Matthew 18:21-35 (NRSV)
Forgiveness
21 Then Peter came and said to him, “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.
The Parable of the Unforgiving Servant
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.”
Matthew 18:21-22 contains a saying on forgiveness. Jesus offers an intensifying revision of contemporary Jewish law, much as he does in his earlier teachings on anger (5:21-26), adultery (5:27-30) and retaliation (5:38-42), to offer but three examples. I note that this topic is difficult for many people, so I hope to explore this theme. As we do so, let us remember a wise saying, “The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.”[1]
21 Then Peter came and said to him, “Lord, if another member of the church (ὁ ἀδελφός μου) sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?” Peter is willing to concede that forgiveness must be generous if it is to be gracious at all but wonders whether a limit of seven times a reasonable limit might be to forestall possible abuse. Whether restricted to the same type of offense from the same individual or to any and all offenses by that individual seems to be a detail Peter is willing to leave for the lawyers to work out later. The subject here is sin against the inquirer. Peter has learned about the importance of forgiveness even in order to ask the question. Jesus invited us to pray, “And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors.” He wants to know the limits. Peter, as often, is the leader in approaching Jesus and on this occasion puts a question to him that is recorded only here. Peter enquires about the frequency of forgiveness required in a disciple. He had learned that it is important to forgive, so he has made some progress. Surely, he apparently reasons, there must be a limit? How long must one keep on forgiving? In rabbinic discussion, rabbis frequently regarded four times as enough times to forgive. Peter's "seven times" may represent an attempt to exceed regulations, but it is not enough within the Christian community. 22 Jesus said to him, “Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times (ἑβδομηκοντάκις ἑπτά, or even seventy multiples of seven, and thus 490 times.) The saying in Luke 17:4, which does not include the dialogue with Peter, “And if the same person sins against you seven times a day, and turns back to you seven times and says, ‘I repent,’ you must forgive.” Matthew makes a change under the influence of Genesis 4:24, “If Cain is avenged sevenfold, truly Lamech seventy-sevenfold.” These verses establish the concern as to whether one’s forgiveness of others must be without limits. Jesus explicitly rejects “seven,” and suggests instead — what? Christians are to forgive one another in imitation of God and Jesus. The evangelist’s Greek is deliberately ambiguous, because those who wish to debate the “correct” number have surely missed the point: Don’t keep count at all! There is to be no limit. Jesus rejects Peter's seven times firmly. There is no calibrating forgiveness, no satisfactory line is to be found along the path of calculating numbers of offenses. For Peter's seven times Jesus substitutes seventy‑seven times (or seventy times seven, as some versions have it; either way a lot of forgiving is meant). However, this is not a lesson in arithmetic so that one does not need to forget the 78th offense.
Forgiveness is a form of “self-renunciation,” giving up the right to pay back the person who hurt you. Here is at least one way of looking at our times. When we are mistreated, we are urged to get revenge or to withdraw from the conflict. Our culture nourishes revenge and mocks grace. People constantly criticize each other online, sometimes crossing over into cyberbullying. On a personal level, individuals feel offended and quickly pursue revenge, wanting to balance the scales. But often, people misunderstand the motives of others and jump to incorrect conclusions. We live in unforgiving times. Public self-righteousness is on the rise and the taste for revenge has never been greater.
The capacity to forgive reveals a soul that is free of anxiety, one that is mature and equal to the complexity of human interaction. Forgiveness requires what Aristotle called “a great soul” and is captured in a virtue often ignored and not appreciated. This power of magnanimity lies between the extremes of vanity and timidity. That is where forgiveness is to be found — that place uncovered when we get over our “too big” sense of self and grow out of our smallness of mind and spirit. The Greek word for forgiveness means release. When you forgive, you release yourself as well as the other person. You allow life to go on, to bypass your exaggerated sense of virtue and your worry about being offended. If you sit on your power to forgive, you suppress your joy in life.
Forgiveness is good for you. Not just for the person who needs to be forgiven, but for you. Forgiveness can enable you to regain your personal power. Forgiveness starts with a choice and then becomes a process. Jesus wants us to get stronger and healthier by making the decision to forgive, and then turning that choice into a process.
What are the limits of offering forgiveness? To ask the question is to acknowledge that our hearts are not in a good place. Forgiveness that arises from love for the other person and desire for the flourishing of the other person, regardless of the personal relationship, will not even ask the question.
