On Forgiveness

As I mentioned in church this week I started a sermon - wrote about half of it (in an unfinished sort of way) and then read a sermon by William Willemon. Now serving as a United Methodist Bishop, formerly the chaplain of the Duke University Chapel and one of America's best known preachers... I am going to post my sermon first, his second... What I preached was made up heavily of his sermon playing in my head.

- Brett's Original Direction -

Dear Abby... My babysitter just stole some jewellery from the vanity for the seventh time. How many times should I forgive her? Hopeful in Seattle.

Dear hopeful... the quick arithmetic for that sort of situation is 70 times 7 times... You have a long way to go. Just hang in there.

How is that for some advice? Sound like something you might do? Not really eh... truth is, this is one of those “hard sayings” of Jesus – the type of thing that might be good in theory, but that jsut does not seem that practical... after all, we would run out of jewellery.

So what do you believe about forgiveness? Because this is one of those rubber hits the road elements of faith. As Christians we are the ones who model God’s love – in all of its exasperating difficulty. And the Bible is chalk full of examples of forgiveness being one of our chief virtues.

Take for example the prodigal son, a parable about the love of a father that overcomes every barrier the son can throw up; or how about the whole “turn the other cheek” advice of Jesus. In the Older Testament we have God forgiving the people of Ninevah, much to Jonah’s dismay. Saul forgives David and David forgive Saul so many times that the original monarchy of Israel begins to seem sort of like a soap opera.

To be honest, we have often missed the point of some of these stories. And that might be part of the reason we have such a hard time with forgiveness. But I’ll get back to that.

For now let me concentrate on the kernel of truth at the heart of all this – which is that God believes in forgiveness. Or to put it in a less anthropological way – for life to be lived the way it is supposed to be, requires forgiveness.

The Old Testament scholar Gerhard von Rad once wrote: “Real forgiveness is not a purely interpersonal matter, but it reaches deeply into the relationship of men before God.”

In other words – it is deeper than we think. Forgiveness matters because it defines who we are, and what we are, and how we live.

So Peter comes to Jesus with a practical question - “How often should I forgive?” and Jesus responds with “Not seven times, but I tell you seventy times seven times.”
Trust me, it is not because Jesus was a wimp – there is absolutely never a story



Archbishop Desmond Tutu, retired Anglican bishop of South Africa and formerly chairman of South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission, says to forgive goes beyond the unselfish devotion to the cause of others. He adds, “to forgive is a process that does not exclude hate and anger. These emotions are all part of being human.” Tutu continues, “You should never hate yourself for hating others who do terrible things; the depth of your love is shown by the extent of your anger.” This great Anglican humanitarian and spiritual pioneer reminds us of our responsibilities. Tutu stresses that, “When I talk of forgiveness, I mean the belief that you can come out the other side a better person. A better person than the one being consumed by anger and hatred.” Until we find in ourselves the capacity to forgive, we continue to be linked to the cause of our anger and our unforgiving emotions. Only as we forgive are we able to move on and become the more Christ-like person that God has called us to be.


- William Willemon's Original Sermon -


I break one of the cardinal rules of homiletics in this sermon. That rule is: never talk about your trips - nobody cares. But as I studied our text in Matthew I remembered something that happened to me in Stirling, Scotland several years ago. Stirling is northeast of Edinburgh and is the gateway to the Scottish highlands. This is where Robert the Bruce fought to gain Scotland's independence in 1314. The movie Braveheart told that story. It is a beautiful city dominated by a wonderful castle high on a hill overlooking the whole city. Near the castle is the Church of the Holy Rude. In case you're wondering Holy Rude was a medieval term for the Cross of Christ's crucifixion.

