“The servant therefore fell down before him saying, ‘Master, have patience with me, and I will pay you all.’ Then the master of that servant was moved with compassion, released him, and forgave him the debt.”
Glory to Jesus Christ! Glory forever!
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
What does it mean to forgive, brethren? What does it mean to forgive as God forgives? (pause). In a sense, the entire biblical narrative is a manual in forgiveness. It is the story of man’s creation, his transgression, God’s compassion and forgiveness, and man’s restoration. As much as Orthodox theology tends to steer away from rigid, systematic explanations of salvation in legalistic or pecuniary terms (think, “salvation as a debt paid to God the Father by God the Son on behalf of humankind”), we must admit that the metaphor is there in Scripture. The pecuniary analogy exists, and in today’s Gospel Reading, it can be no more explicit.
“Therefore, the kingdom of heaven is like a certain king who wanted to settle accounts with his servants. And when he had begun to settle accounts, one was brought to him who owed him ten thousand talents. But as he was not able to pay, his master commanded that he be sold, with his wife and children and all that he had, and that payment be made. The servant therefore fell down before him, saying, ‘Master, have patience with me, and I will pay you all.’ Then the master of that servant was moved with compassion, released him, and forgave him the debt” (Matt 18:23-27).
We can say confidently, from the reading, that forgiveness entails a cancellation of debt. Indeed, the parable begins “the kingdom of heaven is like… .” So, to forgive like God is to forgive like the master of the parable. To forgive is to release another from a degree of indebtedness.
What is very important to note, though, brethren, is the distinction made apparent by the parable between a forgiveness of debt and a payment of debt on behalf of another. The former is what actually transpires in the parable, not the latter. The master does not find another to pay this servant’s debt—this servant who owed ten thousand talents (a truly phenomenal sum, ranging anywhere from $600 million to $3 trillion, depending on the conversion rate applied). The master does not find another to pay this servant’s debt… because there is no other who could pay the debt! That’s the point of the astronomical sum! The servant doesn’t have the money. The master doesn’t have the money! Nobody has this sum of money! It is an asset on the master’s balance sheet, likely at interest, that will in time be able to purchase him… a small country, a large country, perhaps, the moon?!
My point is this: the debt owed by the servant in today’s parable is inconceivably large. Therefore, the compassion—the forgiveness—with which the debt is settled must be equally inconceivable, equally phenomenal, equally astronomical. The forgiveness which defines the ethics of the kingdom of God is an incomprehensible forgiveness. It goes beyond the economical. It goes beyond the responsible. The forgiveness which defines the Kingdom of God is the forgiveness of God.
“Bless the Lord, O my soul,
And all that is within me,
Bless his holy name.
Bless the Lord, O my soul,
And forget not all his benefits,
Who forgives all your iniquity,
Who heals all your diseases… .
For as high as the heavens are above the earth,
So great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him;
As far as the east is from the west,
So far does he remove our transgressions from us (Ps 103 [102]: 1-3, 11-12, italics mine).
We hear a portion of this Psalm every Liturgy during the First Antiphon. I am sure you have also read it in your times of private prayer and devotion. Have you ever taken a moment to reflect upon the—frankly—preposterous notion? “As high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his steadfast love… . As far as the east is from the west, so far does he remove our transgressions from us” (vv. 11-12). What does that even mean? How far is the divide between heaven and earth? How far is the divide between two relative, ordinal directions? It’s nonsensical. Rather, it’s inexpressible, ineffable. The love of God for us is incomprehensible. His willingness to separate the man—the person created in his image whom he loves—from his transgressions is inexplicable.
What does it mean to forgive, brethren? What does it mean to forgive as God forgives? The contemporary psychologist will tell us that forgiveness is one thing; forgetfulness is another thing. “Forgiveness [is]… a conscious, deliberate decision to release feelings of resentment or vengeance toward a person or group who has harmed you, regardless of whether they actually deserve your forgiveness” (as one 3-second Google search relates). That sounds like a pretty good, working, modern definition. Is it the definition so characterized by the behavior of the master in today’s parable? Contemporary psychology says, “Forgive, but don’t forget.” Contemporary psychology says, “Forgive, but don’t be so trusting next time.” Contemporary psychology says, “Forgive, but modify your behavior; modify your interactions with the offender.” Contemporary psychology will always advise us to forgive, but with a caveat: forgive for your own spiritual and psychological benefit. Forgive for you.
The biblical principle of forgiveness is different. And it is God who is the principal archetype of forgiveness. God does not forgive for his own benefit. He can’t. Forgiveness of sinners does not benefit God. But God forgives… because he loves us. God forgives because he cares for us. God forgives in an extraordinary way because he loves us in an extraordinary way.
“When they came to the place called Golgotha, they crucified him there, along with the criminals—one on his right, the other on his left. [And] Jesus said, ‘Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing’” (Luke 23:33-34).
Hanging from the cross! Bruised, tortured, beaten, berated, scorned, neglected, hated! The Son of God prays, “Father, forgive them.” How does this forgiveness benefit Christ? It does not. The forgiveness of God is synonymous with his love. It is not economical. It is no respecter of persons. It is not even, as some theologians would have us to believe, in response to repentance. Were the Jews crucifying Christ simultaneously seeking his forgiveness? Of course not! And yet Jesus prays, “Father, forgive them.”
We must always remember, brethren, that the most fundamental, the most primary symbol which characterizes our relationship to God—beyond Creator and creation; even beyond the analogy of servant and master in today’s parable—is that of Father and child. “Our Father who art in heaven… forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.” A father forgives instinctually. A true father—a true, godly father—forgives without regard for his child’s affection, his child’s sincerity, his child’s motivations. A father forgives for benefit of the child, not for his own benefit. A father forgives as naturally as he breathes, as naturally as he loves.
Every day my children disobey me. Every day my children disappoint me. Every day my children exhibit some degree of naughtiness, selfishness, carelessness. Does this somehow detract from my love for them? Does this somehow inhibit my ability to forgive them? Does this cause me, as some modern psychologists may advise, to rethink or renegotiate my interactions with them, to be “more cautious, more reserved” with them? Absolutely not! Every day my children do me some wrong, some offense; and every night I lay them down to bed, and kiss them, and tell them how much I love them, that I’m proud of them, and that they make my life wonderful. Every night I tell them, “You’re a good son; you’re a good daughter. You’re my son; you’re my daughter.” God loves and forgives us not as a prison guard, not as a loan officer… but as a father.
In our interactions with one another, brethren, we are called to exhibit this same degree of forgiveness: a stupid, irrational, foolish, unfavorable, disadvantageous… but familial forgiveness; for the sake of love. We will offend one another, brethren. We will fail one another. We will harm one another. We will belittle one another. We will resent one another. It’s not good. We need, by the grace of God, to minimize these offenses. But they will happen. And at the beginning of every Great and Holy Lent, we will be asked to prostrate in front of one another and beg forgiveness. We will be asked to hug and to kiss and to whisper to one another, “God forgives, and I forgive.”
“Then came Peter to him, and said, ‘Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? Seven times?’ [And] Jesus said to him, ‘I say not to you, until seven times: but, until seventy times seven” (Matt 18:21-22).
That is the degree of forgiveness which our Lord has instituted and exhibited: a forgiveness beyond account, beyond enumeration. It is to that same degree that we are called and expected to love and to forgive one another.
“For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you, but if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses” (Matt 6:14-15).
Through the prayers of our holy fathers, O Lord Jesus Christ, our God, have mercy on us and save us. Amen.
Glory to Jesus Christ! Glory forever!