Kathleen Norris tells of a Benedictine nun who is keeping vigil at the bedside of her dying mother. Seeking to comfort her mother, she says, “In heaven, everyone we love is there.” “No,” her mother responds, “in heaven I will love everyone who’s there.”[2] Such love is difficult here on earth. Forgiveness arises out of genuine love. We will not forgive if we do not love. We will not forgive if we do not get beyond the hurt, even the extremities of the hurt inflicted upon us by others, if we do not love them enough to desire the best for them. Forgiveness is not so much about the other person as it is about your life and heart. Forgiveness, if it comes from the right place in you, will free you from the resentment that will eat away at you. Thus, forgiveness is not about how it affects the other person. It could be meaningful to the other person if the other person repents, opening the possibility of reconciliation. However, forgiveness is important because of the benefits it offers to you. It will free you from the demand for justice and instead leave the other person in the hands of God.
All of us have a grievance story involving someone. It might be parents, a sibling, a teacher, a boss, or a neighbor. Your grievance story may be the nation in which you live and the wrongs you may justly feel it has inflicted upon you. Such a grievance story is usually taking something personally that was not necessarily intended that way, and then holding the other accountable for your feelings. When you blame someone for what you feel instead of hold them accountable for what they have done, you keep yourself stuck in victimhood and inaction. According to some studies, failure to forgive releases adrenaline, cortisol, and norepinephrine into the body. These chemicals are the same way we respond when encountering stressful situations. They also limit our creativity and problem-solving. If continued, it will lead to our feeling helpless and like a victim.
We need to engage in a process of healing. Uncovering anger means examining how you have both avoided and dealt with it and exploring how the offense and resulting anger has changed your health, worldview, and life in general. The phase involves learning about what forgiveness is and what it is not. When we say, “I forgive, but I will not forget,” we say it with the type of emotion that suggests we have not truly forgiven. As it stands, however, of course forgiveness does not we forget. It does not mean we tell the offender to forget it. We not try to convince ourselves that everything is okay. Rather, forgiveness is saying ''I'm okay, and I am willing to let God deal with whether you are okay, and I am also willing to let go of my need to be the tool of correction and rebuke in your life." Forgiveness is not saying "I no longer feel the pain." Rather, forgiveness is saying "I no longer feel the need to hold on to your involvement in my pain."[3] This stage of healing involves acknowledging that the ways you have dealt with your anger up until now have not worked, and setting the intention to forgive. Next, working on forgiveness entails confronting the pain the offense has caused and allowing yourself to experience it fully, then working toward developing some level of understanding and compassion for the offender. This will involve reframing the offender in a way that humanizes rather than demonizes. It involves understanding the offender. What has led the person to behave in this way? An important part of healing my memories of an alcoholic father was the story he shared of when he joined the Navy during WWII. When he told his father, after whom I was named, of his plan, he turned to my grandmother and said, “Look at that, all this work to do here on the farm, and he leaves!” My dad then pounded his fist on the table as if the event happened yesterday and said, “That is all I ever was to him. A hired hand.” It helped me to have some empathy for his life journey. It helped me appreciate what he did give, which was likely all he could give: a roof over our heads, food on the table, and occasional vacations. We can also reframe the event, realizing that through the painful event and its memories we have learned and grown. For me, it meant that as oldest son, I sought to be a good son for my mother and a good brother to my four sisters. To some degree, I suppose, it led to my desire to respect women, but that is another story. Such reframing of the person, group, or event that has caused pain can help one move forward in life. Painful events do not have to determine the rest of one’s life. The final phase includes acknowledging that others have suffered as you have and that you are not alone (for some, this means connecting with a support group of people who have endured a similar experience), examining what possible meaning your suffering could have for your life (learning a particular life lesson, perhaps contributing to one’s strength or character, or prompting one to help others), and taking action on whatever you determine to be your life purpose. [4]
John Newton is the author of some of our most beloved hymns, like “Glorious Things of Thee Are Spoken,” and “Amazing Grace.” He contributed to the spirituality vitality of the church through his hymns. Yet, before his conversion, Newton participated for yeas in the cruel African slave trade. When Newton spoke in his hymn of “a wretch like me,” he was not just using poetic hyperbole. He was a wretched offender in the worst sort of way. However, in his conversion, Newton is also a symbol of the amazing grace of God. After his conversion, he became a pastor and worked for the abolition of slavery. Can you not feel the irony? A hymn from the heart of a former slave trader has become beloved by scores of African-American congregations. While Newton wrote the words, we do not know who wrote the tune. Some have said, with some justification, it is probably that the tune evolved from African folk music. Is not this beloved hymn a fitting symbol of Christian redemption and reconciliation?