This church dates back to the 12th century. The present building was constructed in the 15th century. Mary Queen of Scots was crowned there in 1543. Prince Henry was christened in this church in 1594. James VI was crowned king in that room. As we stood in the sanctuary the guide said: "Do you see the brick line there?" He pointed to a line from floor to ceiling right down the middle sides of the church. "This was one of our most painful stories. During the turbulent 17th century when there were so many religious and political troubles, the congregation was split into factions. An extreme and bigoted Presbyterian pastor, James Guthrie, refused to accept his more moderate colleague. After trying to resolve the conflict for a long time, the town council finally solved the problem by building a wall across the church between the west pillars of the crossing. They did this in 1656. One church became two separate churches, the east and the west. They worshipped back to back from 1656 until 1936. One altar was at one end of the church and a second altar at the other end. In 1936 the wall was removed and the church was reunited. But for 280 years they worshipped in a divided manner."

I looked up at the scars where the bricks had finally come down. I thought about the church I have known and served from its beginning until now. All those divisions in that little band of 12 he called: Peter, James, and John, and then the others. Peter was loudmouthed and impetuous. James and John wanted to be in charge. Judas, the treasurer - well you know that story. Standing there in that 800-year-old church, I thought about all the jealousies and the jockeying for power from then until now.

The splits and divisions between Peter and Paul and Apollos were merely a prelude to the multitude of hassles, struggles over doctrine, and disposition and personalities we still contend with.

I thought about church history standing there. The storms had raged in that very building. When the Protestants went on a rampage and smashed statues and windows and tore great art from the walls and left them bare and ugly. I thought about the heresies and the holy wars and all the fighting we have done in the name of God since our beginnings until this very time. There is not a major denomination in this country that is not having serious trouble today.

What are we to do with our frailties? We do what Christians have been doing in worship since our beginnings. We open the book and listen closely. Those early Christians were realists. When they took the stories about the life of Jesus and pieced them together, the church was young and green and struggling. They were beset by a multitude of conflicts. They sometimes wondered if the road they traveled was just too hard. Rome pressed down on them. Culture twisted them. The Jews gave them a difficult time. There were sexual and ethical problems aplenty. It was a mess. And this is why the early church put together the documents that we now know as the Gospels. One of the things Matthew wanted to do was help the struggling church find its way through choppy waters. Those early believers were hungry for help on how they might create and sustain real community. So Matthew's Gospel provided direction to help the church maintain a meaningful fellowship in a hard time.

What is the glue that holds this thing we call church together? What is it that keeps the walls down or at least tears the walls down once they've gone up? What is it that moves us down the road without killing off each other?

Today's text from Matthew gives us our answer. Simon Peter came to Jesus in Matthew 18. He was the spokesperson. He was strong, opinionated, and a little pushy. He was smart and what we might call a man's man. Jesus had already talked about who was greatest in his kingdom. Become like a child, he had said. Jesus told them not to put a stumbling block between any of the weak ones. They were to help one another. Do not despise, he said, any of the little ones. Be like the shepherd who went out after the one lost stupid, stubborn sheep. The sheep shouldn't have run off. He should never have gotten lost. But Jesus said we have to go after him. And if one member of the church sins against you - get this - sins against you - you have to do something about it. You have to reconcile. You have to get together. You can't just sit there puffed up. You have to do something about the brick walls between you.

Peter heard Jesus. He took that whole conversation to heart. The Lord's words were about greatness and about helping the weak ones. The story was about the one lost sheep that wandered away and got into serious trouble. He heard Jesus' words about reconciliation. He thought about those he had bumped heads with. He must have remembered the faces of those that despised him. Jesus' words made him remember again all the troubles he had known because of church.

This is all background to our text. "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 times seven.'"(Mt 18:21-22)

How often should I forgive someone who has sinned against me? Notice what Peter said. "How often should I forgive someone who has hurt me?" He decided to be generous. Seven times, Lord? The rabbis always said to forgive someone three times. That's going more than the second mile. But if someone offends me, trips me up, makes me lose my job, or just cheats and lies and just makes life miserable for me - how often should I forgive them? Seven times, asks Peter. Wouldn't that be great, Lord?

