When my lectionary discussion group studied this passage ten days ago, the exegete ended his paper by asking for a show of hands.  “How many of you have been in a congregation where this practice was used?” (the one about going one-on-one, then by pairs, then to the whole church).  Every single hand.  When he asked, “How did it go?” the looks on our faces were enough—horror, pain, anger.  One told of being in a cold, unwelcoming congregation as a young man.  When he went to seminary in his middle years, he learned the story behind the lack of friendliness from his professor, who had served that same congregation years earlier.  There had been sexual misconduct between a couple of members.  The whole congregation knew about it, so the pastor made the one-on-one visit to the offending party prescribed by Jesus.  Receiving no acknowledgment of wrong-doing, at the next communion service the pastor withheld the sacrament from the offender, in the spirit of treating him like a Gentile and tax collector.  The congregation saw what transpired at the altar rail and took sides over withholding the means of grace—for years.  We’ve all heard or experienced similar horror stories of church discipline.  Was Jesus nuts, that he would give the church this kind of disciplinary and dispute resolution procedure, one which inevitably seems to cause deeper hurt?  Gen-Xers and Millenials (not to mention much of the culture at large) dismiss church people as intolerant and judgmental.  Was Jesus wrong, or do we not implement his instructions correctly?

       I was given an article from the Episcopal diocesan paper about congregational communication.  The article said to avoid three communication errors:  triangulation, pass-through communication, and anonymous feedback.  If someone hurts you and you call someone else to complain, that’s triangulation.  Having someone else deliver a message or ask a favor on your behalf is pass-through communication.  When you hear, “I’m not the one with the problem; others are saying it,” that’s anonymous feedback.  None of these things are part of Jesus’ disputes resolution protocol.  When Jesus says to go one-on-one with your complaint, he means, if you have a problem with someone, tell that person, don’t complain to someone else, and when someone complains to you about another person, don’t listen.  When Jesus says, take another person with you to talk with whoever hurt you, he means, there is probably something you don’t understand.  Another person can help you listen and learn your own error.  When Jesus says to get the church involved, he does not mean pass-through communication or anonymous feedback.  He means secrets and conspiracies will undermine community.  When Jesus says to treat offenders as Gentiles and tax collectors, he reminds us of those who were particular objects of his compassion.  “Gentiles and tax collectors” is Biblish for how offensive God’s grace can be.  The logical consequence of sin is death, its ill-logical consequence, in God’s offensive economy, is forgiveness.  Thank God we do not get what we deserve.
 
        Jesus’ parable, exactly.  The point of his parable is not “You can do anything you want, as long as you apologize.”  That’s a recent practice, the standard public apology that goes, “If I have done anything to harm anyone, I’m sorry.”  That non-apology means, “I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong, but if you think so, then I’m sorry—for you.”  This kind of apology cheapens forgiveness, makes it something for which no wrong-doing need be admitted, no behavior changed.  The logical consequence of that kind of apology is what happened to the first slave in the parable.  The first slave owed the king the inconceivable sum of more than six lifetimes of wages, which meant the king was entitled to all of the six lifetimes at the slave’s disposal—his own, his wife’s and his kids’.  The sentence he gets is the sentence he deserves.  But through some fluke of mercy, the king forgives the debt so the slave doesn’t get what he deserves.  The first slave then has the opportunity to pass it on, this great gift of forgiveness.  Instead, he gives the second slave what he deserves.  For a debt of three months of day wages the sentence is imprisonment.  When the other slaves object, the king reverts the first slave back to what he deserves.
   
        To offer forgiveness is not to say that nothing happened.  Forgiveness is about restoration of relationship.  The thing happened, but I’ll love you anyhow.  Sometimes we accept an apology with the words, “It never happened,” but that isn’t what we mean.  Without acknowledging the hurt—both by the one inflicting the hurt and the one experiencing it—when we pretend bad things and hurts never happened, the pain continues.  We might call it something else, but it will show up somewhere.  When the first slave refuses to pass on the forgiveness he has received, his actions say he thinks he earned his mercy, that forgiveness is about deserving.  If he deserved mercy, he doesn’t need forgiveness.  What the king gives him is undeserved, and he misses the point.  By the time the second slave gets to him, the first slave is in no position to pass on what he has not received.  Having rejected reconciliation with the king, he rejects reconciliation with his fellow slaves, and that’s why Jesus says he’s in hell—relationships are not restored.

         These are dangerous texts.  The church has used them as weapons as well as excuses, against each other and the means of avoiding responsibility for ourselves.  They are in scripture for a reason, but unless we read them in the context of scripture as a whole, we are in danger of slipping into weapons and excuses.  I’m reminded of something the apostle Paul says about debt in Romans 13:8-10:  “Owe no one anything, except to love one another; for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law.  The commandments, ‘You shall not commit adultery; You shall not murder; You shall not steal; You shall not covet;’ and any other commandment, are summed up in this word, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’  Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore, love is the fulfilling of the law.”

         Love does no wrong.  That’s not the same as “love never hurts.”  Reading the gospel today, we might understand that we pass on to others the forgiveness we receive.  Without forgiveness, behavior cannot change.  Perhaps you haven’t experienced forgiveness.  Maybe you haven’t needed it.  If that’s the case, you might not have any to pass on to others.  For the rest of us, maybe we’ve received so much that, like Jesus, we’re willing to go out of our way to extend forgiveness, to restore relationships.
 
        Easier said than done, of course.  I mean, how many churches run aSchool of Forgiveness?  We’re so bad it.  Either we’re following the cultural example of “If I have done anything wrong . . .” or we think that forgiveness is being a doormat.  I’m going to ask the ushers to distribute these papers—a copy of the forgiveness page from the NRSV concordance.  Each line represents a scripture passage.  Here’s my suggestion:  take these home, read one or two or three or twelve passages each day, and keep a paper and pencil handy so you can jot down your thoughts as you read—questions, names of people you need to talk to, hurts you’ve experienced or given.  God only knows what will come of it.  God only knows.  But God intends reconciliation.  God intends that we live as forgiven people, aware of our own great debt.  Pass it on.