Matthew 18:23-35 is a parable concerning the unforgiving slave. The source is the material unique to Matthew. The parable of the unmerciful servant exhibits marks of both oral tradition and exaggerations typical of the stories of Jesus. The fantastic character of the story is also typical of the parables of Jesus. The ambiguity of the story is a feature of many parables of Jesus. Jesus offers another parable that helps us understand the rule of God.
23 “For this reason the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king (ἀνθρώπῳ βασιλεῖ, literally, “a man, a king.”) Perhaps that awkward phrase deliberately sets up a contrast between the actions of the human king with what is to be expected from the divine King of heaven. The “king” is a provincial official in charge of tax collections. This official was one who wished to settle accounts with his slaves. 24 When he began the reckoning, one who owed him ten thousand talents (10 million dollars) 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. The reason for the debt seems unimportant for this parable. This official is hardly a good man! 26 So the slave fell on his knees before him, saying, ‘Have patience (Μακροθύμησον, extending a long time, endure, longsuffering, occurring in Luke 18:7 as well) with me, and I will pay you everything.’ How the slave will repay such a massive debt is not under discussion. 27And out of pity (Σπλαγχνισθεὶς, moved with compassion, which in every other case in Matthew is what motivates the behavior of Jesus toward the crowds and those in need) for him, the lord of that slave released him and forgave him the debt. The human king initially acts in accord with God by forgiving the servant. As readers, we are happy with this outcome at this point. 28 But that same slave, as he went out, came upon one of his fellow slaves who owed him a hundred denarii (100 dollars); and seizing him by the throat, he said, ‘Pay what you owe.’ 29 We now discover that the servant is hardly a nice man, even as we discovered that the official is far from a nice man. He may well not have been worthy of forgiveness in the first place. The reason he was in such large debt to the official may well be because he was a scoundrel. 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. We are surprised by the servant, who has just stimulated a merciful act by the official through his appeal for patience. The story reinforces that the servant is hardly a nice man. The act of putting someone in prison as punishment for not repaying a debt was a widespread practice in the ancient world. Yet, the failure of the slave to imitate the act of forgiveness he had received is striking. At this point, the story contrasts the responses of the two figures in the story, the secular ruler and the first slave. One is willing to forgive a staggering obligation, the other refuses to cancel a paltry sum. The parable invites the listener to choose the appropriate mode of behavior. 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. Those friends react to the course of events as do those listening to the parable: they want justice for their friend, and punishment for the first slave. These slaves also have some failure of forgiveness in that they demand what is owed by the standards of justice and forgiveness established by the initial act of forgiveness offered by the king. If the “unforgiving slave” will not pay the debt of gratitude owed to the king for his graciousness, then he, too, should be imprisoned. As readers, then, we are under the same consideration. In our demand for justice toward the unforgiving slave, we have revealed our vengeful spirit over any merciful and forgiving spirit we may have. 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 (ἐλεῆσαι, a quality blessed by Jesus in the beatitudes (5:7), and a quality of which those in desperate need cried to Jesus for) on your fellow slave, as I had mercy on you?’ Mercy has a close relationship to the goodness of God, and is an expression of that goodness.[5] 34 And in anger (ὀργισθεὶς) his lord handed him over to be tortured (βασανισταῖς, referring to the type of jailor who tortures a prisoner as part of judicial examination) until he would pay his entire debt. The story gives us as listeners, in the person of the fellow slaves, what we wanted, justice toward the unforgiving slave. The human king agrees with the slaves and reverts to demanding payment of the debt of the first slave. The vengeful little servant and the vengeful big ruler exhibit the same qualities. We then realize that neither the ruler nor the unforgiving slave was Mr. Nice Guy! Initially, the ruler was willing to sell the family of the servant to pay off this large debt. The unforgiving servant has accumulated such a large debt, through nefarious behavior, given his treatment of a fellow servant who owed him a paltry sum. Of course, part of the point is that we are too much like the servant who does not forgive the behavior of others toward us and the ruler who reaches the end of his patience and exacts justice. The powerful official now fails to forgive again by revoking the benefits of the initial act of forgiveness. The official becomes an illustration of what happens if we put a limit on forgiveness. The resulting damage goes far beyond just the personal plight of the slave “handed over to be tortured”; if the king’s clemency can be withdrawn, then the whole social order is thrown into chaos.[6] Thus, the ending sows confusion for listeners, who now do not know how they are to respond. It depicts God as vindictive whose mercies are dependent upon human behavior. Jesus often builds ambiguity into his parables. 35 So my heavenly Father (“Our Father, who are in heaven) will also do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart.”[7] The parable ends with suggesting that while human beings who want to exhibit being part of the rule of God must extend limitless forgiveness, God has a limit on forgiveness because of the need for justice. Something inside us is happy when the master forgives the large debt, angry when that slave does not forgive the paltry debt owed by a fellow servant, and we join the friends in going to the master to demand justice. Human experience cries out for both justice and mercy. We need both. This conclusion suggests that it is best to leave justice in the hands of the heavenly Father while we practice mercy and forgiveness.
