Matthew 18:21-35
September 17, 2017
First Presbyterian Church, Sterling IL
Christina Berry
Jesus has been trying to get it through the disciples’ heads: he is not going to be what they expect. This chapter begins with an argument between Jesus’ closest friends about who is more important. Jesus answers their question by placing a child among them and saying, “Be like this, like this child.” Then he warns them that anyone who misleads a child would be better off dead. THEN he tells them how to settle conflict in the community, a tidy three-step process that, if it is unsuccessful, ends in exiling the offender. But the very next line is Peter asking Jesus how often he should forgive. Jesus seems to be giving a straight answer first, but follows with a parable that is rich in hyperbole, in exaggeration, and in imagery. Let’s listen for God’s word to us in Matthew 18:21-35:
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?"
Jesus said to him, "Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times.
"For this reason the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his slaves. When he began the reckoning, one who owed him ten thousand talents was brought to him; 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. So the slave fell on his knees before him, saying, 'Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything.'
And out of pity for him, the lord of that slave released him and forgave him the debt. 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.' Then his fellow slave fell down and pleaded with him, 'Have patience with me, and I will pay you.' But he refused; then he went and threw him into prison until he would pay the debt. 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. Then his lord summoned him and said to him, 'You wicked slave! I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. Should you not have had mercy on your fellow slave, as I had mercy on you?'
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."
The word of the Lord.
Thanks be to God.
I have a little quiz for you.
Don’t worry, it isn’t hard.
It’s fill in the blank.
You’ll do fine.
You know the answers.
I’ll start a phrase, and you finish it.
Don’t say the answers out loud – just think them, or write them down..
Ready?
What goes around…..
You will reap….
Payback is …
Give him a taste of his…
Revenge is …
Last week when I started digging into the gospel text we just read, all those familiar sayings came to mind. Not because they are the point of the text – just the opposite. But you know that they express what most of us think and believe, at least sometimes, about this idea of forgiving and forgiving and forgiving, without end.
You will reap….
Payback is …
Give him a taste of his…
Revenge is …
Last week when I started digging into the gospel text we just read, all those familiar sayings came to mind. Not because they are the point of the text – just the opposite. But you know that they express what most of us think and believe, at least sometimes, about this idea of forgiving and forgiving and forgiving, without end.
You know, at some point, I just get done with all that forgiving. I’m like Peter – I want to know the equation on this, the mathematical end point, the number of times I absolutely HAVE TO forgive, which is actually the number at which I can say, “All right, enough. Not forgiving any more.
We. Are. Done.”
Most everybody reaches that point at some time, with someone. Most everybody can tell you a story about how they forgave, and forgave, and forgave, and finally they just couldn’t forgive any more, not one more thing. Some people might have stories of vengeance, how they themselves, or some circumstance, or natural consequence, gave an offender their just desserts, their comeuppance. We like those stories, mostly.
But this story that Jesus told is pretty disturbing.
In the first place, it is all so hugely exaggerated.
What king lends that kind of money to a servant? A loan shark king?
What servant is crazy enough to borrow that kind of money?
And then, if the king has loaned that outlandish sum to a servant who can’t pay it back in ten lifetimes, why even talk about getting paid back? It’s obvious to everyone that this servant can’t pay.
And what a jerk!
His debt forgiven, you’d think he’d forgive a measly few coins on an IOU. But no! He’s not letting one cent of that go. And then there are the weasly fellow servants, tattling to the king.
To top off this whole ridiculous parable, the king, who we are thinking all along is probably, you know, God, turns out to have a nasty and vindictive side – that last line is a shocker: “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."
Say what, Jesus? He said, “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."
Yep, that’s what I thought he said.
To put this in modern terms, Servant A maxes out his line of credit at King Bank. King Bank does not care about Servant A’s credit rating – let him get underwater, over-borrow, take on a mortgage he can’t afford. When he does get underwater, King Bank works out a payment plan to avoid foreclosure. Servant A walks out the door and runs into Servant B, who owes him 150 bucks.
“Gimme my money!” says Servant A.
“I don’t have it,” answers Servant B.
Servant A makes sure that Servant B gets thrown into debtors’ prison.
The mortgage officer at King Bank finds out, and calls the note on Servant A.
None of it makes any sense.
That’s why this can’t be taken as allegory – too simple! Too simple to say, “Well, the King is God, and Servant A is you, and Servant B is that jerk who hurt you….” It’s also too simple to say, “Well, just forgive and forget. Jesus wants you to reconcile with everyone, no matter how abusive or dangerous they might be.”
In some cases, if we offer mercy, we need to do it at a great distance.
