September 14, 2008

Within the pages of the Biblical narrative, readers of Holy Scripture generally find figures that they particularly like.  There will be people that grasp their attention, capture their imagination and touch their heart. Peter the Apostle is one of those figures for me.  I appreciate the solid, impetuous disciple because he epitomizes “Praxis.”  Praxis is the desire for clarity and understanding so that a theory can be put into practice.  Peter is all about learning in order to act.  How does this theological ideal look on the ground?  What does righteousness look like in the market place?  We’ve seen a vision on a mountain.  Reflection and contemplation are all very good, but what are we supposed to do with it?  Let’s build something!  Peter wants details, instructions and live time experience.

His love of praxis is exactly why the practical theologian asks Jesus, “Lord, what is the precise number of times I’m supposed to forgive someone who has hurt me?”  Peter’s question is very telling because it acknowledges both a deep desire to be a faithful follower of God’s law and the difficult work of forgiveness. Peter wants to do what God says is right, but once he meets the minimum standard, he wants off the hook.  Forgiveness is hard.  It is head and heart labor-intensive.  Forgiveness requires intense use of spiritual and psychic muscle.  The good man wants to know exactly when the responsibility has been met and he can rest.

From Peter’s perspective, taking up the challenge of forgiving the same person seven times seems generous and downright expansive.  He’s hoping to win points for such dedication.  Imagine his disappointment when Jesus suggests that his calculation is sub-par!  We know from the whole story of their relationship that Jesus loves Peter deeply.  He loves his desire for God.  He loves his fervor and intensity.  Jesus wants Peter to get the whole picture because he knows Peter will work hard, making the concepts real.  So, lovingly, patiently, he explains to Peter that forgiveness is not a chore on a to-do list.  Forgiveness is a mindset.  Forgiveness is a way of life.  And, most importantly, while forgiveness starts out feeling like a burden, it turns into a blessing.

Jesus understands Peter’s reluctance to embrace the joys of forgiveness.  Peter’s concerns mirror our own reservations.  After all, the need to forgive is only required after a painful ordeal.  Forgiveness is a response reserved for real hurts.  Forgiveness is the counterintuitive action we employ when we have been unexpectedly betrayed.  It is what we’re called to offer in exchange for undeserved hurt.  To wish someone well, to let go of resentment and anger when we’ve been profoundly wounded seems to be an unreasonable request.  To be severely hurt once is bad enough. T o be expected to extend grace in exchange for the offense adds insult to injury.  Why does Jesus call us to such hard work?  The answer is not surprising.  It is consistent with his message.  It often gets misinterpreted, but the life style of forgiveness is for our own well-being.  Forgiving another has far more benefits for us than it does for the offender.  We often lose sight of this truth, but raising this idea in our consciousness makes the work of forgiving easier. 

The reality of life on earth tells us that human beings are not perfect.  They often fall far away from the image God created for them.  Sad, sad to say, human beings do treat one another badly and sometimes for reasons we’ll never understand.  Sometimes the ill treatment comes from people we trust most and look to love us best.  I have a friend who had a mother who everyone loved.  This woman had scads of friends.  At church, everyone thought she was wonderful; kind and welcoming, so involved and committed.  People were always coming up to my friend and her brother saying, you are so lucky!  Your mom is great!  They would nod and smile, but what the world saw and what they experienced was very different.  Their mother was all about presenting a pretty picture to others.  She dressed her two children up and smiled and laughed with them out in public, but at home she was disinterested in them.  She ignored them.  She didn’t praise them for their accomplishments.  She didn’t give them affection.  She didn’t give them her attention.  So my friend and her brother grew up confused.  No matter how they tried, they could not get her focus or approval and yet, she gave both easily to casual acquaintances.  She was a hypocrite and she undermined the confidence and security of her children.  The person in their lives, who was charged to look after their well-being and nurture their spirit and sense of worth, reneged on her responsibility.  She left her precious charges damaged for life.

