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!

Even Death on a Cross

The portion of Paul’s letter to the Philippians, which we read today, offers for us a profound challenge: “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.” How are we—mere mortals—supposed to have the same mind as Jesus the Christ had?

As I think more about having the mind of Christ the task becomes exponentially more difficult. To me it seems easier to think of the ways that would be ineffective at having the same mind as Christ. How might we not be like Christ? Well, we can rule out committing the deadly sins and breaking the Ten Commandments, but then we get into some trickier territory. Thinking good thoughts always seems like a good idea, but then not acting on our good intentions is part of the pavement on the way to hell. What may be even worse though is believing that it is up to us to act our way into being like Christ.

For us to be like Christ we cannot simply think our way into this state, nor can we act our way into having the mind of Christ. In actuality, we may be overthinking all of this. The first word in this reading is let, as in let it happen because the Spirit is already at work. Is that it? Are we just passive blobs like amoeba sitting on a log? I do not think so, I believe we do have a part to play. The way for God’s Spirit to transform not only our minds but also the rest of our innermost and outermost comes in a most countercultural way: death.

Last night I saw a documentary about the band the Avett Brothers. They are a great folk/songwriter band from North Carolina who create music that has depth and soul uncommon for our age. I commend your listening to their albums. At one point one of the members of the Avett Brothers made an offhand comment about how everyone thinks their songs are morbid because simply put they are not afraid to talk about or rather sing about death. Apparently writing about loss and death, instead of wild nights and finding love in this day and age invites criticism.

No one really likes talking about death, but somehow at least from my perspective, some death is easier to think about than others. A well-lived life of eighty, ninety, or a hundred years often does not bear the same sadness as a life cut far short. The end of a struggle with a debilitating disease feels easier for us to bear than seeing someone pass tragically in the blink of an eye. How much more would the death of a beloved friend or family member strike us? How much more would the death of a beloved leader shake us? How much more would we be transformed by the death of not just a leader, teacher, or friend, but the death of God who came to save us by being with us?

These beautiful words from Paul’s letter do not simply invite us into living like Christ, they invite us into dying like him. Christ who became incarnate in Jesus did not regard his godly nature as something to be exploited rather, he emptied himself and was born as a lowly human being—a human being acquainted with poverty, oppression, and suffering. This life though was not the end of the story, it was only the beginning—or rather the continuation of what God has always been doing. We may not like to speak about it, but on this day—Holy Cross Day—we are drawn into this moment when Jesus not only endured death, but even death on a cross. So why is this so important and what does it have to do with letting Christ’s mind be in us?

For us to let our entire lives be transformed by Christ, for us to let the same mind be in us as was in Christ Jesus we are called to our own crosses and to our own deaths—not just literal crosses and deaths, but every form that these sufferings take. Now, as the Avett Brothers remind us no one likes talking about death—especially death on a cross. As strange as it sounds though, seeking our own crosses is a prerequisite for living as a Christian. Yes, God will always love us, but living as a follower of Christ does not mean that we point to Jesus’ death and keep on going the same as we always have. Nor can we call ourselves Christians if merely think that all our screw-ups are covered in some cosmic insurance policy. That is not life in Christ—that is not letting the same mind be in us as was in Christ Jesus.

Christ Jesus came to show us that the ways that had always been no longer worked. That sacrificial violence does not work anymore. Even though they crucified God Incarnate, God still lived. We cannot scapegoat the problems out of our lives, like previous generations tried to do. We cannot avoid the problems of our lives, like we may be prone to do. Nor, can we otherwise try to weasel our way out of our own issues. Instead, we are required to do the hard work and heavy lifting of picking up our own crosses. This means turning inside and seeing what it is that needs to die so that God may resurrect it. This means inviting God to be in us. This means that through us God can turn violence, disaster, famine, and all other suffering in this world into a source of God’s healing redemption. For us to have the same mind as Christ we must start by seeking out our own crosses, lifting them up, and walking with Jesus not away from hardship, but towards it!

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By the Numbers

In case you are wondering, my fantasy football team laid a big fat egg yesterday. Even though I meticulously researched my team and wound up with one of the best drafts according to projected point totals, my squad of players from around the National Football League just did not show up yesterday. Fortunately for me, the team I am playing performed even worse than me. Nothing is final quite yet, but I may make it out of week one with an unearned victory. Strangely enough, this light-hearted experience of leisurely fantasy competition has given me an insight about this coming Sunday’s Gospel lesson.

