Put The Woman Down And Don’t Drink The Rat Poison

After helping her to cross the river, will you put the woman down?

Genesis 50:15-21
Psalm 103:(1-7), 8-13
Romans 14:1-12
Matthew 18:21-35

©The Rev. Seth Olson 2023

I once heard a comedian talking about his day-to-day interactions with a significant other. Like many romantic relationships, some of the things that his partner did got on the comedian’s nerves and vice versa. In relationships those things that are sweet, cute, and unique in the beginning can become neurotic, narcissistic, or nerve wracking down the road. Yet, this comedian would not immediately say something to his girlfriend about the annoying behavior. Instead, he would wait—storing up the grievances like arrows in an archer’s quiver. Then, when she came back from the bathroom saying, “Honey, you left the toilet seat up again,” he would launch into his savings of offenses… “Well, what about last week when you made me stop watching the game? Or the other day when you left the dishes for me to do even though I had cooked? How about the time you forgot to pick me up from the airport?”

Of course, I have never purposefully saved up a wrong done to me, so that I could hold it over someone else’s head (wink, wink). And, I am sure that you have never once withheld forgiveness. Even though we do not need to hear it, living and forgiving in community have been the focal points of the last two Sunday’s gospel readings. Last week the text focused upon a path to reconciliation: point out the fault by yourself, with one or two others if necessary, and with the whole church if you must, so to ensure that the one doing harm knows their hurtful actions and might amend the relationship. Today, we heard Peter asking Jesus how many times do we have to forgive someone who sins against us? Seven times?

Now, at first Peter’s estimate appears either too high or too low depending upon the relationship. There are some people we might click with from the moment we meet them. It would take a dramatic turn of events for them to need to seek forgiveness seven times. We all also probably know someone that gets underneath our skin from the word go, they might wrack up seven offenses against us in an afternoon. Often these are the people that we love the most. I have heard it said, if you would like a master’s degree in forgiveness, get married. If you want a doctorate in forgiveness, have children (or take care of them)! 

We experience forgiveness every Sunday when we hear the absolution after the Confession of Sins; however, forgiveness is not just something that we do when we kneel at church. This is a way of life, a daily choice that becomes more challenging the closer we come to other people within community. When Peter throws out his question he is asking more though, than just should we forgive people a certain number of times?

The original language comes across in a more complicated fashion depending upon one’s interpretation of the number seven within First Century Hebrew culture. “Should I forgive fully? Or, should I forgive others completely?” are two ways of translating Peter’s question. Another accurate way of posing this question to Jesus would have been, “Shall I forgive others always?” Jesus’ answer points beyond a base level of forgiveness, instead he exponentially multiplied the disciple’s mathematics, not seven times but seventy-seven times. For Jesus rote forgiveness or a limit to forgiveness does not cut it, those who follow his way practice wholistic forgiveness. But how? How can we possibly forgive fully? This is where today’s text turns towards a helpful if troubling tale.

We have a King who holds a servant’s debt that would make Jeff Bezos’ or Elon Musk’s net worth look small—the subject is in way over his head. So, he begs for forgiveness, and remarkably the King listens. Instead of going to jail, being required to work off the many lifetimes worth of debt, or being sold along with his family, the Monarch acts graciously forgiving the entire balance—not a sound financial practice, but an infinitely generous offer. The servant must be elated, right?

Nope! Instead, he turns around and tries to get money back from those who owe him, and when some other servants catch wind of it, they report this double standard to the Ruler. This is where the story gets a bit sus, as the kids say. The King who was abundantly gracious is now lavishly vengeful—even torturing the wicked servant—a rough look if the King is God’s stand in.

Now, most interpretations of this parable invite us to see that 1. The King is God, 2. The Servant is us, 3. God cancels away our insurmountable debts, and 4. We are to forgive others. This is all well and good, but what are we to do with the ending that makes God look more like a petty, tyrannical maniac and less like an eternally forgiving Father? To better understand Jesus here we have to go back to the question that Peter asked in the first place, how much, how completely must we forgive others? Jesus illustrated in this colorful ending that the stakes are astronomically high when we withhold forgiveness from others. God has forgiven you completely—now how will you respond? (This feels like a particularly appropriate question as we celebrate Nellie, Virginia, and Wiliam becoming members of Christ’s Body the Church in Holy Baptism today.)

Hopefully you, (these precious children), and I respond by living into the newfound freedom we receive in being forgiven, hopefully we connect relinquishing another’s debt against us with God’s wiping away our own debt, and hopefully we remember that these two aspects of forgiveness are forever intertwined.

