"God’s Generosity of Forgiveness" September 14, 2008 Pentecost 18 Lectionary 24

(First, read the texts for this sermon: Genesis 50:15-21; Romans 14:1-12; Matthew 18:21-35)

Nearly every Sunday morning, we begin worship by using the order for Confession and Forgiveness. To prevent it from becoming routine and rote, after the pastor says, “Let us confess our sin in the presence of God and of one another,” a period of silence is called for; and there must be a goodly period of silence, so that we will examine ourselves honestly. (One time, when Luther was asked what a person should think about during such a silence, he said something like: “Begin with the First Commandment. You won’t have to work yourself very far down the list!”)

Well, it’s the order for Confession and Forgiveness. So, why does God forgive you and me? Is it because of anything you and I do? No! Remember the words we said a few minutes ago: “We confess that we are captive to sin and cannot free ourselves.”

So why does God forgive us? God forgives us because God loves us. God loves us even when, because of how we act, God does not like us. God’s forgiveness is a pure act of grace. God’s forgiveness is rooted in what has been done, in Jesus the Christ. Remember the words you heard me speak a few minutes ago: “In the mercy of almighty God, Jesus Christ was given to die for us, and for his sake God forgives us all our sins.”

So, if we are awash in God’s forgiveness, and if the life of Christian discipleship is to be a joyous response to this unmerited, unfathomable grace, where does judgmentalism come from? Where does it come from: the impulse to be critical, to point out where another person is wrong, and also to beat yourself over the head whenever you make a mistake? According to all three of our readings this morning, judgmentalism results from poverty: the poverty of heart and spirit. How sad it is to be impoverished in this way!

What about the opposite of judgmentalism: forgiveness? Where does forgiveness come from? Forgiveness arises from what God has done for us, in Jesus the Christ, and from our generous hearts that result! What joy there is in generous forgiveness! What a joyous practice of the faith.

All three passages of Scripture appointed for this day speak to this.

The first reading is from the very end of Genesis, at the end of the long story of Joseph and his brothers and father. You may know the story: how Joseph was simply insufferable as a young boy. His superiority complex was irritating in the extreme. (Remember how Jacob, the boys’ father, loved Joseph best? Remember that fancy-dancy, multi-colored robe Jacob gave to Joseph, which Joseph wore every chance he got, while his brothers slouched around in their drab garments? The show off!) Joseph was the kind of sibling who made his brothers debate whether the best course of action was to simply kill him, or, instead, to throw him into a pit and then to sell him to slave traders headed to Egypt (which is what they did).

Do you remember the rest of the story? Joseph’s rise to power is as improbable and even more dramatic than Sarah Palin’s … and Barack Obama’s. Joseph (a Hebrew!) becomes the second most powerful person in Egypt; second only to the Pharaoh himself. So, with supreme power over peoples’ lives, it turns out that Joseph’s brothers come to him years later, starving, begging for food! What should he do? (What would you do? They sold you into slavery!)

Here’s what Joseph does: he forgives his brothers. The forgiveness arises from Joseph’s knowledge that God has been so generous to him over the years, so rich in blessings. Arising out of that generosity is forgiveness.

The same point comes through the verses from Paul’s letter to the Romans that we read this morning. The setting is as different as could be from the story of Joseph. Paul is writing to an ancient Christian congregation, and it might make you shake your head and think to yourself, “Woo boy! The things people in congregations can judge each other about, and condemn each other about, and fight about!”

Among the Roman congregation, one church fight is over various food practices among the members of the congregation. Is it most pleasing to God to be a vegetarian? Is it permissible to eat meat? (Of course, all of this is in the context of centuries of Jewish teaching about what types of food are clean and unclean.) Another church fight is over proper observance of the sabbath. How should the sabbath be observed, to best make the day a holy one, dedicated to the Lord?

The Christian life is high-demand. It’s not true, for a follower of Jesus, that anything goes. There is right and wrong. There is law, and not only gospel. The Commandment about sabbath observance is fundamental to the practice of the faith. The ethics of what we eat are important.

But here’s the trap: when a person takes right and wrong seriously, it is so easy to become judgmental! It is so easy to become judgmental, rather than invitational, as we encourage each other into deeper practice of the Christian life.

That’s what is happening among the Romans. And so Paul makes this point: that the important thing about our behavior is to act “in honor of the Lord.” “Why do you pass judgment on your brother or sister?” Paul asks.

There is judgment! That’s the consistent witness of Scripture. But whose job is it to judge? That’s is up to God. In the first reading, Joseph says to his brothers, “Am I in the place of God?” In Romans, Paul writes, “For we will all stand before the judgment seat of God….[E]ach of us will be accountable to God.”

So, what does God get judgmental about? (That becomes an important question, doesn’t it?) In this week’s shocking twist in Scripture, in the reading from Matthew, we find that God becomes angry when we do not love each other enough, even when we don’t like each other.

In other words, God becomes judgmental towards us when we are judgmental towards each other! Sit with that one for a moment.

The story from Matthew is full of great comic exaggeration, to emphasize God’s generosity of forgiveness. It begins with a question from good old Peter: "Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?" Jesus said to him, "Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times." This, of course, is not a teaching to be forgiving 77 times, and then to lower the boom on the 78th offense! “Seventy-seven” (or, in other translations,“ seven times seventy”) is a doubling of the use of a perfect number. The meaning is that forgiveness is to be unlimited and uncalculated, ungrudging, free and generous.

Christians are called to forgive as generously as the king does, in the parable that follows in Matthew. (The king, of course, represents God.) Look at the comedy here.

"For this reason the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his slaves. When he began the reckoning, one who owed him ten thousand talents was brought to him; 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. So the slave fell on his knees before him, saying, 'Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything.'”

“Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything?” Let’s see, the man’s debt of 10,000 talents, if taken literally equals 50 million denari, give or take a few thousand. Remember, a working man’s wage was a single denarius per day. Working six days a week for 50 years, no time off, the man would earn not even 16,000 denari. Let’s see, 50 million minus 16,000 leaves …

Do you see the exaggeration here? The story is set up so that the debt is beyond the farthest reaches of comprehensibility or possibility! (Which exactly describes our debt to God.) When, in the story, the king releases the slave and forgives him the debt, the point is being made: God’s generosity of forgiveness is unlimited, beyond any human comprehension, shattering any of our concepts of what is fair, or just, or right. And that is the way members of the Christian community are to treat each other.

After exaggeration comes irony in the parable. God becomes angry and judgmental only when you and I are judgmental! That’s the twist as the story proceeds, with the forgiven slave unwilling to forgive another person a debt that is not insignificant, but which pales in comparison to what he owed.

Calculation based on self-interest, anger and judgmentalism: there is no place for these in the Christian life. (Talk about a radical way of life!)

Generous, free, open forgiveness, in response to God’s unfathomable grace: what joy there is, in this radical life!

In the name of God, who is Father and Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Pastor Andy Ballentine
St. Stephen Lutheran Church
Williamsburg, Virginia