It was quiet for a moment. Jesus answered his old impetuous friend. Peter, not seven times but 70 times seven. And the Bible says that Simon Peter got out his calculator and began to multiply it and looked up with his mouth wide open. Lord, that's 490 times! And Matthew put this story in his document to help a very troubled church by saying this is the only way you are going to survive. Seventy times seven.

This reminds me of a cartoon that came out years ago. It dealt with the prodigal son. The father was going down the road to meet his boy and the caption reads: "I'll be glad when this boy grows up; this is the sixth fatted calf I have had to kill."

Peter would certainly understand the old man's frustration. Simon just stood there with his calculator. He checked it again. Seventy times seven equals 490 times. We're supposed to forgive 490 separate times? It isn't in the text but I can almost hear Jesus tenderly saying: "Simon, put away your calculator. It isn't about math. It isn't about score keeping. Forgiveness is an attitude, a way of life, Peter - it's a matter of the heart."

Matthew envisioned the Christian church as some kind of laboratory where we learn to forgive, the place where we hammer out these hard things between us. I remember years ago a sermon entitled: "We Learn to Fight Like Christians in the Church so that we can Fight Like Christians in the World." Ever watch some of those town hall meetings about some problem in the community? People are just furious, red-faced, sitting there all puffed up, saying the ugliest things to their neighbors or to the officials who have come to explain things. It reminds me of some church business meetings I have been to through the years. We in the church have not done a very good job of dealing with forgiveness and reconciliation. And this is to be one of the differentiating points between Christians and the rest of the world.

Four hundred and ninety times, Peter says - 490? And Jesus nods his head. And 490 times does not mean to keep a record. It does mean that forgiveness is a way of life and never some isolated, occasional act of heroism. Forgiveness, then, is the constant homework of Christians. Unfinished business, always.

Who is it you cannot forgive? Who is it that hurt you so bad? They may be dead but the power of that hurt still lingers. They could easily sit week after week on the pew in front of you. When Simon said: Should I forgive seven times, Jesus shook his head. Seventy times seven. But Jesus, you don't understand. She broke my heart. She just dragged every feeling I have through the gravel pile. She betrayed me. Seventy times seven. But he tore up my life. He lied through his teeth and I lost this job and life has never been quite right since. Seventy times seven. But you don't understand how it is. He abused me for years on end. I still carry the scars. I can't let it go. Seventy times seven. You don't know how they hurt my daddy. Good man. Decent human being. Best pastor I ever met. And they just broke his heart. I can't go back to church. Seventy times seven.

The story goes that when the Civil War ended a group gathered outside the White House and President Lincoln came out to say a few words to the crowd. It was a great time of celebration. A band was there. The President talked briefly about the horrors of war and then he joked a little because he had a keen sense of humor. The people were delighted and exuberant that they had won the war that had been going on for four years. Lincoln talked about how important it was to get back together and heal the nation's wounds and let brothers and sisters join each other once again. Then he said, "In a few moments, I want the band to play and I am going to tell them what I want them to play."

The crowd thought he would get them to play "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" that had become their theme song. But Mr. Lincoln said, "I wonder if we, in winning the war, have the right now to play the music again . . . if maybe that's not appropriate." That should have been a clue to what he was going to say. Because he turned to the band and said, "Now this is what I want you to play - I want you to play Dixie." The band almost dropped their instruments. For a minute they just stood there with the crowd openmouthed. They looked at one another. They didn't have the music to Dixie. They hadn't played Dixie for quite a while. Then after a long pause the band finally got together and they played Dixie. There was not a dry eye in the crowd.

When we forgive we play music we never thought we could play and sing songs we thought we could never sing. This really is one of the great distinguishing marks of the church. Seventy times seven. Forgiving seventy times seven. Quite a song! Quite a song! And what a rare and wonderful church it makes.