus.”
“For this reason the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a certain king who wished to settle accounts with his slaves.” Isn’t it just like Jesus to give us a story about forgiveness by pointing out our unforgiveness? The king wanted to settle accounts. We don’t know why – we just know that he’s calling in the books. Everyone’s gonna get examined. After they’ve been at it a while, they drag in this loser of a slave who owes so much he’ll never be able to repay – not in his lifetime, anyway. We get the sense that maybe this isn’t the first time this king has run into this bum before. Maybe this was 491st time he’d been called on the carpet. Anyway, the king was tired of it all, and so he commands that this mooch and his wife and his kids and his dogs be sold on the open market – liquidated, like so much merchandise.
I’ve read this story a hundred times. Never did I feel anything but sympathy for the king. We understand his situation. He’s got king-stuff to be doing, this bum isn’t paying up, and it’s starting to cut into his schedule. I used to own a couple of rent houses here in town, and it really “got my goat” when my tenants wouldn’t pay their rent. This guy’s exactly the same, only a hundred-thousand-million times worse. So, I’ve always sympathized with this old king. I guess we all do.
What’s the slave to do? He goes to begging. I watched one of Tom Hanks’ latest movies a couple of weeks ago – “The Terminal”. I can actually recommend this one, although parents need to check it out first for language – it’s a cute movie with a really good “feel good” theme – Hanks’ character – a Russian - gets stuck in a New York airport on a snafu, and lives there for several months – really funny movie. At one point in the movie, another Russian is being detained for trying to import drugs for his ailing father, and Hanks is called in to translate. When the mean old airport “head honcho” finally pronounces his decision, this poor Russian drops to his knees and starts begging him. Hanks says, “He’s begging you.” As if everyone doesn’t already get that part. Well, our bum of a slave starts begging the king, and, well, he’s just so pitiful and sorry, that the king relents, waves a royal hand, and pardons the guy. Right there on the spot. I don’t know about you, but at this moment in the story, I really, really like this king. What a guy!! Benevolent, caring, gracious – just the kind of king we hope God will be when He calls in our debts.
So, the slave goes out, and just happens to run into a slave friend of his, and this slave owes him, oh, I don’t know – maybe $20. He doesn’t say a thing – he just starts choking this other slave and is yelling at him to pay up. And the 2nd slave does exactly what the 1st slave did – begs for his life – and the 1st slave, in a display of feckless power – has him thrown in jail.
Wow. Now, we’re really mad at this guy. Imagine the nerve. Imagine not forgiving someone else when we have been forgiven so much. We can’t believe it – what a . . .
“Wait a second, Jesus . . . You’re talking about us, aren’t you? We’re that first slave. You’ve caught us being so very human. You’ve caught us taking it out on each other when God has forgiven us so much more.
Monday I traveled to Granbury to stay at Mom’s, and then on Tuesday, Mom and Rusty and Tracy and I traveled to Waco to bury my sister-in-law Laura’s mom. Monday night, Tracy asked me what I was preaching this week, and I told her “the gospel.” Like she didn’t already know . . . She said, “You know, I think Matthew intended that this story be seen in relation to the gospel from last week – ‘If your brother sins, go confront him.’” She’s probably right – even though I don’t like to admit it. We first learn unforgiveness in our families, and then we practice it in our lives, in the families we create, and even in the church. They call it the “Matthew 18 principle,” but it seems more to me like the prelude to a greater truth. Paul said it for us this morning in the passage Mary read for us a while ago – “But you, why do you judge your brother (or sister)? Or you again, why do you regard your brother (or sister) with contempt? For we shall all stand before the judgment seat of God.” And then a couple of verses later – “So then each one of us shall give account of himself to God.”
That’s the way Jesus ends up the parable. All the slaves standing around when the 1st slave metes out his revenge on the 2nd slave – they all run to the king and tell. Just like we do when we’re fed up with our brothers and sisters – we go to the king and tell on them. We know that the king will do the right thing – and he does – he has that worthless, bum of a slave beat within an inch of his life – Matthew says, “until he should repay all that was owed him.” And then Matthew adds, “So shall My heavenly Father also do to you, if each of you does not forgive his brother from your heart.”
Wow. Way harsh, Jesus. We don’t like this king very much anymore. Would God really revoke a pardon once He had given it? Would He . . .?
