Monthly Archives: September 2026

Homily: Forgiveness

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Go to readings for 24th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year A).

In October 2006, Charles Roberts entered a one-room Amish school in Nickel Mines, Lancaster County with a rifle. Roberts was a milk tank truck driver and served several farms in the Amish community. He ordered the boys and the teacher to leave, then bound the ten remaining girls, and shot all of them, killing five and leaving the others critically wounded. He then shot himself. His motivation? “I’m angry at God for taking my little daughter,” he told the children. Nine years earlier his newborn daughter died 20 minutes after her birth. The blood was barely dry on the school room floor when Amish parents were bringing words of forgiveness to the family of the man who had slain their children.

Click here for an article on the 10th anniversary of the tragic event.

The outside world was incredulous that such forgiveness could be offered so quickly for such a heinous crime. Forgiveness, in fact, eclipsed the tragic story, trumping the violence and arresting the world’s attention. Fresh from the funerals where they had buried their own children, grieving Amish families accounted for half of the people who attended Roberts’ funeral. Roberts’ widow was deeply moved as Amish families greeted her and her three children. The Amish also supported a fund for the shooter’s family.

As the news outlets covered the story, they were astounded by the Amish quickness to forgive. The Amish were surprised that everyone else was surprised. In their view, forgiveness was at the heart of Christianity, so why would it be so surprising? But that doesn’t mean it was easy. The Amish are people, and people have emotions, sins, and struggles. A father of one of the Amish girls who was not killed, but remained unresponsive in a coma, expressed a difficulty very connected to our readings. He said that the choice he made was to forgive. But he struggled with his anger and his choice to forgive. And so, he reminded himself everyday to recommit himself to forgiveness, to make the choice again and again, because forgiveness is the heart of our Christian faith.

The theme of the Amish forgiveness surrounding the West Nickel Mine School tragedy is beautifully written about in a book, “Amish Grace,” reflecting on the event, and also a movie (which I haven’t seen) inspired by the book.

Our gospel reading opens with Peter asking Jesus, “Lord, if my brother sins against me, how often must I forgive? As many as seven times?”  We have the motto today of “fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me.” Or the more common, “three strikes and you’re out.” In the ancient Jewish tradition of the rabbis, if you were repentant and asked someone you had offended three times for forgiveness, and the other person still withheld forgiveness, you had fulfilled your obligation, and it became the other person’s sin of unforgiveness.

So, for Peter to suggest as many as seven times was Peter starting off with an already overly generous gesture of forgiveness. And yet Jesus raises the stakes even higher. “I say to you, not seven times but seventy-seven times.” Some translations will say seven times seven, or seventy-seven, the point is that it is seven upon seven. As Dr. Scott Hahn points out, the Hebrew word “shevah” meant both seven and covenant; there’s a theme of fullness, completion, perfection. The seventh day was the day of the covenant. And so to call upon us to forgive, whether it’s seventy-seven or seven times seven, it’s to bring to mind the covenant of God’s mercy, the covenant by which, in love, we belong to God and to each other as the family of God, and what that entails. It entails fullness, completion, perfection of forgiveness. Then Jesus illustrates his teaching with a parable.

When Jesus says that the debtor to the king owed “a huge amount,” the Greek uses the largest single word for a quantity, and the word for the largest denomination of currency: a murion (ten-thousand) talents. A talent is 6,000 denarii. A denarius is a daily wage. If someone makes a modest $15 an hour, a denarius might be worth $120 for a full day. A talent, 6,000 days’ wages, about 20 years, would be worth $720,000. This man owed a debt of ten thousand talents, sixty million days, (200k years) wages: $7.2 billion. And he tells the king, “Be patient with me, and I will pay you back in full.” Yeah, ok. But in compassion, the king forgives the debt. The king mercifully puts this man’s life of dignity and freedom above the justice of a $7.2 billion debt.

