Forgiveness

James Tissot (Nantes, France, 1836–1902, Chenecey–Buillon, France). The Exhortation to the Apostles (Recommandation aux apôtres), 1886–1896. Opaque watercolor over graphite on gray wove paper, Image: 6 1/2 x 8 3/4 in. (16.5 x 22.2 cm). Brooklyn Museum, Purchased by public subscription, 00.159.129, Click image to link to source.

Genesis 45:3-11, 15; Luke 6:27-38

Do not judge, and you will not be judged; do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven . . . . –Luke 6:37

This week’s gospel lesson records part of Jesus’ sermon commonly known as the “Sermon on the Plain.” As I mentioned this past Sunday, it has many similarities to a sermon recorded in Matthew that we know as the “Sermon the Mount.”  It’s possible that Luke and Matthew recorded the same sermon from their different perspectives and retold it for different audiences. It’s just as possible that Jesus preached the same themes many times, and that Luke and Matthew are recording collective memories of multiple sermons. Regardless, it’s clear that the voice heard in each sermon belongs uniquely to Jesus. The message he preached was nuanced for each audience, but at its core proclaimed the ethic at the heart of God’s new kingdom.

Jesus’ prescription for living is challenging to hear and nearly impossible to embody. As many others before me have pointed out, most of us can boldly follow Jesus down the path he leads, part of the way. But then the path becomes more difficult, and our confidence turns to concern.  There is what Barbara Lundblad calls the “reasonable” beginning part of the path, and the “radical” later part of the path.[1] 

The reasonable part, the part that echoes the philosophies of many great thinkers in nearly all major world religions, is what we often describe with the label “The Golden Rule”: “Do to others as you would have them do to you.” Similarly, the Greek philosopher Thales advised “Avoid doing what you would blame others for doing.” Confucius said, “What you do not wish for yourself, do not do to others.”

One of our local Rotary Clubs, of which I was a member for ten years, regularly recites a four-way test. Standing at attention, its members say, “Is it the truth?” “Is it fair to all concerned?” “Will it build goodwill and better friendships?” “Will it be beneficial to all concerned?” Most Rotarians probably would have no objection to adding the Golden Rule: “Do to others as you would have them do to you.”  It seems like a perfectly reasonable way to live and work in community.

The problem is that this thought appears as part of a larger context in which Jesus preached some rather radical ideas. “Lend, expecting nothing in return.” There are several bankers in the Rotary Club; this single five-word prescription would destroy their business model. From the perspective of a business professional, Jesus’ message seems too radical for a capitalist economy. “If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also …. If anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again.” 

From the perspective of someone whose work keeps the public safe, turning your other cheek an attacker who has hit you once, or giving your goods to one who has already stolen from you, may seem dangerously misguided.

Bible scholars and theologians have tried various approaches to help us understand and appreciate Jesus’ radical teaching.  Reinhold Niebuhr is one of the theologians we will encounter in the third week of this year’s Lenten study.  He wrote a famous book appreciated by many political figures, entitled Moral Man, Immoral Society.  Niebuhr contended that Jesus’ words make sense in the realm of individual ethics. But they’re difficult to apply to group ethics.  Diplomats are charged to work for the interests of their nation. The local banker might forgive a personal debt and be a hero; but arbitrary forgiveness of a debt owed to the bank itself would make him or her a villain.

Barbara Lundblad is a semi-retired Lutheran preacher who has thought deeply about the power dynamics between oppressors and the oppressed. From her perspective, “Jesus is not telling people to remain victims, but to find new ways of resisting evil …. This is the ethic that moved Martin Luther King, Jr., to kneel down with many brothers and sisters before water hoses and snarling police dogs. Many people thought he was crazy…. But this was something (the oppressors) hadn’t seen before … victims who refused to fight back with violence … and reshaped the battle completely.”[2]

Explanations like those of Niebuhr and Lundblad help me understand some nuances, but they don’t make Jesus’ radical ethic any easier to practice. 

Jesus’ call to practice forgiveness seems especially difficult. Sometimes we’re harmed in ways that seem despicably evil. Sometimes we’re not in the right position to extend forgiveness. An ethicist would tell us that forgiveness can’t be legitimately granted without the participation of those who have been harmed. I can’t really forgive you for harm you did to others, but not me.  And when I do hear stories of those harmed who extend forgiveness, perhaps because of a perpetrator’s contrition, or desire to grow morally and act ethically, I’m amazed by their ability to hear Jesus’ message and follow his example.

There’s a piece in my files from an interview with Nelson Mandela, former President of South Africa, from the late 1990s. Mandela was saying how repugnant it first seemed to sit down and talk with the white Afrikaners who made their lives so miserable. But he came to realize, in his words, “Without these enemies of ours, we can never bring about a peaceful transformation of this country …. The reason why the world has opened its arms to South Africa is because we were able to sit down with our enemies and say let us stop slaughtering one another.”[3] Out of the work of this time came many amazing acts of forgiveness.

If Nelson Mandela could feel that way, after all he had been through, imagine what might happen, if each of us found ways to practice Jesus’ radical ethic.  Practicing forgiveness could end cycles of revenge. It could heal old wounds, particularly the wounds we carry around with us in our hearts.

Such forgiveness wouldn’t necessarily be easy; in fact, it might be very difficult to do. Yet, we know that such things are possible through Christ who strengthens us.  

I’ve been reading and sharing the prayers of Kate Bowler, whose work I find both challenging and comforting. One prayer is crafted toward forgiveness, in times when loving your enemy is the last thing you want to do.  First, she draws the reader to words of Dr. King, “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only Light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only Love can do that.” 

Then she prays, “Blessed are we who recognize that the divide is deep and the enmity strong. We are attached now to our hostilities …. Blessed are we who ask you, God: Help us to be faithful to your call to love our enemies, for your name’s sake and for ours too. Yet we ask, How is that possible? We desire no false peace, no imitation grace. Where do we begin? How do we recover civility? Build unity? Work together and yet hold on to our integrity? Blessed are we who say, “Oh God, please do for us what we cannot do for ourselves.”[4] 

Focus on one enemy.  Now, pray for that enemy. Plan to do some small good, today.  Now, let it go.

Christ Jesus, bless us as we seek to live according to your word.

NOTES

[1] Barbara Lundblad suggests this distinction in her sermon “Simple, Yet Not So Simple,” 18 Feb. 2001, http://day1.org/642-simple_yet_not_so_simple, accessed 15 Feb. 2019.

[2] Barbara Lundblad, “Simple, Yet Not So Simple,” 18 Feb. 2001, http://day1.org/642-simple_yet_not_so_simple, accessed 15 Feb. 2019.

[3] Nelson Mandela, quoted in Donald W. Shriver’s “Bridging the Abyss of Revenge,” Christian Century, 1 December 1999, p. 1170.

[4] Kate Bowler and Jessica Richie, The Lives We Actually Have, New York: Convergent Books, 2023, pp. 164-165.

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