When I was planning the worship service this week, I opened up the computer program that accompanies our hymnal, and I did a word search on “forgiveness.” I got the dreaded response - “No records were found that match your criteria.” Spend a little while in our hymnal – or any hymnal for that matter. Not much there on forgiveness. We’re not very good at forgiveness. We get plenty of opportunity to practice, but we’re still not very good at it.
But we’re really good at unforgiveness. We take that which we learned so well – when we were younger – and we practice . . . practice – until we get it right.
Peter asked the wrong question. There was a better question.
“Should I ever judge my brother, my sister, my parent, my child, my spouse, my boss, my friend? Should I ever judge another?”
We could button up the sermon right here, and let us all leave – feeling a little cautious about how our God deals with us, and wondering, “Where was the gospel this morning?” But there is more to the story. There is gospel. There is good news.
Some of the good news we’ve already heard. God, in Christ, has already offered us forgiveness. Our God is not a God of unforgiveness – rather, our God is the God of forgiveness. It was our God who hung on that cross in the person of Jesus Christ, shamed by the world, abandoned by His Father, left to die a criminal’s death – who called out, “Father, forgive them.” I think He meant me and you when He said those words. We have good news this morning. Salvation and forgiveness are ours for the asking.
And there is more good news. We don’t have to live under the oppression of unforgiveness. We were taught as children that with unforgiveness came power. I have good news for us. Power through unforgiveness is an illusion and a lie. We may hold some kind of temporary power over another, but when we submit to unforgiveness, we are actually held captive by its power. We lose any power we hoped for, and we are captive to an illusion. We do not have to live our lives that way – we can live free from the shackles of unforgiveness – by letting go of that which binds us.
Now, that’s good news.
Richard W. Dunn, PhD.
Scripture references are either NASV, or my personal translation.
Matthew 18:21-35
Peter always asked the wrong question. It seems that we often do the same. “How often shall my brother sin against me and I forgive him?” Seven times?” Is that reasonable forbearance?
There were better questions to ask.
Perhaps it is in the providence of God that we encounter this question four years to the date after 9-11. We might ask some questions. Is there ever a sin so heinous – so terrible in ramification – that we are right to not forgive? Is there a statute of limitations on forgiveness? Is four years long enough? Is four years long enough to hang on to our unforgiveness, or does a crime of that magnitude require a lifetime of unforgiveness?
Or then again, perhaps it is in the providence of God that we encounter this question while we are in the middle of a war against terrorism. Does the fact that we are in the midst of a war require that I maintain a spirit of unforgiveness in my heart? Is it possible to seek retaliation, and at the same time to protect our great country – is it possible to do those things without harboring unforgiveness in our hearts?
And still again - perhaps it is in the providence of God that we encounter Peter’s question in the aftermath of a natural disaster that has produced immeasurable human suffering – not to mention the additional human suffering which is a result of the political maneuvering which has taken place - on an unprecedented scale. Undoubtedly, there is enough blame to go around several times – and land on any number of supposedly responsible people – everybody wants to blame someone. Everyone has an opinion on this one – I’m still waiting to encounter the first person who is unwilling to assess blame toward someone. And all of us are still waiting to encounter the first person who is willing to stick his or her hand in the air and say, “It’s my fault. Here – blame me!! Now, let’s go on.” So here might be the better question for us to be asking in the coming week – can I serve my fellow sisters and brothers and harbor unforgiveness in my heart toward the politicos who do not agree with my particular opinions?
There are even a few folks who want to blame God – perhaps for all of it. I was talking with a friend on Friday morning, and he said that to their credit, out of all the people who have been affected by this tragedy, he had yet to see one of them blame God. I’ve seen a few. Not those who were affected. And not many, mind you – but I’ve run across the occasional fundamentalist who says that “God was responsible as He meted out his wrath on that den of iniquity, New Orleans, which certainly was what they deserved.” There’s a side of me that wants to limit my exposure to that kind of thinking to dim-witted fundamentalists, but the truth of the matter is that there’s a part of every one of us that wants to blame God. That “blame game” goes back to Eden’s garden – where God confronts Adam about his sin and his nakedness, and Adam says, “Well, God – the woman You gave me . . .” Yeah, we all want to blame God.