How does this man respond to this incredible gift of mercy and forgiveness? “He found one of his fellow servants who owed him a much smaller amount.” Again, the Greek, and some translations, say specifically, “a hundred denarii.” A hundred days’ wages, times $120/day, is a $12,000 debt. This second debtor begs for mercy with the same words: “Falling to his knees, his fellow servant begged him, ‘Be patient with me, and I will pay you back.’ But he refused. Instead, he had the fellow servant put in prison until he paid back the debt.” A debtors’ prison was where you were jailed until someone else redeemed you by presenting the funds to repay the debt.

I think what Jesus says next is extremely important: “His master summoned him and said to him, ‘You wicked servant! I forgave you your entire debt because you begged me to. Should you not have had pity on your fellow servant, as I had pity on you?’ Then in anger his master handed him over to the torturers until he should pay back the whole debt.” Because the debtor, the servant, was not converted by gratitude and the example of the master and did not acquire for himself a heart of mercy and forgiveness, the master revoked the generosity he had shown. The king punishes the servant for both the unrepayable debt he owed, and because of his hypocrisy to be forgiven so much and yet refuse to have forgiveness toward others. Torture does not repay the debt, and no end to the torture is possible under these conditions.

Jesus then warns his disciples, “So will my heavenly Father do to you, unless each of you forgives his brother from his heart.” That’s unsettling. But then, also, Jesus taught us to pray, “forgive us our debts, or trespasses, as we forgive our debtors, or those who trespass against us.” That’s a profound prayer Jesus gives us to make. We are saying, “Father, I want you to forgive me the way that I forgive others.” Jesus then follows the Lord’s prayer with the admonition: “If you forgive others their transgressions, your heavenly Father will forgive you. But if you do not forgive others, neither will your Father forgive your transgressions.”

If we want to experience God’s mercy, we need to attune our heart to mercy. We have to find the frequency that God is broadcasting on, to hear him. And the way we adjust the dial on our heart is to follow his example. We know of the incredible mercy of the cross, and that God has already forgiven us an unpayable debt, infinitely more than even a $7.2 billion debt. It is our obligation then to show that ridiculous kind of mercy toward others. And that helps us to be attuned, and more receptive and appreciative and grateful, to God’s continuous communication to us of his truth, mercy, love, and grace.

Our first reading from the Book of Sirach matches up well with our gospel. “Could anyone nourish anger against another and expect healing from the LORD? Could anyone refuse mercy to another like himself, can he seek pardon for his own sins? If one who is but flesh cherishes wrath, who will forgive his sins?” Even in the Old Testament, those who sought wisdom and holiness understood that grudges, resentment, wrath, and unforgiveness are destructive both to the mental, emotional, and spiritual health of the human person, and to a healthy community.

But what about big things? What about a man who hurts your daughter? What about a spouse who commits adultery? What if it’s assault? We can struggle with a lot of unforgiveness in a lot of areas to a lot of different degrees. How do we forgive?

As we saw, sometimes it has to be a repetitive act of the will to forgive. Our anger, wrath, can flare up when we think about it, our feelings of resentment and betrayal and the unfairness of it, maybe even vengeance. We are still called to forgive. To write off the debt, as our Lord has written off our much, much greater debt. And we must recommit our will to our decision to forgive. We must allow our debtor out of the confines of the debtor’s prison. Christian writer Corrie Ten Boom says, “To forgive is to set the prisoner free, and realize that you were the prisoner.” You were the one confined by the prison of your unforgiveness.

It’s not easy. Sometimes it’s one of the hardest things we can imagine. C. S. Lewis said, “Everyone thinks forgiveness is a lovely idea until he has something to forgive.”

But here’s a few important caveats that might help. First, forgiveness is not approval. Choosing to forgive is not to say that you’ve changed your mind and you’re ok with what the other person did. It’s to release yourself from the energy being spent on holding the prison door shut. It can also be about not locking that person into that one choice that they made that hurt you. That’s also setting the prisoner free.

