The Power To Change The Past
Stories
Lectionary Tales For The Pulpit
Series VI, Cycle A
Object:
A fellow went to the hospital to visit his partner who had been taken strangely ill and was near death. Suddenly, the dying man began to speak. "John," he said, "before I go I have to confess some things and get your forgiveness. I want you to know that I robbed the firm of $100,000 several years ago. I sold our secret formula to our competition, and John, I am the one who supplied your wife with the evidence that got her the divorce and cost you a small fortune. Will you forgive me?"
John murmured, "That's okay, old man. I am the one who gave you the poison." Seventy times seven.
In a perverse and extreme way, the partner reflects modern attitudes toward forgiveness. We live in a balance-sheet world that demands justice. Society counsels, "Don't get mad; get even." When things do not go our way, we are advised to "Sue their socks off!" Despite growing up with advice like "Forgive and forget" or being reminded that "To err is human, to forgive divine" and our regular "Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors," we do not find much forgiveness out there. Children cannot forgive their parents and parents cannot forgive their children. I know wives who cannot forgive their husbands and husbands who cannot forgive their wives. Arabs have difficulty forgiving Jews; and Jews, Arabs. There is not much forgiveness anywhere.
That is nothing new though. Two-thousand years ago, the question was posed, "Lord, how often am I to forgive ... seven times?" Peter's question to Jesus was a good one (and his offer more than generous -- after all, if someone wrongs you over and over and over again, you will be inclined to call time out before the seventh go-round). It was rabbinic teaching that a man must forgive his brother three times. No doubt Peter thought that he was being incredibly charitable, for he takes the rabbinic teaching, doubles it, adds one for good measure, and suggests (with eager self-satisfaction, no doubt) that it will be enough if he forgives seven times. Peter thought he would be warmly commended, I suspect, but Jesus' answer was that the Christian must forgive, depending on your translation 77 times or seventy times seven. 490? But this is celestial arithmetic. Jesus meant 70 x 7 x 77 x 70 x 7 x 77 -- on to infinity -- forgiveness with no limit at all.
The Lord then told the story of the servant forgiven a humongous debt who went out and dealt mercilessly with a fellow servant who owed him a tiny bit -- 1/600,000th of the original amount. No forgiveness here -- debtors' prison. The king heard about what happened, called the servant in and had him imprisoned because he was not willing to show the same forgiveness he himself had been shown. Jesus' conclusion was, "So my heavenly Father will also do to everyone of you, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart." Scary.
There are several places in scripture that indicate a quid pro quo concerning forgiveness -- if we don't give it, we won't get it. I know the Lord would not intend for us to build a theology on that emphasis -- too much else in the Bible makes plain that God's forgiveness of our sin comes because of what Christ did, not on what we do or fail to do. But the harshness of the story's ending has its inescapable truth -- the one who fails to forgive ends up in a prison of his own making, now unable to experience forgiveness for himself.
Forgiveness is a decision about how to deal with what supposedly is beyond our reach -- history. One choice we can make about wrongs we have suffered is to seek revenge: poison your partner ... "Don't get mad, get even" ... "Sue their socks off." The idea behind those options is misconceived justice, that there is a balance owed to you, and somehow you will make the wrongdoer pay. To choose forgiveness is to give up that balance-sheet view. By letting go of our sense of being wronged, we can also let go of bitterness and resentment and open ourselves to much more healthy and wholesome emotions.
Real forgiveness is not a little thing -- in fact, it is one of the most powerful forces in the universe. It is the only thing in this world that actually has the power to change the past.
John murmured, "That's okay, old man. I am the one who gave you the poison." Seventy times seven.
In a perverse and extreme way, the partner reflects modern attitudes toward forgiveness. We live in a balance-sheet world that demands justice. Society counsels, "Don't get mad; get even." When things do not go our way, we are advised to "Sue their socks off!" Despite growing up with advice like "Forgive and forget" or being reminded that "To err is human, to forgive divine" and our regular "Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors," we do not find much forgiveness out there. Children cannot forgive their parents and parents cannot forgive their children. I know wives who cannot forgive their husbands and husbands who cannot forgive their wives. Arabs have difficulty forgiving Jews; and Jews, Arabs. There is not much forgiveness anywhere.
That is nothing new though. Two-thousand years ago, the question was posed, "Lord, how often am I to forgive ... seven times?" Peter's question to Jesus was a good one (and his offer more than generous -- after all, if someone wrongs you over and over and over again, you will be inclined to call time out before the seventh go-round). It was rabbinic teaching that a man must forgive his brother three times. No doubt Peter thought that he was being incredibly charitable, for he takes the rabbinic teaching, doubles it, adds one for good measure, and suggests (with eager self-satisfaction, no doubt) that it will be enough if he forgives seven times. Peter thought he would be warmly commended, I suspect, but Jesus' answer was that the Christian must forgive, depending on your translation 77 times or seventy times seven. 490? But this is celestial arithmetic. Jesus meant 70 x 7 x 77 x 70 x 7 x 77 -- on to infinity -- forgiveness with no limit at all.
The Lord then told the story of the servant forgiven a humongous debt who went out and dealt mercilessly with a fellow servant who owed him a tiny bit -- 1/600,000th of the original amount. No forgiveness here -- debtors' prison. The king heard about what happened, called the servant in and had him imprisoned because he was not willing to show the same forgiveness he himself had been shown. Jesus' conclusion was, "So my heavenly Father will also do to everyone of you, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart." Scary.
There are several places in scripture that indicate a quid pro quo concerning forgiveness -- if we don't give it, we won't get it. I know the Lord would not intend for us to build a theology on that emphasis -- too much else in the Bible makes plain that God's forgiveness of our sin comes because of what Christ did, not on what we do or fail to do. But the harshness of the story's ending has its inescapable truth -- the one who fails to forgive ends up in a prison of his own making, now unable to experience forgiveness for himself.
Forgiveness is a decision about how to deal with what supposedly is beyond our reach -- history. One choice we can make about wrongs we have suffered is to seek revenge: poison your partner ... "Don't get mad, get even" ... "Sue their socks off." The idea behind those options is misconceived justice, that there is a balance owed to you, and somehow you will make the wrongdoer pay. To choose forgiveness is to give up that balance-sheet view. By letting go of our sense of being wronged, we can also let go of bitterness and resentment and open ourselves to much more healthy and wholesome emotions.
Real forgiveness is not a little thing -- in fact, it is one of the most powerful forces in the universe. It is the only thing in this world that actually has the power to change the past.