The awkward phrase in Greek that introduces the main character is, a man, a king, referring to a provincial official in charge of tax collection. It sets up a contrast between the actions of the human ruler in the story to the divine ruler. The ruler is ready to settle accounts with his slaves. A slave owed him an impossible amount to repay. Let us say it is 10 million dollars. The reason for such a large debt is not a matter of concern in the world of this parable. The ruler is ready to sell him and his family and recover as much as he can. For this reason, I find it a mistake to turn this ruler into an allegorized version for the divine ruler. The slave begs for mercy, saying that if the ruler has patience the slave will repay him everything he owes. Personally, I find it highly unlikely that he could do so. Both the ruler and the slave know this to be the case. Thus, surprisingly, the ruler forgave the debt! Our happiness as listeners immediately tempers when we learn that this same slave, the recipient of great mercy and release of obligation to a debt, has a fellow slave who owes him a small amount. Let us say $100. The same slave is vicious in grabbing him by the throat, demanding that he repay what he owes. His fellow slave also asks him for patience in order to repay the small debt. Yet, the same slave who received such mercy from his master refused to offer it to his fellow slave. In fact, he put the slave in prison, a common practice in the ancient world. For us listeners, the failure to imitate the act of forgiveness he had received is striking. If the story stopped here, we would highlight the contrast between the ruler and the first slave. One is willing to forgive a staggering obligation, the other refuses to cancel a paltry sum. The parable invites the listener to choose the appropriate mode of behavior. However, the parable does not stop here. The parable introduces us to another set of characters. They are the friends of the second slave. Let us think of these friends as providing a dramatic way of bringing us as listeners into the story. We are angry with the first slave. We wanted the first slave to respond to the paltry debt owed to him in a way that imitated the mercy showed to him by the ruler. We feel sorry for the second slave. We cannot believe what the first slave has done and we want something done to him to teach him a lesson in forgiveness. “What goes round comes back around” is a familiar saying to most of us. You sow what you reap. You get what you deserve – even punishment. Such sayings that involve a form of karma in life satisfies the desire for justice in life. It occurs enough times in the actual world to offer some excuse for such a saying. Though it is sometimes tough, at least it is what is deserved, earned. These friends of the second slave go to the ruler and report what the first slave had done, something we as listeners want done as well. The ruler summons the first slave, reminds him of the forgiveness of the debt he extended to him after he pleaded for mercy, and yet, he refused to extend mercy to his fellow slave. The ruler is now angry. Thus, he does not just put the slave into prison, but also has him tortured until he pays his debt. The ruler has shown himself not to be the nice person he momentarily appeared to be. We also might remember that this ruler was ready to sell the man and his family to recover part of his debt. He may not be a nice man at all. As listeners, we might be a little hesitant about the torture, but the parable initially satisfies our sense of justice. The first slave got what he deserved. Yet, let us now step back as readers of the Gospel of Matthew. The ruler fails to forgive the first slave when given a second opportunity to forgive. He withdraws his initial act of mercy and forgiveness. Thus, the ruler in the parable creates a problem, for obviously, he had a limit on the extension of forgiveness, which reverts to the question raised by Peter in 18:21-22. The ruler illustrates what happens if we put a limit on forgiveness. In the world of the parable, the ruler has forgiven once and then withdraws his forgiveness. We as listeners have some confusion. How are we to respond? Are we to keep showing forgiveness? Are we to be like the ruler and have a limit on forgiveness? The parable ends with the warning that the Father of Jesus will deal with us in similar fashion if we do not forgive our brothers and sisters. God responds toward people in the ways they demonstrate by their actions that they wish to be treated. Those who demand justice or limited forgiveness (as Peter suggested to Jesus) should expect God to do the same. Those who, instead, open themselves to moving fully into the realm of forgiveness will find God is already there forgiving them and helping them find forgiveness in their hearts for others. Forgiveness of another person is a choice. The parable invites us to consider carefully the choice we make. Do we really want a world in which the demand for justice is primary? Alternatively, do we really want the world of the rule of God that will make forgiveness and mercy primary?
