Sunday, September 17th: "The Great Work of Love"

Watch the sermon here

First United Presbyterian Church

“The Great Work of Love”

Rev. Amy Morgan

September 17, 2023

Matthew 18:21-35

21 Then Peter came and said to him, "Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?"

 22 Jesus said to him, "Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times. 

23 "For this reason the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his slaves. 24 When he began the reckoning, one who owed him ten thousand talents was brought to him; 25 and, as he could not pay, his lord ordered him to be sold, together with his wife and children and all his possessions, and payment to be made. 26 So the slave fell on his knees before him, saying, 'Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything.' 27 And out of pity for him, the lord of that slave released him and forgave him the debt.

 28 But that same slave, as he went out, came upon one of his fellow slaves who owed him a hundred denarii; and seizing him by the throat, he said, 'Pay what you owe.' 29 Then his fellow slave fell down and pleaded with him, 'Have patience with me, and I will pay you.' 30 But he refused; then he went and threw him into prison until he would pay the debt.

 31 When his fellow slaves saw what had happened, they were greatly distressed, and they went and reported to their lord all that had taken place. 32 Then his lord summoned him and said to him, 'You wicked slave! I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. 33 Should you not have had mercy on your fellow slave, as I had mercy on you?' 34 And in anger his lord handed him over to be tortured until he would pay his entire debt.

 35 So my heavenly Father will also do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart."

“Forgiveness is the name of love practiced among people who love poorly.” These are the words of the Dutch theologian Henri Nouwen, who elaborated on this statement, saying, “The hard truth is that all people love poorly, and so we need to forgive and be forgiven every day, every hour increasingly. Forgiveness is the great work of love among the fellowship of the weak that is the human family.”

I wrestled a lot this week with how to preach on forgiveness, mainly because of the enormity and depth of this topic. Jesus’s teaching and parable about forgiveness are both hyperbolic, emphasizing just how BIG forgiveness is. I struggled all week with how to say just one thing, reduce forgiveness to a story, an application, a sermon that wouldn’t exceed 20 minutes. 

But after going down all the rabbit holes of doctrine and history, word study and scholarly commentary, stories of forgiveness and news articles, psychological studies on the health effects of holding resentments, and so much more, Nouwen’s quote finally convinced me that a sermon on forgiveness is not what is needed. We can read about forgiveness, be inspired by stories of forgiveness, understand the benefits of forgiveness. But we are people who love poorly, and so forgiveness is something we must practice. It is a spiritual muscle we must actively exercise, every day, every hour, according to Nouwen. And so it seemed remiss to just talk about forgiveness today. We must practice it, together, as a community. 

So I’m going to spend a few minutes this morning exploring some of the important points of what Jesus says and the parable he tells about forgiveness. But I’m going to invite us at the end to experience a sort of guided meditation that will allow us to experience, practice, and do the “great work of love” that is forgiveness. 

So the first thing I want to lift up from our scripture reading this morning is that poor Peter thinks he’s got it right. His question to Jesus is largely rhetorical, because he thinks he already knows the answer. And not because forgiving someone a whole seven times seems generous. Generosity has nothing to do with it. In Judaism, seven is the number of perfection. So Peter is essentially saying he knows how to practice forgiveness perfectly. 

But Jesus adds more sevens to the equation of forgiveness, although the Greek makes it hard to tell if his number is 77 or 70 times 7. Either way, it’s a hyperbolic amount. Jesus is not calculating the exact figure of forgiveness. He’s saying that forgiveness is beyond perfection, it’s beyond our ability to measure, it is something that precisely does not keep an accounting. 

And then he tells this parable that illustrates just such extravagant forgiveness in practice. 

Ten thousand talents was an impossible amount of money, the equivalent of maybe ten million dollars today. It was more than this servant ever would have come close to making in his lifetime, much more than all his possessions, his family, and his person would have sold for, and certainly much more than he could ever hope to pay back if he lived and worked a thousand years. The point is that this debt was not one he could ever pay back. 

Matthew tells us that it was pity, or, as this word is more often translated, compassion, that compels the king to forgive this immense debt. This word comes up in the gospel numerous times, usually in reference to Jesus’s compassion that leads to healing and restoration. It literally refers to the yearning of the bowels, which was thought to be where love was centered in the body. 

Matthew wants to make the point that the king’s forgiveness was not an act of generosity, grandiosity, or some kind of power play. He isn’t giving the servant what he deserves, because he’s really such a good guy most of the time. He isn’t pretending the debt is no big deal or didn’t really hurt him. No, what the king does is a great work of love. 