However, if we ever forget, all we need to do is pray words that Jesus taught us, “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” These words, part of the Lord’ Prayer, from earlier in Matthew, we say every week during Holy Eucharist. In fact, this prayer is the only thing that is present in every single liturgy that we pray as a Church. The “Our Father” is so important that we pray it every time we gather together. Still, we may wonder, does God’s not forgive those who do not practice forgiveness with others? Hold onto that question, while I tell you one more story.

“Two monks on their way to the monastery found an exceedingly beautiful woman at the riverbank. Like them, she wished to cross the river, but the water was too high. So one of the monks lifted her onto his back and carried her across.

“His fellow monk was thoroughly scandalized. For two hours he berated [his brother] on his negligence in keeping [their rule of life]: Had he forgotten he was a monk? How did he dare touch a woman? And worse, carry her across the river? What would people say? Had he not brought their holy religion into disrepute? And so on.

“The offending monk patiently listened to the never-ending sermon. Finally he broke in with ‘Brother, I dropped that woman at the river. Are you still carrying her?’”[1]

We can scream at God and believe that God is the one that tortures us, but it is in not forgiving other’s debts that we torture ourselves. As Anne Lamott has written, “Not forgiving is like drinking rat poison then waiting for the rat to die.”[2] Put the woman down, don’t drink the rat poison, practice forgiveness. I bet you didn’t think you’d hear that in a sermon today.

Our task as Christians is to follow Jesus in the practice of loving one another. We practice this in how we choose to forgive each other. As we experience complete forgiveness through God’s mercy, we too are called to lavishly, abundantly, and completely forgive others. We will not always get forgiving others right, and when you miss the mark, I pray you will be able to forgive yourself too.

Do not store up a quiver full of grievances. Put down the woman. Don’t drink the rat poison. Forgive as God forgives you. Forgive your parents, siblings, children, grandchildren, friends, neighbors, enemies, and even yourself, for it is in forgiving others that we ourselves participate in the freedom of God’s mercy. And for that, thanks be to God. Amen.

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[1] Mello, Anthony De. 1982. "The Monk and the Woman." In The Song of the Bird, by Anthony De Mello, 108. New York: Image Publishing Group.

[2] Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith, (New York: Knopf Doubleday Publishing, 1999).

 

Vipers, Axes, and Fire… Oh My!

What happened? The contrast between last week’s portrayal of John the Baptizer and this week’s could not be more opposed. Yesterday the Forerunner of Christ Jesus was embodying Isaiah’s “Prepare the way of the Lord,” but this coming Sunday he will be shouting, “You brood of vipers!” Last week it was baptism and forgiveness. This week it’s the axe already lying at the root of the tree and a winnowing fork ready to separate. Last week it was “All flesh shall see the salvation of God.” This week it’s the chaff burning in an unquenchable fire. Where did the cuddly, camel-hair-wearing John the Baptist go? Why is there such a difference between last week and this week?

Well, the truth is there is no difference. That’s right! You heard me! That one who cried of a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins is the same one who laid out what repentance looks like for the audience in this week’s Good News (and yes, it is Good News!). So why does it feel so different? How can we be so okay with John’s prophetic message last week, but so uncomfortable with it now? Before I try to answer that, let me ask you to think about something. I want you to remember a time when you were wrong. Ready, go!

Thinking…

Thinking…

Got it?

Well, let me clarify what I mean by a time when you were wrong. I’m not talking about a time when someone else thought you were wrong and you thought you were right, like a difference of opinions about something trivial. I mean a time when you were actually wrong—maybe even about something big. You knew you were wrong. That other person knew you were wrong. And, that other person called you out on it. You sweating a little just thinking about it? Yeah, me too.

That time when you were wrong, you knew you were wrong, someone else knew you were wrong, and that someone called you out about it—that situation is what happened in this week’s Gospel lesson. John was not saying that the religious leaders had a different opinion than his about God. This was not varying points of view. John had been around, he had grown up in the Temple culture, and he saw the injustices being carried out there against God’s People (specifically the poor, the widowed, the orphaned, and the otherwise disadvantaged). Thus, John called out those leaders. And, what is more, those religious leaders sat there and they took it, which provides further evidence that they were wrong and they knew they were wrong.

Now, let me have a moment for an aside. I am not saying that John claimed somehow that all of Judaism was wrong. John, himself raised in that Faith, was calling out the religious elite for failing to fulfill their calling as appointed shepherds to nourish God’s sheep. Furthermore, this was not an example of a Christian ideal supplanting a Jewish one, but rather it was an instance when God’s universal concept of justice was being mishandled by leaders—in much the same way that we see contemporary leaders across religions turn a blind eye to those who are suffering. So with this aside out of the way, let’s come back to specifically looking at how one might approach preaching this text on Sunday.