It wasn’t a very good question. But Jesus gave Peter an answer anyway. 490. There - now you have it. 490. That’s all – You and I don’t have to forgive our brothers and sisters any more than 490 times. We can break that down a lot of different ways. Only once a day for just a little over a year. Yessiree, that’s the kind of answer I needed. No dragging this thing out. “Let’s clarify a little more, Jesus. Now, is that all of my brothers and sisters combined? I mean, when they’ve collectively sinned against me 490 times, can I stop forgiving? Or is that 490 for each brother and sister? Hmm – maybe I need to work up an accounting system. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do – I’ll open up a spreadsheet in Excel and start a page for each person. And I’ll list their sins. Jesus, is that for all of each person’s sins as a whole. You know, is Mike allowed only 490, and then I can stop forgiving him? Do I have to break it down by sin? Could it be that I have to forgive each person for each kind of sin 490 times? Wow, that’s gonna take a big spreadsheet. But at least I have a number.”
You know, we learn this unforgiveness in families. Peter asked how often he had to forgive his brother – kinda makes you wonder what old Andrew had done, doesn’t it? This is the same Andrew who had first introduced Peter to Jesus. Oh, well – even evangelist brothers can fall from grace. Besides, Andrew was the younger brother, and big brothers need to keep their position in the hierarchy!! Yeah, we first learn unforgiveness in the family. “Momma, Tony was sitting on my bed listening to my 8-track, and Rusty left his Hot Wheels in the floor and I stepped on one, and Tracy won’t stop singing that stupid Mister Rogers song – it isn’t such a beautiful day in my neighborhood!! Tell them to leave me alone!!!!!” Yeah, we learn unforgiveness in families. We learn to harbor grudges and resentment and bitterness in the bosom of those we first loved and competed with for love. It is in our families that we first learn that unforgiveness is power – and power is hard to come by in families.
Okay – say you aren’t the fundamentalist “bean counting” kind of Christian. Maybe there’s something else here – were not looking for a number, no matter how outrageous it is. Maybe we’re looking for a principle. Yeah, that’s it!! Here’s the axiom – “Unforgiveness is permitted where principle is involved.” If someone violates a principle for which I stand – social, Christian– unforgiveness is understood and even expected. Yeah, that’s it. “Why don’t you tell us a story to explain it, Jesus.”
“For this reason the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a certain king who wished to settle accounts with his slaves.” Isn’t it just like Jesus to give us a story about forgiveness by pointing out our unforgiveness? The king wanted to settle accounts. We don’t know why – we just know that he’s calling in the books. Everyone’s gonna get examined. After they’ve been at it a while, they drag in this loser of a slave who owes so much he’ll never be able to repay – not in his lifetime, anyway. We get the sense that maybe this isn’t the first time this king has run into this bum before. Maybe this was 491st time he’d been called on the carpet. Anyway, the king was tired of it all, and so he commands that this mooch and his wife and his kids and his dogs be sold on the open market – liquidated, like so much merchandise.
I’ve read this story a hundred times. Never did I feel anything but sympathy for the king. We understand his situation. He’s got king-stuff to be doing, this bum isn’t paying up, and it’s starting to cut into his schedule. I used to own a couple of rent houses here in town, and it really “got my goat” when my tenants wouldn’t pay their rent. This guy’s exactly the same, only a hundred-thousand-million times worse. So, I’ve always sympathized with this old king. I guess we all do.
What’s the slave to do? He goes to begging. I watched one of Tom Hanks’ latest movies a couple of weeks ago – “The Terminal”. I can actually recommend this one, although parents need to check it out first for language – it’s a cute movie with a really good “feel good” theme – Hanks’ character – a Russian - gets stuck in a New York airport on a snafu, and lives there for several months – really funny movie. At one point in the movie, another Russian is being detained for trying to import drugs for his ailing father, and Hanks is called in to translate. When the mean old airport “head honcho” finally pronounces his decision, this poor Russian drops to his knees and starts begging him. Hanks says, “He’s begging you.” As if everyone doesn’t already get that part. Well, our bum of a slave starts begging the king, and, well, he’s just so pitiful and sorry, that the king relents, waves a royal hand, and pardons the guy. Right there on the spot. I don’t know about you, but at this moment in the story, I really, really like this king. What a guy!! Benevolent, caring, gracious – just the kind of king we hope God will be when He calls in our debts.