In some cases, offering quick and personal mercy is downright dangerous.
I was at a meeting the other day talking about reconciliation. One person remembered hearing a holocaust survivor say, “I’m not reconciling with a Nazi. I’m not hugging someone who tried to kill me.” So those kind of simple interpretations don’t apply.
We can’t just go all church lady and say “Well, I just forgive you, come give me a hug.”
Nor can we set up that simplistic idea that the forgiving king is likely to turn on us. That makes God’s grace conditional, like God won’t forgive if you won’t, like God’s just hanging around waiting for us to slip up so all the punishment can be unleashed.
That’s not God.
That won’t work.
But Jesus wants Peter to know that being unforgiving has consequences for us. Not consequences from a King, or from a court system. But from the action itself.
If someone seeks forgiveness, asks for mercy, what do we do? Anyone who has held a grudge, sought revenge, withheld mercy, knows that it can be painful. Anne Lamott says that’s like drinking rat poison and hoping the rat will die. Likewise, anyone who seeks forgiveness and is met with revenge knows how painful that is. Either way, the lack of forgiveness is like torture. And who would know that better than Jesus?
While I was studying this text, I took a forgiveness quiz, to see how forgiving I am.
You’d think, you know, in my line of work, I’d ace that little quiz.
I scored about a sixty.
Mostly because I’m not vengeful.
So there’s that.
But I’d like to be more forgiving.
Shouldn’t I get partial credit for that?
You know, like WANTING to pay your mortgage gets you somewhere? Not.
But we all want to get extra credit for who we think we are, or would like to be, and extra mercy for what we actually do, or who we turn out to be. Someone said we overestimate the mercy we give others, and underestimate the mercy we receive from God.
Well then, this parable is just bad news, isn’t it?
If I’m your minister and I can only score a sixty on the forgiveness test, what’s that say about the average Christian? This story says we are sunk. No way can we forgive like we should. We are sunk.
What servant is crazy enough to borrow that kind of money?
And then, if the king has loaned that outlandish sum to a servant who can’t pay it back in ten lifetimes, why even talk about getting paid back? It’s obvious to everyone that this servant can’t pay.
And what a jerk!
His debt forgiven, you’d think he’d forgive a measly few coins on an IOU. But no! He’s not letting one cent of that go. And then there are the weasly fellow servants, tattling to the king.
To top off this whole ridiculous parable, the king, who we are thinking all along is probably, you know, God, turns out to have a nasty and vindictive side – that last line is a shocker: “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."
Say what, Jesus? He said, “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."
Yep, that’s what I thought he said.
To put this in modern terms, Servant A maxes out his line of credit at King Bank. King Bank does not care about Servant A’s credit rating – let him get underwater, over-borrow, take on a mortgage he can’t afford. When he does get underwater, King Bank works out a payment plan to avoid foreclosure. Servant A walks out the door and runs into Servant B, who owes him 150 bucks.
“Gimme my money!” says Servant A.
“I don’t have it,” answers Servant B.
Servant A makes sure that Servant B gets thrown into debtors’ prison.
The mortgage officer at King Bank finds out, and calls the note on Servant A.
None of it makes any sense.
That’s why this can’t be taken as allegory – too simple! Too simple to say, “Well, the King is God, and Servant A is you, and Servant B is that jerk who hurt you….” It’s also too simple to say, “Well, just forgive and forget. Jesus wants you to reconcile with everyone, no matter how abusive or dangerous they might be.”
In some cases, if we offer mercy, we need to do it at a great distance.
In some cases, offering quick and personal mercy is downright dangerous.
I was at a meeting the other day talking about reconciliation. One person remembered hearing a holocaust survivor say, “I’m not reconciling with a Nazi. I’m not hugging someone who tried to kill me.” So those kind of simple interpretations don’t apply.
We can’t just go all church lady and say “Well, I just forgive you, come give me a hug.”
Nor can we set up that simplistic idea that the forgiving king is likely to turn on us. That makes God’s grace conditional, like God won’t forgive if you won’t, like God’s just hanging around waiting for us to slip up so all the punishment can be unleashed.
That’s not God.
That won’t work.
But Jesus wants Peter to know that being unforgiving has consequences for us. Not consequences from a King, or from a court system. But from the action itself.
If someone seeks forgiveness, asks for mercy, what do we do? Anyone who has held a grudge, sought revenge, withheld mercy, knows that it can be painful. Anne Lamott says that’s like drinking rat poison and hoping the rat will die. Likewise, anyone who seeks forgiveness and is met with revenge knows how painful that is. Either way, the lack of forgiveness is like torture. And who would know that better than Jesus?