John speaks something that was hard for religious leaders, as well as tax collectors, soldiers, and the masses to hear, make no mistake about that. Still when they heard the (capital T) Truth, it halted them where they were. Such that they had to know what to do next, which is why they asked their questions, "Teacher, what should we do?" In the same, we cannot outrun the Truth, nor hide from it, nor make it disappear. What John the Baptist said to those at the Jordan long ago might not be exactly what Christ’s Prophet would say to us, but make no mistake God has words for us that will stop us indefinitely. Hearing the Truth that convict us, that halt us, that stop us might not be pleasant, but God’s movement in this world is not about comfort or convenience or pleasure. Even in our squirming though there is Good News.

The convicting words of God’s prophets are not meant to shame us into submission, but rather they challenge us to see where we have gone astray, provide us with a way of repentance, and lead us into transformation through the forgiveness of sins. In this coming Sunday’s Gospel lesson we are given this marvelous three-fold movement—conviction, repentance, and forgiveness. And, in Truth that is precisely how John the Baptizer was described in last week’s Gospel lesson too! The question is will we be bold enough to hear God's convicting words, walk the challenging path of repentance, and be transformed by forgiveness in the figurative (and sometimes literal) waters of baptism?

As we move through this journey of Advent, we have a great opportunity given to us in John’s words. During the time when we wait and watch for the coming of Christ, we have an invitation to contemplate where we have trespassed against God’s people and God's movement. Where have you been wrong? What is so convicting that you know you must turn around from it? Is there something for which you desire forgiveness? Take the time to be convicted, to repent, and to experience God’s forgiveness. For though God is infinitely near us when we have wronged, sinned, and gone astray without turning around, we block our own experience of God's love, grace, and forgiveness!

Forgive Us, As We Forgive

There is a joke or maybe it is a true story about a young preacher who was sent to a congregation not unlike our own. He got up one Sunday and he really preached a great, but challenging sermon. When he finished everyone in the congregation patted him on the back for his insightful, yet constructively critical words of inspiration. Seven days passed and he got back up in the pulpit. Pretty quickly some of the congregants looked around in surprise. Those who had been present the week before realized right away that the preacher was speaking the exact same words as the week before. This week when he shook hands with people after the service no one patted him on the back. When finally the church matriarch came out she wondered, “Why did you preach the same sermon two weeks in a row?” “Well,” he replied, “I figure I am going to keep on preaching the same sermon until you all actually live out the challenging words that Jesus was speaking through me.” We may feel the exact same way about Jesus in this section of Matthew.

The entire Eighteenth Chapter of Matthew’s Gospel account walks around the challenging topic of forgiveness. Making my way through I excitedly read of a shepherd fawning after his lone lost sheep, but then I wonder about God leaving the ninety-nine good ones to go in search of the lost one. The middle of the chapter appears even more difficult. As Evan rightly pointed out last week when I see someone struggling with sin I am not so much in need of calling him out, as I am in inviting him home, but this welcome is hard—requiring us to get out of our comfort zones! Two messages back-to-back on forgiveness would be quite enough, but then Jesus goes even further than that young preacher with today’s lesson.

Peter asks a well-meaning question about how much, how often, or how fully—depending on the translation and understanding of the number seven—one ought to forgive. This calls to mind the old saying, “Fool me once shame on me, fool me twice shame on you,” but what about fooling me or sinning against me seven times? Jesus says to Peter not just seven times, but seventy-seven times, or not only completely forgiving, but beyond complete forgiveness is required. If the story stopped there I would think of Jesus as challenging if a little repetitive, but still on the whole understandable. What comes next though appears to be an off-putting story depicting God as one of the worst parable characters in all of the New Testament.

Oddly enough though, this depiction of God as the king in the parable of the unforgiving servant taps into a difficult thread that runs through the Gospel according to Matthew. This theme is so obvious that if it were a snake it would have bit me it was so close to my daily life. Running through Matthew’s telling of the Good News is the theme that “God forgives us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” It is so obvious because we say it daily or at least weekly when we pray the words that Jesus taught us. When Matthew introduces the Lord’s Prayer and gives his commentary on it in the sixth chapter he points out, “For if you forgive others their trespasses, your Heavenly Father will also forgive you; but if you do not forgive others, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.” Taken together with the parable of the unforgiving servant here in Matthew chapter eighteen, this principle that God forgives only when I forgive creates an image of Our Heavenly Father that causes me not to love the Divine, but to fear Him. The logical next step is to say that God only loves me when I am acting in a certain way. Thus, if I am not careful God’s love becomes conditional in a hurry, but is that really it?