This week’s story of the Good News picks up midway through Matthew Chapter Eighteen. In the previous verses Jesus spoke about lost sheep, how to practice forgiveness in the Church, and now we get Peter’s question about how many times we ought to engage in reconciliation with someone before we give up on them. Peter thinks the over/under on times to forgive a fellow member of the church needs to be set at seven. Seven may not seem like a lot, but in those days it was not just a lucky number.

Seven during the time of Jesus had greater significance than it simply being a prime number or the number of days in a week. During this time, according to the New Annotated Oxford Bible, “Seven often symbolizes ‘completeness’”.[1] Thus, Peter was not just choosing an arbitrary number from thin air. Instead, this disciple wondered, “If someone in the church sins against me how much shall I forgive them? Shall I forgive them completely?” As we hear such a bold statement on the theme of reconciliation upon which this whole chapter in Matthew focuses, we would presume that Jesus would boisterously agree with complete forgiveness, and yet, that is not what happened.

For Jesus, forgiveness by the numbers—even great numbers—does not go far enough. Later in the week I intend to dive further into the parable of the unforgiving servant—which comes right after this—and how it challenges us to let forgiveness be our most common practice; however, just looking at Jesus’ moving Peter’s ideal of seven times to seventy-seven times gives me all I need to know about what we are called to do. Jesus invites us to practice forgiveness not only to completeness, but to the furthest extent of totality (yes, that is a tardy reference to the solar eclipse). While Mathematics does not typically excite me this much, I want to take one deeper look at the number Jesus cited.

If in the days of Jesus seven stood out as the number of fullness we would do well to notice what number he chose to expand Peter’s understanding. Instead of simply saying forty-nine, which is seven times seven, Jesus chose seventy-seven or complete-completeness. Seven in both columns of this two digit number challenged Peter to see that his view of total forgiveness needed not just a little more, but a whole column more worth of relational healing. Jesus’ challenge though may leave us feeling a bit dejected, as practically forgiving someone who has done us harm seven times seems extravagant—not to mention doing that another seventy times! So what do we do? Let me return to where I started.

My personality manifests as such that even a loss in a fictional game meant for fun among friends causes me to believe that I have fallen short of the mark. Said differently, I have a hard time even forgiving myself. Sometimes I mistakenly think that I can easily forgive someone else when I do not forgive myself. When I lose even at something silly like fantasy football and I have a hard time reconciling with myself, God gives me in this moment an opportunity to practice forgiveness. For me to learn what Jesus speaks here, I believe I must start with the practice of living as a forgiven person myself—like the unforgiving servant whom we hear about later in this lesson. If I cannot freely live into forgiveness first, then God’s grace seems a difficult gift to pass along to anyone else. However, Jesus calls us to faithfully jump into this tricky flow of forgiveness—reconciliation is our home.

Even if I lose not seven times but seventy-seven times, Jesus tells me not to hold these failures against myself because no matter how many times I fall short God always says to me (and to you too), “I love you. You are forgiven.” This eternally rings true not only in the small, stupid missteps like fantasy football losses, but in the gigantic, important failures, like when we harm friendships, marriages, and other relationships with children, grandchildren, other relatives, coworkers, neighbors, or strangers. As I continue to process this passage, I feel challenged to actually live into forgiveness—not just saying the words of the confession, but letting them take hold in my heart. For we are people who have been forgiven, now Jesus challenges us to take this healing and reconciliation into the world.

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[1] Cousland, J.R.C. "Matthew." In The New Oxford Annotated Bible: New Revised Standard Version 4th Edition, 1765. New York: Oxford University Press, 2010.

What About Demons?

After a certain number of days in class we could not collectively wait any longer. We had to ask our liturgy professor about “the page.” Of course, I am referring to the one page within the Book of Occasional Services that mentions exorcism. Exorcism is the practice of removing a demon from a person, place, or thing. When my seminary classmates and I stopped clamoring long enough for our professor to talk I remember thinking, “That’s it?”

At least where I went to seminary they did not teach me how to cast out those dark forces. The page in the book only refers to seeking consultation from your bishop. Some dioceses may have someone who openly speaks of her ability to help people overcome demonic forces, but I don’t know who that person is in our diocese. So what is the deal with demons? Is it just mental illness shrouded in old language or are there really forces controlled by Satan? What are demons anyway? To understand our current beliefs about demons we would do well to go back to Jesus’ own day.

