Sermon: Matthew 18:21-35 (Proper 19A)

11 September 2005, Christ Church Riverdale

The Rev. Robert C. Lamborn, Rector

 NRSV Matthew 18:21 Then Peter came and said to [Jesus], "Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?" ²² Jesus said to him, "Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times. ²³ "For this reason the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his slaves. ²⁴ When he began the reckoning, one who owed him ten thousand talents was brought to him; ²⁵ and, as he could not pay, his lord ordered him to be sold, together with his wife and children and all his possessions, and payment to be made. ²⁶ So the slave fell on his knees before him, saying, 'Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything.' ²⁷ And out of pity for him, the lord of that slave released him and forgave him the debt. ²⁸ But that same slave, as he went out, came upon one of his fellow slaves who owed him a hundred denarii; and seizing him by the throat, he said, 'Pay what you owe.' ²⁹ Then his fellow slave fell down and pleaded with him, 'Have patience with me, and I will pay you.' ³⁰ But he refused; then he went and threw him into prison until he would pay the debt. ³¹ When his fellow slaves saw what had happened, they were greatly distressed, and they went and reported to their lord all that had taken place. ³² Then his lord summoned him and said to him, 'You wicked slave! I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. ³³ Should you not have had mercy on your fellow slave, as I had mercy on you?' ³⁴ And in anger his lord handed him over to be tortured until he would pay his entire debt. ³⁵ So my heavenly Father will also do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart."

             The first thing to say on Sunday, September 11^th, 2005 is that it wasn’t easy to discern exactly how we should be church on the first September 11^th that fell on a Sunday since the attacks of 2001.  There are special readings, prayers, and hymns offered by the diocese (some we’re using; some we aren’t), and how will we handle that this Sunday is also Homecoming--traditionally a joyful time of reconnecting after the summer and resuming a more active congregational life?  An article in the Times in mid-August raised similar questions when it came to plans for this day, and whether birthday parties, pro football games, real estate open houses and TV comedy premieres would take place. Some are and some aren’t.  That article suggested that we don’t quite know what to do yet, to commemorate the day when the world changed for us here in the United States, particularly in New York, and not for the better.

             I’ve heard people say, and the article agreed, that a lot of folks don’t want to remember-- don’t want to think about it--and that rings true.  It would be much easier–far more pleasant–to forget that September morning and what came afterward.  Willful forgetting, though, can harden into denial, and can end up diminishing us as human beings and creatures of God,     gradually giving us hearts of stone.  Even in Lent, the church celebrates every Sunday is a little Easter, a feast of the Resurrection of Jesus, and for resurrection to happen there has to be death first.  God’s bringing new life out of violent death empowers the church to be a community of reconciliation, people who are about restoring relationships    to how God intends them to be: relationships between people, between people and God, and extending to the whole of creation.

            Peter said to Jesus, “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-seven times.”  I feel for Peter in this situation: he’s being pretty lenient already, not talking about zero tolerance or even three strikes and you’re out, but forgiving as many as seven times.  In saying “seventy-seven times,” though, Jesus isn’t just multiplying Peter’s leniency by eleven so that Peter has to count higher.  “Seventy-seven times” changes the whole frame of reference: Forgiveness isn’t about scorekeeping, even lenient scorekeeping.  By going on with a story about the laborer who is forgiven millions and millions in debt but still tries to beat three months’ wages out of a co-worker, Jesus shows that our call to move from scorekeeping to generosity grows out of how abundantly God has forgiven us already, how God has reached out in reconciliation to us infinitely farther than we could ever hope for, and so it is our privilege to do likewise. 

            At its best, the church has led this life of a community of forgiveness, and been a catalyst for reconciliation in the wider world.  Moving from scorekeeping to generosity in forgiveness is not some namby-pamby denial of the reality of evil or the suffering that comes from evil acts, but a courageous commitment to look people in the eye, see them-and us–as we are, and work things out when our baser instincts are “fight or flight.”

             Being the rector of a parish, I get all kinds of things in the mail, including evidence that not all of the church is pursuing such a path.  “Battle Cry–A Fight to Save America’s Youth,” the flyer reads, featuring young men in camouflage fatigues. “A battle is raging for the hearts and minds of a generation . . . .” “Casualties are mounting . . .” the group says, [on its website] so teens need to be taught to recognize the “tactics of the enemy.”  “Get your entire congregation involved in the fight,”  I am encouraged, as a pastor on this mailing list, by attending training myself  and leading people to attend stadium revivals.  In a time of war, maybe it shouldn’t be surprising if a church group uses the language and images of war for marketing purposes, but it still disappoints me that fellow Christians would participate in the cultivation of a warlike imagination that is more interested in fighting than in reconciliation.

             “Battle Cry” isn’t the only thing I’ve gotten in the mail recently.  This week, a company  sent me an advertisement offering “peace of mind, protection, and safety to you and your family,” via a range of products, including items for cars, trucks, limos and SUVs: level 1-6 armor, bulletproof glass, run-flat tires, armored fuel tanks, bulletproof batteries, and ram-bumpers.  For the home they offer armored doors, windows and walls, as well as bomb blankets, bulletproof vests, and gas masks.  For buildings and offices, their products include sliding steel doors, pass-thru trays, detention facilities, and--I am not making this up – gun holes.  Since my church and home addresses are the same, I can only assume they didn’t realize they were sending this to a church.

            Now I don’t know which is better on a car, Level 1 armor or Level 6, but I do know this–it’s not going to heal us.  Ram-bumpers and armored fuel tanks aren’t going to give us any lasting kind of security.  Fitting our workplaces with detention facilities and gun holes won’t give us any real peace of mind, much less of heart.  Church rallies full of warlike rhetoric   will not, in my opinion, give us the leaders who are needed to do the hard work not of compromising with evil but of recognizing our fellow human beings as bearing the image of God and dealing with them with humility and realism grounded in love.

             If we’re not careful to stay aware, the post-9/11 climate can lead us to put our trust in all the wrong things.  This can be one of the darkest effects of terrorism--for acts of hatred and violence to encourage in their victims violence and hate; for terrorists–those with the least respect for human life--to become the ones setting the agenda for the rest of us.  And so it becomes crucially important that we do remember, and offer to God the horror of that day for healing and transformation, so that fear and hatred and violence will not become the normal way of doing business.

             And so, I believe, as a church we will best remember by rededicating ourselves to the work of building up our community of reconciliation.  And so, the things we do today are all about that–delighting in each other as sisters and brothers in Christ, remembering 9/11 victims in our prayers for peace, inviting donations for victims of Hurricane Katrina, singing God’s praise to the rafters, breaking bread both spiritually and temporally, promoting our classes for children and adults to deepen their faith, sharing information about parish programs, all in the interest of cultivating hearts that learn to be generous and forgiving even when what they may want to do is keep score. Just as the anguish of Good Friday prepares us to celebrate the joy of Easter  resurrection, so we can celebrate reconnection and building up on the anniversary of a day of alienation and destruction, so can the day that changed the world so negatively four years ago be commemorated with resolve that we will labor with God to change it positively, starting with ourselves.  This is a way we can choose to be church on September 11, 2005, trusting that the God who brought new life out of violent death is bringing it still very powerfully in our midst.