Second, Fr. Mike Schmitz gives the example: “Someone might borrow your car and they get in a wreck and the damage is worth fifteen hundred dollars. That’s a lot of money. And they might say they can’t pay it, so you say okay, I’m gonna pay it for you, and don’t worry about paying me back. That’s forgiveness. Forgiveness is you owe me this; I am not going to make you pay me back; you’re released from your debt. Now that doesn’t mean I’m gonna lend you my car next weekend. That would be reconciliation.” I bring you into my trust once again. But sometimes if someone has wounded that trust it would be foolish to bring them into your trust again if they’ve demonstrated they haven’t changed. Forgiveness is not the same as reconciliation. Forgiveness is not necessarily full restoration and full access. But you may have to set a boundary with someone after an offense. Maybe it’s someone who’s dangerous, toxic, abusive. I forgive you, I pray for you, but I cannot put myself in that situation again. Or maybe it’s not abuse, maybe it’s adultery, which still terrible. But I’ve seen marriages survive, and somehow through forgiveness, grace, and humility, become stronger. 

Since I had to listen to this in my head the whole time I was writing this, you can, too. Near the end of the musical, "Hamilton," Alexander has brought public and political shame to his name and his family through public confession of an affair. Shortly after, their son Phillip is killed in a duel defending his honor, and his wife Eliza (who, with the rest of the family, has played second to Alexander's poltical ambitions their whole marriage) holds Alexander responsible for his death. However, they find that their wounded love, matured and intensified by their grief, has the power to lead them through a reconciliation, due largerly to Eliza's grace and forgiveness.

Again, forgiveness doesn’t mean approval. It doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt, it wasn’t bad. And there has to be the patience to slowly and consistently earn lost trust, and the mercy to be open to that reconciliation. And also, again, forgiveness can involve that repeated commitment to the decision to forgive. Sometimes forgiving seventy seven times doesn’t mean you forgive seventy-seven different sins, offenses, against you; it might also mean you recommitting seventy-seven times to forgive the same big sin or offense against you whenever you feel angry, wrathful, and want to see the other person suffer for the suffering they caused you.

I know that this Friday we just observed the 25th anniversary of the September 11th attacks and I didn’t want to let that go unmentioned. I’ll have to leave it to you to contemplate how that might connect with the theme of our readings today. And of course this weekend we celebrate our parish’s 250th anniversary, that we’ll have the anniversary Mass with the Bishop on Sunday at 2pm. And of course we also had the ordination Mass at the cathedral for 14 new permanent deacons in the diocese, including our own Dr. Stephen Dietrich, whose assignment was announced by the bishop as being shared between Saint Patrick and Sacred Heart, Spring Grove.

But I really wanted to focus on our readings and this theme of forgiveness, of mercy. Because unforgiveness and wrath, as our readings say, is not just about not having our own sins forgiven, which would be eternally tragic. But it’s unhealthy in our own selves, it’s unhealthy in our relationships, it’s unhealthy in the Christian community, it’s unhealthy in a family and a marriage, and Jesus is trying to save us from all that suffering by stressing the incredible importance of forgiveness, that we would have joy and peace and love in our souls, in our communities, in our marriages and families, in our example toward others. Forgiveness is the heart of our Christian faith.

Homily: Admonish the Sinner

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Go to the Mass Readings for the 23rd Sunday of Ordinary Time (year A)

Saint Maria Goretti was born in 1890 in Italy. Her family lived in poverty. After her father died of malaria, Maria’s mother was left to care for her children alone. While her mother and older siblings worked in the fields, Maria cooked, sewed, kept the house, and lovingly cared for her youngest sister, Teresa. Despite their poverty, the Goretti family was united by strong faith.

In 1902, twelve-year-old Maria was seated on the steps of her home, quietly sewing, when Alessandro Serenelli, an 18-year-old neighbor, attempted to sexual assault her. Maria resisted with all her strength, crying out that what he was doing was a mortal sin, warning him that it would endanger his soul. “No! It is a sin! God does not want it!” she exclaimed. Enraged by her resistance, Alessandro stabbed her fourteen times before fleeing.

Alerted by the younger sister’s cries, the family rushed home and found Maria gravely wounded. She was taken to the hospital where surgeons operated without anesthesia. Before dying, Maria forgave her attacker, saying she wished to see him with her in Heaven. Alessandro Serenelli was soon captured and sentenced to 30 years in prison. For many years he remained hardened and unrepentant. Eventually, he experienced a profound conversion after a dream in which Maria appeared to him in a garden, offering him lilies that burned away as he held them. From that moment, his life changed.