Throughout the gospel accounts demons get portrayed in a fairly uniform way. According to The New Oxford Annotated Bible, “Demons were thought of as nonmaterial existences of a personal kind, hostile to human welfare and rebellious against God.”[1] Huh? Demons were thought not to have bodies, but they had personalities. They were mean to people, and they did not like God. What is more humans during this period of the New Testament did not know what to do in the face of demons. Jesus on the other hand did.

Using today’s Gospel lesson as an example, we discover that Jesus not only had power over demons, but seemingly he had a pre-existing relationship with them as a whole. Jesus who was teaching on the Sabbath—a big no-no!—astounded those in this Gentile territory with his authoritative teaching. In the midst of the lesson an unclean demon who was possessing a man came forth. Oddly, as the demon came in he made it known that he did not want Jesus to do anything to him, crying out, “Let us alone! What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth?” If the demon had said nothing, would it not have been able to remain? We will return to this in a moment. For now notice that this demon knew who Jesus was, but there is even more.

The demons did not only notice Jesus, but they understood his identity far more easily than human beings did. In this encounter the demon says to Jesus, “I know who you are, the Holy One of God.” This strange nonmaterial entity got who Jesus was before the disciples had made their own messianic proclamation. Those around this encounter though did not get the full message. Instead they were just impressed with Jesus’ ability to cast out this force that usually leaves both victim and healer helpless.

Not only could Jesus communicate with these demonic forces he had control over them. As he cast out this demon he left the man whom the demon had possessed unharmed. The response from the people was not to fully understand who Jesus was—at least not at the time. Instead, they were just amazed at what had happened. Of course, this is a great first step in following Jesus—being amazed by him—still the trouble that arises as Jesus performs these healings happens when people merely expect a transactional relationship with this man from Nazareth. Heal this person and I will be impressed. So where does this leave us?

Let me return to the thought of a silent demon. In our current context as 21^st Century Episcopalians leaving in a globalized world with advances in medicine, technology, education, entertainment, and so many other fields we may think this demon story is just a silly tale. However, what is to say that we do not all have immaterial personalized forces that could wreak havoc upon us? If put under enough stress I believe we may all face strange temptations presented to us by creatures that our conscious mind and our rational brain cannot understand. So many times though the demons we face now are silent. Perhaps said more fittingly, we all face challenges of sin that we cannot blame upon some personalized force, some demon or another.

If we all have the potential of facing demons or at least the real challenge of removing those things that distort our relationships with God and neighbor, what do we do? Well, I am not sure I have the perfect answer for this question. However, as I think of our current understanding of demons, I think we are called to actually do something that the demonic force from today’s lesson did. We are called to recognize Jesus as the Holy One. Whatever forces that we feel like are overwhelming us—whether it is deep seeded emotions, past traumatic experiences, current challenges, or anything else—we will face them more boldly with the help of the Holy One of God. This does not mean these problems will disappear, but we will not face them alone.

I still am not sure what the appropriate response to demons is. Nor, am I even sure what demons are. However, I know that we are called to respond to those challenges—as well as the joys—of life by daily asking Jesus to walk with us. God has authority to do all things—that is to say through God all things are possible. How will you rely upon God today?

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[1] Soards, Marion L. "Luke." In The New Oxford Annotated Bible: New Revised Standard Version 4th Edition, 1837. New York: Oxford University Press, 2010.

Solving For “X”

Algebra was my favorite math class. Spatially I did not have the gift to imagine shapes in Geometry. Trigonometry never quite agreed with my brain. Algebra though—that was my sweet spot! Theoretical enough to excite my inquisitive nature and straightforward enough not to make my head hurt. I still recall the strange pleasure of solving for “X” on some particularly difficult questions in the pressure moment of a final exam. You may be thinking this guy is a nerd—and while you are quite correct—we need a little bit of algebra to understand today’s Gospel lesson. Stick with me, I promise I will make it easier—and maybe even a little more fun—than math class.

Let’s start with something easy. 2 + X = 4. To solve this one we try to isolate the X to one side of the equation, so we do this by subtracting 2 from both sides. In this case we discover that X = 2. You probably did not need any algebraic training to tell you that that 2 + 2 = 4. Still it is a useful skill when we happen upon a problem like today’s Gospel. It seems we have the end of an answer, but we are missing a component that leads us to that answer. To put it into algebraic language: Jesus + Suffering = X. To discover the answer we actually have to link back to last week’s Gospel lesson.

