September 11, 2005: Round Up Them Doagies
Matthew 18:21-35; Psalm 114

Eileen Parfrey, pastor
Springwater Presbyterian Church

Jesus has got to be kidding, right? He can't really be saying that God is like that king, torturing the forgiven but unforgiving slave until he pays up. That's just too scary for words. One of my lectionary buddies says the Reader's Digest condensed version of this parable is, "If you don't 'get it,' you can't get it." If you don't realize the immensity of the grace given you, you won't receive it. And you certainly can't offer it to others.

The parable is a weird answer to Peter's question, "How many times should I forgive?" Peter's could have mean a couple of things with that question. On the one hand, he might be asking, "Do I have to go on forgiving insults/hurts when a fellow Christian says 'sorry' or 'just kidding'?" Because there are limits to patience. On the other hand, Peter could be asking, "Is it in the best interest of a fellow believer to tolerate bad behavior, especially when repentance is superficial and he doesn't want to change?" They're both good questions, so Jesus answers with a parable.

His answer is about the kingdom of heaven, Mathew's shorthand for the "now/not yet" of God's ultimate plan for the culmination of creation, both the ordinary, here-and-now kingdom, and immortal kingdom. Jesus has just said forgiveness is the opposite of vengeance and that Christians must give up getting even. Why? Because unlimited forgiveness is in the nature of God. While most Bible stories about kings expect us to equate that character with God, we're going to have a hard time reconciling this grandly magnanimous king who forgives a incomprehensibly huge debt, with an arbitrary and capricious ruler who has someone tortured for being mean. And then believing this is what God is like. Just for today, I'd like to argue that Jesus poses that contradiction for the sake of making a point. Jesus ends his parable with that horrible statement about forgiving each other if we ourselves want to be forgiven, which brings my focus to the relationship between the two slaves.

I did a little math on their debts. A talent is 15 years worth of wages. Assuming a minimum wage of $7.50 an hour and full time work, the 10,000 talents the first slave owes comes to $23.4 million. The 100 denarii owed by the second slave is a little more than 3 months' wages, or $6,000. Ignoring the technicalities of how a slave could amass a debt that size, the first slave's promise to repay it is unreasonable. His response to the credible promise of the second slave to repay his debt is all the more outrageous by comparison. No wonder the other slaves are disturbed enough to squeal.

But look at how the first slave takes the news of his forgiveness! You don't remember? We hear nothing. No party, no gratitude, no joy-just a gap between the news of his forgiveness and running into the other slave. The very silence of the story regarding his response might tell us that this person has not "experienced" forgiveness. By offering to pay every nickel to the king, we understand that he's dealing with the king in terms of justice. The king deals with him in totally foreign terms-mercy. The slave doesn't get it. And because he doesn't get it, he can't give it to someone else. Forgiveness hasn't hit his gut. Because he's stuck on justice, the only conclusion he can make is that he somehow deserved what he got. Maybe he even believed the debt write-off was to his credit. "I really pulled one over on the king!" Indebtedness and forgiveness are a power game for him. There is no "gift" as far as he's concerned in the king's write-off. How could he "gift" others? His response to hurt or injury is so common. We perceive an injury or hurt, so we respond in anger or hurt pride-"I don't deserve this! I'm a nice person!" Our sense of entitlement is bruised-"Where's my share?" We get discouraged-"This is about what I'd expect." We become alienated from others-"They get it, but I don't."

Forgiveness is supposed to be at the heart of Christian community, the fellowship of the forgiven and the forgiving. Church is the place where we love folks where they're at-and we love them enough not to leave them there! I had a Sunday School teacher in Madison who made the outrageous claim that we need each other for forgiveness. Sometimes we haven't a clue as to our need to be forgiven until someone points it out. "We don't do that around here" accompanied by, "We'll still love you" is a powerful message, the incentive and hope for transformation.

But unlimited forgiveness-like God's forgiveness toward us-does not mean forgiving too much too quickly. There are things which are close to impossible for humans to forgive, even in community. Crashing airplanes into buildings on purpose. Bombing civilians. Priests abusing the vulnerable. Alcoholics hurting their family. Pushing drugs. Swindling a business partner. Rape, murder, burglary. Cheating on your spouse. Everyone carries hurts that would benefit from the perspective of loving and forgiving community. Changing the worship service time. Teens betraying parental trust. The classmate whose carelessness destroys your science project. The neighbor who mows your wildflowers. Forgiveness requires taking seriously both the violator and the violated, seeing the seriousness of the violation. To be forgiven is to be taken seriously.

Presbyterians have a reputation for forgiving too much too fast. Our grace toward each other is sometimes so cheap and so quick that we don't know how to hold each other accountable. But to claim one but not the other-to claim to be forgiven without also being forgiving-means an inability to live in and by God's forgiveness. Forgiveness is not slip-shod "anything goes" permissiveness, a lack of standards or indifference to wrong. Forgiveness is not possible unless there are standards and values, unless there is an acknowledgement that those values have been violated or persons and relationships hurt. A genuine-sounding apology will always have a credible indicator that the offending party knows how and who they have injured. It will convey some sense of remorse and an indication that they intend to try to change.

But sometimes the apology is either not forthcoming or doesn't seem genuine. The sullen "Sorry!" dragged out of the sister who slugged her brother for grabbing her pudding. The "Just kidding!" by the friend who says you look fat in those slacks. Even with the unrepentant, the role of the Christian community is to give up vindictiveness, to show we're ready to forgive. Without seeing that hope-the possibility of forgiveness-transformation is not possible. And transformation is the point of Christian community. The power of Christian community for exhibiting forgiveness is grounded in the humble knowledge that we are the recipients of God's forgiving love. Premature forgiveness-too quick, without recognition of the seriousness of the hurt that has been done-forgiving too quickly is an easy way out. It doesn't help the offender change, doesn't heal damaged relationships. But if humans are to receive grace, we also need to offer it to each other. We'll never "get it," we'll never understand the magnitude of grace we've been given, the power of forgiveness, unless we both offer it to and receive it from each other.