Think
of someone – friend, neighbor, loved one, co-worker – whom you need to forgive
but have not yet really forgiven.
Last
week we heard about the value of reconciliation – about how to repair
relationships if they have gone off the tracks and Jesus even laid out a whole
process to bring people back together in the community.
But
reconciliation takes two parties – forgiveness only takes one. Reconciliation
is not always possible. But forgiveness is.
And
what is it that we mean when we talk about “forgiveness”? The Greek verb used
in Peter’s question, and in the parable, and in the Our Father for “forgive” aphiemi,
means simply to “let go, to set aside, to cancel, to leave behind”. Forgiveness
is, like love, not a feeling, but an action involving our will rather than our
emotions. But this kind of action never comes easy – even for so great an
Apostle as Peter. “Lord, how many times?” Peter seems to be saying there must
be a limit. Wouldn’t seven times be enough? Even the rabbis suggested that
THREE times is a lot. No, Jesus says, not seven – seventy seven!
Nothing
is more fundamental to Jesus’ teaching than his call to forgiveness and mercy:
giving up debts, letting go of grievances, pardoning those who have harmed us. It’s
an element of the one prayer that Jesus taught his disciples. And every time we
say the Lord’s Prayer, we remind God that we ask to be forgiven only insofar as
we ourselves have extended forgiveness to others: "Forgive us our debts as we
forgive those of our debtors". Because forgiving others teaches us to see how
much we too are in need of forgiveness.
I
think maybe God does not withhold forgiveness if we haven’t forgiven others – I
think it might be that if we don’t know how to forgive, we don’t know how to
accept forgiveness either!
Think
of that person again – the one whom you need to forgive. And think about how
angry they made you, think about how whatever they did caused you pain. Think
about even how you might have wanted to see them hurt as well.
We’re not supposed to be vengeful; we’re called to forgive. The Psalm reminds us, “The Lord is kind and merciful”, and so we are to be forgiving people. But we’re not. Instead, as Sirach says, we take our wrath and our anger and we “hug it tight”. We take comfort in our indignation and we refuse to release our anger and reach out in forgiveness to those who have wronged us.
Because forgiveness is hard. Sure, it’s somewhat easy to forgive the little things – like leaving dishes in the sink, or clothes on the floor, or when someone is late for an appointment with us or forgets our birthday. It is harder to forgive the close friend who talks behind our back or the co-worker who betrays us or the family member who doesn’t approve of us and our lifestyle or our politics. And if those are hard, how do we ever get the point of forgiving the murderer on death row, or the terrorists who flew into the World Trade Center 19 years ago?
Think of that person again – and think about why you have not yet forgiven them. Have they not asked for forgiveness? Have they not said they were sorry or tried to repair whatever it is that wrong you?
The
uncomfortable truth is that real forgiveness doesn’t depend on the action of
the other. What we are frequently looking for is not forgiveness and mercy, but
what we think is justice.
Forgiveness
is so central to Jesus’ message that he gives us the parable as a warning for
what happens when we don’t forgive. When we’re unforgiving, what we’re left
with is our concept of justice. Who can blame the unforgiving servant for
demanding his money? Isn’t it just? Who can blame us when we’ll have nothing to
do with those people who have hurt us? Isn’t it only fair? Who can blame us
when we refuse to admit Muslims into our country and to wage war against them
to avenge the terrorist attacks nineteen years ago? Isn’t it only what our
honor and security demands?
The
problem is, as Jesus points out, that when we withhold forgiveness from all
except those who have “earned” it or “deserve” it, our attitude keeps us in
deep and abiding bondage to our fear, our conflicts, and our insecurities, and
prevents us from ever being open to the limitless forgiveness that God offers
us.
Think
now of someone – friend, co-worker, relative, neighbor – that you need
forgiveness from but have not yet asked for it or received it.
I
know very few people for whom forgiveness – being merciful – isn’t a day by day
challenge. We’ve been wounded, and the wounds often last a lifetime and
sometimes even spill over across generations.
But
we’re not only victims with a cause to be angry. Our own experiences should tie
us, should bind us to the suffering of others around the block and around the
world. We are linked not only to our sisters and brothers by injuries that we
all suffer, but also because the truth is that we cause some of those injuries
– by what we have done and what we have failed to do. Sometimes we are that close
friend who talks behind another’s back or the co-worker who betrays another or
the family member who doesn’t approve of another family member and their
lifestyle or their politics.
And
yes, sometimes we can cause pain for others whom we don’t even know personally
– "by tolerating or turning a blind eye to racism or exclusion in any form", as
Pope Francis says, or voting for policies that harm the least among us, or
trying to solve diplomatic problems with military might.
But
there is another way. The good news is that God’s grace is there for our own
forgiveness, and to strengthen us to forgive others. This eternal gift of the
forgiveness that we celebrate in the Eucharist can help us to find the courage and the strength to embrace Jesus’ words, to
take up the cross, and to live differently. And when we do, starting now, starting today, and a little more each
day, the power of violence, and retribution and inequity is truly broken.
We
are called to forgive. We need to seek forgiveness, offer forgiveness, and
accept forgiveness. We are followers of Jesus who taught us forgiveness – even
when his hands were nailed to the wood of the cross: “Father forgive them, they
know not what they do”