Upon his release, he sought out Maria’s mother and begged her forgiveness. She replied, “If my daughter can forgive him, who am I to withhold forgiveness?” Maria Goretti was canonized in 1950. Alessandro Serenelli was present at her canonization. He then lived with Capuchin Franciscans, spending the rest of his life in penance and prayer. Saint Maria Goretti is honored as a virgin martyr, but honored especially because her life reveals the Gospel’s deepest truth: that forgiveness is stronger than violence and mercy more powerful than sin.

Our first reading is from the Old Testament prophet Ezekiel, who was a priest at the time approaching the Babylonian Exile, 500 years before Jesus. God spoke the message in our first reading to Ezekiel to warn Israel to repent of its corruption or Israel would be destroyed by Babylon, and that if (when) Babylon does conquer them, Israel’s own sins are the reason. God says to Ezekiel, “I have appointed you as a watchman for the house of Israel; when you hear me say anything, you shall warn them for me. If I tell the wicked, ‘O wicked one, you shall surely die,’ and you do not speak out to dissuade the wicked from his way, the wicked shall die for his guilt, but I will hold you responsible for his death.” A watchman of course warns the people of oncoming danger. In this case, the oncoming danger is the exterior consequence of their interior corruption. In the verses after our reading, God says, “I take no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but rather that they turn from their ways and live. Turn, turn from your evil ways! Why should you die, house of Israel?” God is on their side. God wants them to repent, wants them to live and flourish and be secure and happy, as long as they are faithful and virtuous. And so it is really out of divine love that God sends Ezekiel to warn them, and it should be out of love for God and for his people that Ezekiel relays it faithfully. If God tells him to correct a wicked person to dissuade him from his wicked way, and Ezekiel fails to do so, then the wicked person will die for his wickedness, and Ezekiel will be held responsible for cooperating in his death. The second half is the opposite: If God tells Ezekiel to correct a wicked person to dissuade him from his wicked way, and Ezekiel does so, but the wicked person does not obey him, then the wicked person will die for his wickedness, but Ezekiel will be innocent of his death.

It’s important to note that the correction is not just to the culture of wickedness, but to individual persons. Catholic Social teaching says that there’s really no such thing as “collective sin;” all sin is personal sin. That was part of the importance of the Nuremburg Trials over Nazi leadership: each person is accountable for their choices, regardless of the corruption of the system they are part of. Corruption or “collective sin” is just a label given to the collusion of people who sin together. God will not condemn Israel as a corrupt nation, but rather condemns the wicked persons guilty of wickedness who refuse to repent.

In our gospel reading, Jesus gives us a step-by-step guide on resolving conflicts in the Christian community. Step 1: “If your brother sins, go and tell him his fault between you and him alone. If he listens to you, you have won over your brother.” Some translations say, “If your brother sins,” and others say, “If your brother sins against you.” On the one hand, perhaps we should be concerned about our brother sinning at all, since all sins are against God, and an offense against God is much worse than just a sin against you. So out of concern for your brother’s good and salvation, you would want to help him. On the other hand, limiting your correction of sin to only sins against you potentially prevents you from becoming a busy-body correcting everyone of everything. And that’s not good. But there are probably times, especially for people we are closer to, where we ought to correct other sins, too. The key to this first step is that it’s one-on-one, confidentially. It’s done with love, humility, and gentleness. Like St. Maria Goretti, it’s not about you, it’s about your brother’s soul. St. Thomas Aquinas affirms that while love is also a feeling, love primarily is a choice, and the choice is to will the good of the other. Maria Goretti was more fearful for Alessandro Serenelli’s soul than she was for her life. That’s a perfect example of this kind of correction. And this instruction from Jesus is reflected in the Catholic Social Teaching on subsidiarity, which is to solve a problem on the smallest scale effective, as close to the problem as possible. If the problem is one-on-one, try to solve it that way first. If he listens, you have won over your brother. However…

“If he does not listen, take one or two others along with you, so that ‘every fact may be established on the testimony of two or three witnesses.’” It is to further press upon the conscience of your brother that this is a grave matter that he needs to repent of. This is something closer to an intervention. Again, the approach and the object is love, humility, and gentleness. But perhaps also the sin is causing greater damage to the peace of the community.