So, the slave goes out, and just happens to run into a slave friend of his, and this slave owes him, oh, I don’t know – maybe $20. He doesn’t say a thing – he just starts choking this other slave and is yelling at him to pay up. And the 2nd slave does exactly what the 1st slave did – begs for his life – and the 1st slave, in a display of feckless power – has him thrown in jail.
Wow. Now, we’re really mad at this guy. Imagine the nerve. Imagine not forgiving someone else when we have been forgiven so much. We can’t believe it – what a . . .
“Wait a second, Jesus . . . You’re talking about us, aren’t you? We’re that first slave. You’ve caught us being so very human. You’ve caught us taking it out on each other when God has forgiven us so much more.
Monday I traveled to Granbury to stay at Mom’s, and then on Tuesday, Mom and Rusty and Tracy and I traveled to Waco to bury my sister-in-law Laura’s mom. Monday night, Tracy asked me what I was preaching this week, and I told her “the gospel.” Like she didn’t already know . . . She said, “You know, I think Matthew intended that this story be seen in relation to the gospel from last week – ‘If your brother sins, go confront him.’” She’s probably right – even though I don’t like to admit it. We first learn unforgiveness in our families, and then we practice it in our lives, in the families we create, and even in the church. They call it the “Matthew 18 principle,” but it seems more to me like the prelude to a greater truth. Paul said it for us this morning in the passage Mary read for us a while ago – “But you, why do you judge your brother (or sister)? Or you again, why do you regard your brother (or sister) with contempt? For we shall all stand before the judgment seat of God.” And then a couple of verses later – “So then each one of us shall give account of himself to God.”
That’s the way Jesus ends up the parable. All the slaves standing around when the 1st slave metes out his revenge on the 2nd slave – they all run to the king and tell. Just like we do when we’re fed up with our brothers and sisters – we go to the king and tell on them. We know that the king will do the right thing – and he does – he has that worthless, bum of a slave beat within an inch of his life – Matthew says, “until he should repay all that was owed him.” And then Matthew adds, “So shall My heavenly Father also do to you, if each of you does not forgive his brother from your heart.”
Wow. Way harsh, Jesus. We don’t like this king very much anymore. Would God really revoke a pardon once He had given it? Would He . . .?
When I was planning the worship service this week, I opened up the computer program that accompanies our hymnal, and I did a word search on “forgiveness.” I got the dreaded response - “No records were found that match your criteria.” Spend a little while in our hymnal – or any hymnal for that matter. Not much there on forgiveness. We’re not very good at forgiveness. We get plenty of opportunity to practice, but we’re still not very good at it.
But we’re really good at unforgiveness. We take that which we learned so well – when we were younger – and we practice . . . practice – until we get it right.
Peter asked the wrong question. There was a better question.
“Should I ever judge my brother, my sister, my parent, my child, my spouse, my boss, my friend? Should I ever judge another?”
We could button up the sermon right here, and let us all leave – feeling a little cautious about how our God deals with us, and wondering, “Where was the gospel this morning?” But there is more to the story. There is gospel. There is good news.
Some of the good news we’ve already heard. God, in Christ, has already offered us forgiveness. Our God is not a God of unforgiveness – rather, our God is the God of forgiveness. It was our God who hung on that cross in the person of Jesus Christ, shamed by the world, abandoned by His Father, left to die a criminal’s death – who called out, “Father, forgive them.” I think He meant me and you when He said those words. We have good news this morning. Salvation and forgiveness are ours for the asking.
And there is more good news. We don’t have to live under the oppression of unforgiveness. We were taught as children that with unforgiveness came power. I have good news for us. Power through unforgiveness is an illusion and a lie. We may hold some kind of temporary power over another, but when we submit to unforgiveness, we are actually held captive by its power. We lose any power we hoped for, and we are captive to an illusion. We do not have to live our lives that way – we can live free from the shackles of unforgiveness – by letting go of that which binds us.
Now, that’s good news.
Richard W. Dunn, PhD.
Scripture references are either NASV, or my personal translation.
posted by the sojourning pilgrim | 7:35 PM
2 Comments:
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