While I was studying this text, I took a forgiveness quiz, to see how forgiving I am.
You’d think, you know, in my line of work, I’d ace that little quiz.
I scored about a sixty.
Mostly because I’m not vengeful.
So there’s that.
But I’d like to be more forgiving.
Shouldn’t I get partial credit for that?
You know, like WANTING to pay your mortgage gets you somewhere? Not.
But we all want to get extra credit for who we think we are, or would like to be, and extra mercy for what we actually do, or who we turn out to be. Someone said we overestimate the mercy we give others, and underestimate the mercy we receive from God.
Well then, this parable is just bad news, isn’t it?
If I’m your minister and I can only score a sixty on the forgiveness test, what’s that say about the average Christian? This story says we are sunk. No way can we forgive like we should. We are sunk.
Except for who the storyteller is. See, Jesus knows better than anyone what it means to be merciful. Jesus knows what it means to be so radically loving that he would forgive even if the offender is not sorry, even if the debtor to whom he has given so much has no intention of repaying him.
Think about that.
You just took out an enormous mortgage. You’re in debt up to your ears. You paid nothing down, and you haven’t the slightest hope of making even one full payment. You call the loan officer and tell her this, and she says, “Oh, well, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Just keep the house.”
Think about that.
You just took out an enormous mortgage. You’re in debt up to your ears. You paid nothing down, and you haven’t the slightest hope of making even one full payment. You call the loan officer and tell her this, and she says, “Oh, well, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Just keep the house.”
……… Excuse me. What?
That’s the kind of mercy we are given by God in Christ. Jesus knows what it means to keep your arms open, ready to embrace anyone who comes, even if they are broken and mean and unforgiving and clingy and scared and petty.
Jesus knows that we who have received that welcoming embrace are changed by it, and maybe a little less mean, a little more forgiving, a little bit stronger and braver, a little more willing to reach out in love…
… and maybe that’s what saves us all.
Maybe those of us who have received mercy will be more likely to give it, and the mathematics of grace become mercy multiplied, not just counting up to the top limit of how many times I have to forgive.
The good news is that Jesus doesn’t do the math the way we do.
The good news is that Jesus even forgives our stubborn refusal to forgive others.
The good news is that even when we’ve squandered every last bit of our moral capital, and gone bankrupt on every promise to do better, and mortgaged away our kindness in trying to get ahead of the other guy, or spent our last pennies of energy trying to even the score with some horrid person, even then, Jesus stands there at the door, his arms open.
He asks for our ticket, our canceled mortgage, our personal forgiveness record,
our loan documents that are stamped, “PAID.” We don’t have that.
So we show him our terrible credit rating, our mangled ticket,
That’s the kind of mercy we are given by God in Christ. Jesus knows what it means to keep your arms open, ready to embrace anyone who comes, even if they are broken and mean and unforgiving and clingy and scared and petty.
Jesus knows that we who have received that welcoming embrace are changed by it, and maybe a little less mean, a little more forgiving, a little bit stronger and braver, a little more willing to reach out in love…
… and maybe that’s what saves us all.
Maybe those of us who have received mercy will be more likely to give it, and the mathematics of grace become mercy multiplied, not just counting up to the top limit of how many times I have to forgive.
The good news is that Jesus doesn’t do the math the way we do.
The good news is that Jesus even forgives our stubborn refusal to forgive others.
The good news is that even when we’ve squandered every last bit of our moral capital, and gone bankrupt on every promise to do better, and mortgaged away our kindness in trying to get ahead of the other guy, or spent our last pennies of energy trying to even the score with some horrid person, even then, Jesus stands there at the door, his arms open.
He asks for our ticket, our canceled mortgage, our personal forgiveness record,
our loan documents that are stamped, “PAID.” We don’t have that.
So we show him our terrible credit rating, our mangled ticket,
punched only eleven or twelve times of forgiveness out of seventy seven,
and he opens the gate and waves us through.
What can you possibly say about a God like that?
I’ll tell you what you say.
You say to your brother or sister, “I forgive you.”
You say, “I believe in the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.
You say, “Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us.”
You say, “Thank you. Thank you. I owe ya one, God.
I owe ya one life. My own.”
You answer that kind of grace with your life, and you live into the equation-
you live a life of mercy multiplied.
What can you possibly say about a God like that?
I’ll tell you what you say.
You say to your brother or sister, “I forgive you.”
You say, “I believe in the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.
You say, “Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us.”
You say, “Thank you. Thank you. I owe ya one, God.
I owe ya one life. My own.”
You answer that kind of grace with your life, and you live into the equation-
you live a life of mercy multiplied.
Amen.
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