As I walk through the parable of the unforgiving servant—one that may have become too familiar for me to hear the ridiculousness of it all—there may be more to the story than a law of conditional forgiveness. Matthew gives me no choice but to connect the king with God in verse thirty-five, but maybe something more exists beneath the surface. Let us take a deeper look.

This king demands an absolutely absurd amount money. Sometime in the past I tried to convert this into modern currency. While it is more than several lifetimes worth of money, in our day and age of the ultra-rich-one-percenters these kinds of stats get drowned out by Bill Gate’s, Oprah Winfrey’s, or Warren Buffet’s net worth. To those who initially heard this story, the numbers stated—ten thousand and talents—were too big to fathom. Early manuscripts of this story shrunk the number because of this. Stated simply to the servant this number was not big, but infinite. While the concept of an infinitely large number can be hard to understand, what may be more difficult is comprehending someone who lends out that much money in the first place.

Sometimes when we take a metaphor, an analogy, or in this case a parable to its furthest extent things do not always make sense. Still the king—remember this is God in this story—empowered this servant to get into such trouble by continuing to allow the slave to run up debts that he would never be able to retire them. Would you like to think of God as a modern day pay-day-lender who will run up someone’s debt? What kind of God allows his beloved creation to get into such indebtedness? Well, actually our God! As tough as this is for me to accept, God allows me to make so many mistakes that I will never be able to make amends for all of those failings. So maybe the king here is verging on being gracious—he did not strike the servant dead the first time he missed a payment. However, before you begin thinking of this king in too rosy a light, observe what he does in response to permitting such a charge to be owed.

On top of enabling a catastrophically large amount to be due this king—who remember Jesus compares to God—orders this servant to be sold along with his wife, his children, and all his possessions to make amends. WHAT? Let alone for a moment that Jewish Law prohibited slavery and even in the Gentile world of the day selling whole families rarely if ever happened. Jesus said in this moment that God who lovingly created all things would actually go through with selling off an entire household to make up for this vast financial obligation. Except, if we do not think of this transaction as monetary and instead understand the wife, the children, and the possessions as collaterally damaged by sin is this not what happens in our own lives? Our own Prayer Book describes sin as the distortion of relationships not only with God, but with other beloveds in our lives. Still, I struggle with this depiction of God.

Perhaps the straw that breaks the camel’s back in this story comes at the end of it. The king forgave the servant. Then, in the servant’s elated nature he fell back upon some bad behavior. He sought recompense of a debt owed him—in perhaps a greedy way. The tattle-tales around him went and told their king. Now this, this is where I struggle to understand God. The king forgets his momentary kindness of relinquishing a big bill, goes beyond selling the servant along with his family, and what does he do? He has the unforgiving servant tortured. TORTURED! This is how Jesus depicts God? This may affect my ability to say, “Forgive us our trespasses/sins as we forgive those who trespass/sin against us” or to use the very fitting Methodist language, “Forgive us our debts as we have forgiven our debtors.” So one very straightforward way of interpreting this parable is fear God for he is a severe master who will act with excessiveness if we do not do practice forgiveness.

Now, wait a minute. This is the danger of literally interpreting the Good News. We can all to easily turn it around, so that instead of being filled with grace this story is about law that requires us to earn our way into the love of God.

If we go back though we will see that the king in this story was not waiting to forgive this servant until he forgave the one who owed him. No, he forgave him the infinitely huge debt first. This servant owed more than he could make in many lifetimes, but the king said it is forgiven. The challenge here is to Peter’s original question of how often we ought to forgive others—and not to is God waiting to forgive us. OF COURSE, GOD IS NOT WAITING! God forgives us like he forgave this servant—infinitely! The challenge that Jesus puts forth to us is to live in such a way that we are changed. To live like we get what Jesus is saying, so that the young preacher won’t have to say the same words over again.

We are changed because we have been forgiven something that we could never pay back. We are freed from that burden of making up to God what we properly owe for all those times we missed the mark. If I truly let this sink into my soul won’t it forever change my life? This story is only about grace. God forgives me and now I am invited to forgive anyone and everyone else. In the long run this is the only thing that leads to life, for what truly tortured that servant was not the king but his own inability to forgive others. This is what will bring us down as well. Who is it that I need to forgive? Who do you need to forgive? We do not have to wait on God to forgive us first, for God has always forgiven us infinitely more than we can ever ask or imagine. Now Jesus calls us to forgive as we have been forgiven, not seven times but forgiveness times infinity!