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.
amish-shooting-10-year-anniversary-pennsylvania-the-happening
The outside world was incredulous that such forgiveness could be offered so quickly for such a heinous crime. Of the hundreds of media queries that the authors received about the shooting, questions about forgiveness rose to the top. 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 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 (so much for once saved, always saved). 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 up 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 reason 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 when 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. 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.
The Snarky Vicar 