Her deceit, being one way in public and another way at home, made my friend and her younger brother very suspicious.  They distrusted people and their motives.  Sure, you seem friendly, but what are you really like?  What do you really want from me?  Because adults in the church and teachers at school and their friends’ parents thought so highly of this woman, my friend doubted her own perceptions – about all people.  She didn’t trust that small voice inside that keeps us safe, that says beware of this danger, trust that intuition.  She couldn’t tell who was reliable and who wasn’t.  Imagine going through life without the sure foundation of a parent’s love.  Imagine navigating through the world without the compass of your own good judgment.  Imagine being closed off from healthy relationships because you just couldn’t trust the intention of another human being.  My friend and her sweet brother carried a world of hurt on their shoulders for a long, long time.

Slowly, as they matured and got more life experience, they began to accept the flawed nature of their mother.  They began to understand that her inability to love them in the ways they needed was not due to their inadequacies, but hers.  They grew to trust their own instincts and eventually they became secure enough to allow love and real friendship into their lives.  But as they began healing and becoming whole, their confusion and deep sadness turned to anger and intense resentment.  My friend got to the point she could not talk to her mother without feeling sick afterward.  She couldn’t see her mom as anything but mean and small and awful.  She stopped going home.  She barely answered when her mom called her.  My friend said, “My mother was never a mother to me.  She lied to me and she lied to the world and I’m better off without her in my life.  She makes me tired and bitter.”  No one could argue with that.  Everything she said was true and her feelings were justified.

Later, my friend started going to church and sometimes this passage and others like it came up in the readings, the sermons and the Sunday school classes.  On those Sundays, my friend left church feeling low.  She said, “I don’t want to forgive my mother.  What she did was wrong and she hurt me and that shouldn’t be okay.  It’s too hard to let all that go.  I can’t do it and I don’t think I should have to.  What, God’s not going to love me if I don’t forgive her, but he’s going to love her after what she did to me?  That’s not right!”

Her complaints seem reasonable.  They sound legitimate.  We can identify with her feelings.  We can champion her side, especially if someone close to us has ever betrayed us.  This call to forgiveness is very, very hard.  But, like most of us, my friend missed the mission of forgiveness.  Pardoning another’s offense is less about letting them off the hook and more about freeing the injured party from the tyranny of hurt and the bondage of resentment.  Holding on to a hurt, keeping the pain alive, legitimate as it may be, does even more damage to our bruised souls.  Forgiveness is a way out of the pain, a way through the hurt to a better place of wholeness and health and well-being.  Forgiveness is an anecdote to undeserved suffering.  This is why Jesus is so serious about this call to action.  What we do when we forgive is set ourselves free.  We say, “I will not allow myself to be defined by this other person’s treatment of me.  I will not see the world and my place in it colored by this person’s cruelty or offense.  I am more than this hurt.  I’m made in the image of God and, therefore, I can be in the world as that God-like person, not this slighted, diminished person.  For the evil this person gave me, I give back grace.  For the hurt this person gave me, I give back something good.  I have the power to choose my response.  And so, I decide: the hurt ends here.

With God’s help, I move through the injury to a place of peace.  I choose, I take control, I respond with hope and good will and the expectation that God has made me stronger than this hurt.  Therefore, I will no longer be bound and held hostage by the original offense, nor the bitterness that follows.  I will forgive and in doing so, I will walk out the prison of anger and into the light of new beginnings and possibilities.  In forgiveness, I will find rest.  A burden will be released and I will be set free!

“Lord, how often should I forgive?  As many as seven times?”  No! Now I see.  That’s not nearly enough.  I want many, many more opportunities to put down hurts and slights and walk towards wholeness and health and the joys that the Lord provides all about me in this life.

Forgiveness: it is not God’s burden. It is his gracious blessing.  Accept it and use it expansively, repeatedly.

Amen.