But the servant, as we come to find out, does not follow suit. Instead, he violently tries to extract the payment of a relatively small debt, maybe a few hundred dollars in today’s currency, out of his fellow-servant, and sends him to prison until he can pay it. 

And, if that isn’t disturbing enough, when the other servants share this grievous act with the king, the judgement is swift and harsh, basically eternal torture. Again, remember that this is a hyperbolic parable, not a promise of eternal torture for the hard-hearted. 

But, like all parables, there is truth in it. The word forgiveness in Greek literally means to let go, release, leave behind. The servant is released from a terrible bind, one he could never hope to get himself out of. And instead of dropping that rope and going on to live a life of joy and freedom, he carries that rope along with him and uses it to bind up another member of his community. When we think about forgiveness as this activity of binding and releasing, Jesus’s words that we read last week, just a few verses before Peter’s question, take on new meaning: “whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.” Forgiveness is so big, it has eternal consequences. 

And so when the king in the story hands the unforgiving servant over to the torturer, for as long as it takes for his impossibly large debt to be paid, there is some truth in that. Holding on to the ropes that have bound us and using them to bind up those in our community leads to a kind of torture, at the very least the torture of the soul. If we cannot live in gratitude, joy, and freedom for the forgiveness we have received, for the love we cannot earn, for the grace that is ours without measure, for the absolute extravagance of God’s compassion, then we are prone to continue to be “people who love poorly.” 

Now, one last note before we move into our practice of forgiveness. The church has abused this teaching from Jesus over the centuries, requiring women to forgive and return to abusive marriages, encouraging forgiveness where justice is forestalled, and mandating forgiveness as a means for oppression to reign. I want to emphasize that forgiveness does not diminish the hurt or wrong, but just the opposite. It lets go of resentment and releases the wrongdoer from the punishment that may be very well justified. It recognizes and names the hurt and the injustice but lets go of the need for retribution. It is extravagant, hard, and something that requires practice. It is also something that is done in the context of community. Remember that Peter is talking here about the community of those following Jesus. Its goal is the restoration of relationship, not the continuation of injustice and abuse. The king in Jesus’s story releases the servant from his debt, but he likely doesn’t plan on giving him any more money in the future. So keep that in mind as we go through this practice. 

Now, I invite you to get comfortable where you’re sitting for a few moments, close your eyes, and just bring your attention to your breathing. And I invite you to picture that rope, the rope that binds you. Are there things you have done that you recognize have hurt others, damaged your relationship with God, or wounded the creation? Don’t try to come up with the whole laundry list. Just choose one thing that is weighing on you, that is binding up your life and keeping you from joy and freedom. Maybe a word comes to mind, or a relationship, or an encounter. Try to focus on just that one thing, allowing yourself to feel the discomfort of this bind that you have created. 

Now, I invite you to imagine that this rope that binds you is slowly loosened, and you are released. Take a big, deep breath. There’s no explanation, nothing that you did to fix something. You are just released; you are no longer bound to your guilt or shame. It is lying in a heap on the floor at your feet, and you can just step over it and walk away. 

And as you walk away, I invite you to imagine that you encounter someone who has hurt you in some way, a person who you have not been able to forgive or wanted to forgive. Maybe it is something you’ve tried to pretend didn’t hurt that much, or maybe it’s something you’ve hoped you’d gotten over but really haven’t fully let go of yet. 

I want you to imagine that person is bound by a rope just like the one you just escaped. It’s wrapped around their whole body, from their chest to their ankles. They can move, they are totally trapped by what they have done to you. You watch them strain against the rope, try to wriggle their way out of it, but they can’t. They are exhausted. And you notice that the end of that rope is in your hand. 

Now, it is time for you to decide what to do. You can leave them in that bind, telling yourself it’s what they deserve. You can give them a piece of your mind, shaming them for how much they’ve hurt you. You can pull the rope tighter, hoping they will feel the pain they have inflicted. That’s an option you might imagine. 

Or, you can remember what it felt like to be bound up like that, being squeezed by guilt and shame. You feel in your gut a longing for release. You remember the love that freed you, and you want to feed that love. And so, maybe, you find the knot on their back, and untie it, and unwind the rope, dropping it at their feet. Maybe, you can let go of the rope and walk away from bitterness and resentment. 

If this is not something you can do right now, that’s okay. This takes practice. Today, perhaps it’s all you can do to be in the presence of this person who hurt you and watch them writhe. But tomorrow, or next week, perhaps you can try this practice again. And again, and again. And with enough practice, perhaps you can let go of the rope, freeing not just the one who caused you pain, but ultimately freeing yourself as well. 

Amen.