It seems obvious that part of the point is that since God has cancelled the debt that no human being could repay, we ought to forgive any debt a human being owes to us.[8] The community lives based upon the inconceivably great mercy and grace of God. Since Matthew has framed the context to refer to church members, we can say the point is that within the church, we need to forgive. The moral of the story contains the warning that God will not forgive you if you do not forgive your fellow follower of Jesus or even your fellow human being. Thus, the parable explains an aspect of the rule of God. You as a follower of Jesus have received divine forgiveness, so part of the summons Jesus offers to enter the rule of God now is the readiness to forgive others.[9] We should also note that mercy has a close relationship to the goodness of God, and is in fact an expression of that goodness.[10] Yet, the parable makes such fine points in an ambiguous way. It illustrates that limiting forgiveness would not work. In particular, the ruler illustrates the effects of the limit on forgiveness that Peter proposed. If we arbitrarily deliver either justice or mercy, chaos is the result.[11] The not so hidden point that Jesus and Matthew invite us to consider is that the rule of God has its basis in mercy and forgiveness rather than a strict demand for justice.
Allow me to add that Jesus is the notable example of forgiveness. The unjust trial, the unjust labeling of him as a blasphemer of God and a potentially violent rebel, the abandonment by his closest friends in his time of need, and the torture that would end with the cross, were plenty of reason to end his life on a note of revenge and hatred. Yet, as the risen Lord taught us, he forgave his friends, and he forgave the religious leaders, and forgave the sin of humanity that placed him there, on that cross. The cross is a symbol of the extent of human sin, but it has become for those who believe the symbol of the lengths to which love and forgiveness must go.
[1] Mohandas Gandhi
[2] Amazing Grace (New York: Riverhead, 1998), 367.
[3] --Timothy Merrill, Learning to Fall: A Guide for the Spiritually Clumsy, timothymerrill.net. 106ff. Kindle loc. 2246ff.
[4] Bettencourt, Megan Feldman. "The science of forgiveness: 'When you don't forgive you release all the chemicals of the stress response.'" Salon, salon.com. August 23, 2015.
[5]
[6] Bernard Brandon Scott (Hear Then the Parable, 277-280)
[7] I will grant that the parable suggests that if you act like the unforgiving servant, then God will act like the king who withholds forgiveness. Certainly, this would explain why Peter would not want to be unending in his forgiveness of others. In terms of context, one might see this parable as contradicting 18:21-22. Thus, to illustrate the point to Peter that no restraints should be set on forgiveness because of repeated need for it, Jesus relates a parable that culminates in forgiveness offered once but ultimately withdrawn. It hardly seems the most logically consistent pairing when you stop to think about it. For Matthew, the secular ruler is God, the first and second slaves are members of the Christian community. The point is that the community lives based upon the inconceivably great mercy and grace of God. The moral is that God will not forgive you if you do not forgive your fellow human beings. However, as not a few commentators have noted, this allegorizing of the roles within the parable creates the problem of why God should demand more of us (limitless forgiveness) than of the divine self — for the king not only does not forgive the servant even a second time but also withdraws forgiveness already given. Therefore, we might be better to think of the parable as illustrating that limiting forgiveness would not work. Either the system must be grounded in justice with everyone paying what they owe, or it must be grounded in forgiveness. If either justice or forgiveness appears to be arbitrarily meted out, then chaos will be the result. The hidden point is that the rule of God has its basis in mercy and forgiveness rather than a strict demand for justice. Maybe the evangelist does not want the king allegorized as God. Maybe the king, instead, illustrates the effects of what Peter proposed.
[8] Schnackenberg
[9]
[10]
[11] Bernard Brandon Scott (Hear Then the Parable, 277-280)
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