In the previous text, Jesus asked his disciples, “Who do you all say that I am?” Peter boldly replied, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God.” Ding! Ding! Ding! Peter got it right, at least in that moment he did. As we turn the page over to today’s story, which picks up soon after Peter’s affirmation, we find that this disciple is taking Jesus aside saying, “God forbid [you undergo suffering or death]! This must never happen to you.” Jesus recoiled at his disciple like a venomous viper, “Get behind me Satan. You are a stumbling block to me; for you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.” Why such anger Jesus? What gives? The answer lies in our algebra problem.

Jesus + Suffering = X. The X is already on one side of the equation by itself, but what Peter was trying to do was remove the suffering from Jesus. What may in fact be missing from the equation is not just what the “X” stands for, but also the other elements of what lay ahead of Jesus. Jesus not only was to undergo suffering, but also death and eventually after three days resurrection. Jesus + Suffering + Death + Resurrection = X. Peter actually already solved the problem for us last week. “X” equals Messiah. The trouble is that what Peter wanted to do was not find the missing figure, but rather do away with all that would lead to Jesus’ Messiahship.

Earlier this week when our staff read this lesson together, our financial administrator astutely pointed out that Peter gets a bad rap in this story. Peter really just wanted what he thought was best for his teacher. If things had been different, if those in the world at the time—human beings obsessed with power, pleasure, and privilege; people not unlike us—if those in the world had accepted Jesus, his teachings, and his identity as the Son of God Peter’s desire would not have conflicted with Jesus’ mission!

This makes me wonder, “Could God have done things differently?” Of course, this is God we are talking about here! And yet, this is not what happened. Humans and particularly the powers of the day—religious, political, social, and otherwise—did not accept Jesus’ identity. And so, God’s plan of salvation could not be so easily achieved. Jesus could not just heal, feed, and teach things like, “God loves you. And if God loves you, you are now free to love God and one another.” Instead, the way Jesus lived into his true identity—redeemer of the world—lead down a different path.

For God to show that God truly loves us human beings no matter what something else, some other variable, had to arise. This variable was so shocking that even the person who saw Jesus’ true identity—Peter who knew the answer—could not handle it. The most audacious, most profound, and most clear sign of God’s love came in what Jesus pointed to in today’s Gospel lesson—the Cross.

The Cross was not merely a sign of God’s love for us, it was not only an example of God’s love for us, it was not just some act that God did for us, nor is it some magical device we use to escape all our problems today. No, the Cross is something different. The Cross was, is, and will be the only way. Now, before you shut off and think all I am saying is we are bad and we need God to save us—which is true, but not the whole truth—let me say more.

The Cross is not only about us. It is not just something we flawed human beings did to Jesus and others long ago. This was the way that God chose to love us beyond all else. Jesus willingly faced this betrayal, suffering, and loss. And so, when our lives are so difficult, when we are in the midst of suffering, when we taste pain, feel loss, and inhale death with every breath we do not do this alone. Jesus was crucified once for all, but in so many ways Jesus still chooses to be on the Cross.

Jesus is on the Cross with those suffering in the wake of Hurricane Harvey. Jesus is on the Cross with all those who are facing hatred based upon their color, creed, sexual orientation, gender, or any other attribute. Jesus is on the Cross with all those who suffer from chronic pain, addiction, abuse, violence, or those who suffer for the sake of conscious. Jesus is on the Cross with all those who care for those in need. Jesus is on the Cross with those who put themselves in harm’s way to protect the highest virtues and values of our species. Jesus is on the Cross with the outcasts, the poor, the hungry, and the homeless. Jesus is on the Cross with any and all who suffer.

We may believe that the dilemma set forth last week and this week in Matthew’s Gospel account revolves around the identity of Jesus. We may with the disciples ask, “Is he the Messiah? What type of Messiah is he? What does all this mean?” But this is not the only problem we face. It is not only about Jesus being the Messiah, but also how we respond to this truth.

As Jesus walks with all those who suffer, he invites us to do the same. If we want to save our lives, we will lose them for Christ Jesus’ sake. To do this we must take up our crosses to walk with him—going to the places where all those who suffer reside. Jesus goes ahead of us to the Cross. There he shows us what ultimate love looks like. For us to truly live we must lose our lives by doing like him and bearing our crosses as we follow him.