“If he refuses to listen to them, tell the church.” The Greek word for “church” here is ekklesia, which we talked about a few weeks ago: the assembly of the people of God. It doesn’t necessarily mean to denounce them publicly in the church, but take it to the community leadership. There’s still a respect for the person’s confidentiality and honor, and yet, in subsidiarity, the measures taken ascend in scope and authority as needed.

“If he refuses to listen even to the church, then treat him as you would a Gentile or a tax collector.” We see Saint Paul do this in the first letter to the Corinthians. He excommunicates a member of the community for public scandal regarding sexual sin. But he also makes the intention clear: it is out of love and for the spiritual good of the brother who refuses to acknowledge his great need for repentance for his salvation, as well as for the spiritual health of the community. It is the external consequence of their inward disposition that chooses sin over communion. Jesus says to treat them as a gentile or a tax collector. Well, how are supposed to treat a gentile or a tax collector? To evangelize them, to invite them to soften their heart and allow God to change it. We don’t write off anyone as a hopeless cause. Because in love, we will their good, and their ultimate good is eternal salvation.

“Amen, I say to you, Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.” We heard Jesus say this to Simon Peter two weeks ago. Today Jesus says it to the twelve. The college of apostles is given the authority over the flocks entrusted to their care to bind and loose the peoples in their community. In other words, to judge with authority on behalf of the church for the good of the church. But only Peter was also given the keys to the kingdom of heaven, the first among the apostles, and only with Peter is there the authority to bind and loose authoritative teaching for the sake of salvation. And of course it is only to be done in conformity with and obedience to the Holy Spirit.

“Again, amen, I say to you, if two of you agree on earth about anything for which they are to pray, it shall be granted to them by my heavenly Father.” In this original context, it is Jesus speaking to the apostles. And it is presuming that and obedience toward the Holy Spirit. So we might look at this as exemplified by the ecumenical councils of the Church, when the college of bishops, the successors to the apostles, come together to pray and to make binding decisions for the Church on matters of faith and morals, as well as matters of discipline. They are the two or three gathered in the name of Jesus the Good Shepherd, and when they gather in his name, he’s present in his apostles in a special way, in a powerful way, in an authoritative way.

And finally, “For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.” This similar to a Jewish expression, “…When two sit and there are between them the words of the Torah, the divine presence rests upon them.” The words of the Torah are of course the scriptures, the Word of God, who is incarnate as Jesus. So it’s a Christian version of the same proverb: When we gather in his name, when we gather over the scriptures, he is present, the divine presence rests upon them.

There’s also the more modern version in the Church today: “Where two are three are gathered in my name, a fourth is being talked about.” Which is funny, and sadly often true. But that’s kind of what Jesus is teaching against in our gospel reading. We shouldn’t be gossiping about what people do. We should go to those people personally and talk to them confidentially, to correct them in love. In Christ, we are anointed into his prophetic mission, which means, like Ezekiel, we are called to be obedient to God when we are instructed to admonish the sinner, which is one of the spiritual works of mercy. That’s really difficult in today’s society, when it’s against all sorts of social boundaries that call it offensive to do exactly what God is telling us to do out of love for a wayward brother, which makes it an uncomfortable situation we would rather avoid. But like Ezekiel, we may be held accountable by God for the sin of the sinner we refuse to correct. It’s not self-less love to allow our brother to be lost in sin; it’s putting our comfort before their good. But again, don’t gossip about it, don’t go around as a busy body blabbing about everything you can correct about everybody. But in humility and love, correct gently what the Holy Spirit tells you to address (perhaps with a prayer for the help of St. Maria Goretti), that you may win over your brother, and save his soul, and perhaps yours as well.