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St. Charles Episcopal Church - Saint Charles, IL
The Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost - Proper 19 RCL Year A
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Exodus 14:19-31 – Psalm 114 – Romans 14:1-12 – Matthew 18:21-35
Rev. William R. Nesbit, Jr.
In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen.
Today is the tenth anniversary of the September 11th attacks, and the words of Jesus from the Gospel of Matthew are difficult to hear.
“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.”
For the past month, with ever increasing fervor as the day approached, we have been reminded that today is a special day, a day different from any other. A day where we are told to remember. To remember the attack. To remember the loss. To remember the pain. To remember 9/11. As a shepherd of souls, and a follower of Jesus, I would remind you to remember something else as well. Remember to forgive.
Why is it so hard to hear this parable? There is no mystery about it, really. It doesn’t need to be explained. It’s intent is brutally obvious to everyone who hears it. But just in case you were napping I’d like to make a few things clear. First, lets look at the math. Nothing like a good old story problem to get us in the “back to school” swing of things.
A talent is a measure of weight. We’re not exactly sure how much a talent weighs because it did vary a bit, but our best guess is around seventy-five and a half pounds. When using a talent as a measure of money it is assumed to be a talent of silver. Seventy-five and a half pounds of silver. One talent of silver is more than a common laborer of the time could earn in fifteen years. 10,000 talents is 377 and a half tons of silver. At the current market price of silver ($41.62/oz.) That amounts to a shade under 503 million dollars. 10,000 talents is a debt that could never be repaid by normal means.
Compare this to a denarius. One denarius is the daily wage of a common laborer. Even an unskilled laborer could earn 100 denarii in about four months. To repay a debt of 100 denarii could take years, but it is do-able.
The difference between the two debts goes way beyond several orders of magnitude. 10,000 talents is a number beyond our ability to generally comprehend. 100 denarii is a very large number, yet still well within the realm of comprehension.
This relationship is also reflected in the numbers from the beginning of the Gospel, seven and seventy-seven. Seven is a good, handy, even magical number. It’s a number you could keep in your pocket, or in a corner of your mind. One could conceive, though it would still be difficult, of keeping track of seven instances of forgiveness.
“Let’s see I’ve forgiven Johnny 4 times and Anthony 5 times and Jeanne 6 times (she’s getting close) and... “
But seventy-seven times would involve way too much bookkeeping. If you have to go all the way up to seventy-seven, it’s best to just leave the paperwork out of it. It’s easier to just forgive ‘em everytime, then you don’t have to worry about all the paperwork.
In Greek, Pößçìé [aphiémi] (translated as the verb to forgive), literally means “to release from one’s grasp, or send forth.” In other words, “forgiveness” is like letting a small bird escape from your cupped hands—only it isn’t a bird, but the one who offended you. It’s a lot easier to let a bird go than it is to forgive someone who has really done you wrong. To forgive is a lot easier to say than to do. Real forgiveness is something far easier to conceive than it is to actually put into actual practice.
For example, how are the families of those killed at the World Trade Center to “release” Osama Bin Laden and the 9/11 hijackers from their grasp? How are they to “let go” of the pain of seeing the empty chair at the dinner table night after night? How can they simply “turn loose” the anguish of seeing a vacant place at a child’s recital, or at the Little League game? How are we, who watched their pain replayed again and again this past week in the ramp up to this the tenth anniversary, to “let go” of these heinous attackers and the countless ways their actions have impacted our lives? How is one to release that kind of “debt”?
The war in Iraq is finally winding down, though in Afghanistan it still lingers and bubbles. In this past decade American soldiers have found themselves caught in the midst of a complex mix of Shi’a and Sunni Muslim, as well as Afghani tribesmen and ethnic Kurds. In that time, death has been meted out with ruthless efficiency, numbering in the hundreds of thousands across national, ethnic, religious, and tribal lines. How can forgiveness make a dent in that quagmire of hate and vengeance.
Forgiveness is so much more approachable—and palatable—as a philosophical concept, as opposed to something we do. Something we must do. Something, indeed, our Lord demands of us. How can we forgive? Wherever can we find the strength to forgive once, let alone seventy times seven. And how do we forgive those things that seem so utterly unforgivable?
The answer doesn’t lie in ignoring the reality of the offence. Forgiveness is not self-imposed amnesia. It is not pretending that nothing really horrid occurred, or thinking we can erase a significant portion of it’s psychic imprint. And forgiveness doesn’t let anybody get away with anything. Forgiveness is about the return of right relationship.
Remember that the Risen Lord who returned to that upper room, still had his scars. The evidence of the grievous human brutality inflicted on him while he was on the cross had not disappeared. And each of those wounds convicted the disciples of their abandonment of their Lord. The scarred hands and feet, however, were no longer bleeding and open wounds. The wounds remained, but they were healed.
How can we forgive? The answer is we can’t...alone. The power to truly forgive comes to us from above and only from above. To be able to forgive we first need to know that we have been forgiven, to know it in our guts, and feel it in our hearts. Out of that deep awareness of God’s never-failing love for us, and the reality of all that has been forgiven us, we remember truthfully all the pain that our oppressor has caused us, and leave ourselves open to the possibility that God can lift that pain from us and give us the strength to even consider forgiving.
It may start out something like, “God, I can’t forgive him for what he has done to me, so you’ll have to take this one.” You may have to pray out your anger first but that’s ok. Keep praying, keep asking for the strength, the help you need. As you pray you will become more and more aware of all that you have been forgiven. One day you will realize that you finally have let it go.
In spite of what you see after the general confession that we say each week, rarely is there a moment where forgiveness is specifically granted. More often it is recognized only in hindsight. You suddenly become aware that you have forgiven your oppressor, that they are no longer your concern. For us, perhaps only 10 years after 9/11 is too soon to forgive, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be working and praying toward forgiveness. It’s never too soon for that.
Make no mistake about it, forgiveness is not easy for us, it isn’t meant to be, but it is possible. It takes time and prayer. We must face our legitimate and righteous anger as well as our own sin and broken-ness. In the midst of that place of holy awareness, we must then open ourselves to the healing power of God the Father’s loving-kindness; open ourselves to the redeeming power of God the Son’s sacrificial love; open ourselves to the sanctifying power of the grace and forgiveness of the Holy Spirit.
By remembering that it is God who working through us gives us the power to forgive, we can face the evil of this world, the hate, the fear, the pain, and the guilt, and drive it out in the only way it truly can be; by turning it over to God, and letting it go.
Amen.