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Last Tuesday we had a memorial Evensong for the late Countess Mountbatten of Burma. Like many present, I was struck by the homily that was given by the director of the Mountbatten Institute based here in New York, an institute that fosters international exchange and mutual understanding across different cultures. In the homily, Paul Beresford-Hill, reminded us of the tragedy that was at the heart of Lady Patricia’s life when, in 1979, her father, the great Louis Mountbatten (who was Supreme Allied Commander during the Second World War) at nearly 80 years old, and several members of his family, were enjoining a quiet fishing expedition off the coast of Ireland. The IRA had planted a bomb which blew up the boat. Lady Patricia’s father, mother in law, one of her twin sons and a family friend were killed and she and her husband hovered between life and death for several weeks. At the heart of Paul’s homily was one word – ‘forgiveness’. It struck a chord in many of us; I was walking down Madison Avenue two days later and someone stopped me in the street – I did not know him – but I was completely taken aback when he suddenly started talking to me about…forgiveness. He had attended the service here and was still thinking about it.
Peter came and said to Jesus, “Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?”
Poor old Peter! He often got things wrong but, here, he was really trying to impress the Lord by showing that he had been listening and reflecting. Forgiving someone who has hurt you not once, not twice, but three times is pretty amazing and contrary to the way that most people behave; so, when Peter says seven times, I like to think that the other disciples all raised their eyebrows! I also like to think that Jesus loved Peter and this insight – this little seed of hope – and then, as was his way with so many people, took him deeper into that understanding: ‘Jesus said to him, “Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times.”’
Throughout history there have been amazing examples of heroic forgiveness. Only two years ago, following the senseless shooting of the pastor and members of Mother Emmanuel Church, in Charleston, several of the families who lost loved ones spoke out publically at the bond hearing of the shooter saying that they forgave him.
Forgiveness is at the heart of the Christian life but that does not mean it is easy to forgive. Some would suggest that Christian forgiveness is a passive acceptance of what cannot be changed; a ‘coming to terms’ with the awfulness that has confronted us. But forgiveness is a powerful, challenging and healing gift; on the cross, Jesus sanctified forgiveness and made it a kind of sacrament – “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” he changed forgiveness from passive resistance to active engagement. On the cross, Jesus showed the power of forgiveness by making it a sign of reconciliation.
When I was young I often heard the phrase “I might forgive, but I will not forget.” Sadly, when I experienced those words it was as if forgiveness was qualified – not letting go of the hurt and ensuring that the perpetrator would always have to remember what they had done. Now, forgiveness may not take away the memories or even temper the hurt, but true forgiveness – the kind of forgiveness that Jesus talks about – challenges us to forgive and to begin the process of forgetting.
It is easy to reflect on those big examples of forgiveness in history or in the news but forgiveness is also closer to home; it is needed in our close relationships over even the smallest of things; it is needed in our workplaces and our families; it is needed in communities and, most especially, should be a hallmark of the church. In our epistle today, Paul has strong words for those who judged one another over differences of practice: “Why do you pass judgment on your brother or sister? Or you, why do you despise your brother or sister? For we will all stand before the judgment seat of God.” (Romans 14:10)
The Church is often seen as hypocritical – preaching love and forgiveness but harboring faction and division. Over many years, the Anglican Communion has been racked with controversy and the awfulness (in my opinion) in the Episcopal Church of some of that being played out in the courtroom. I take heart in some words of our Rector Emeritus, Father Andrew Mead, who writing some years ago to the parish, at a time of controversy in the Episcopal Church, said this:
“In times like this it is important that, whatever our convictions, we show love and respect for each other as Christians of good will who try to act in good faith. Saint Thomas has people of good faith all over the spectrum. Our parish’s tradition of being both conservative and broadminded can serve us well in such times. Jesus prayed that his followers be one, as he and the father are one, so that the world may believe that the Father sent him.” [1]
In the Gospel reading, Jesus helps Peter understand how far he still had to go to truly understand forgiveness by giving his disciples a parable that showed how important it is to allow our own experiences of being forgiven to release others in a similar way. I have mentioned before that the great spiritual writer, Henri Nouwen, used to say that it is significant that the two phrases about forgiveness in the Lord’s Prayer come in the order that they do: “Forgive us our trespasses,” comes before “Forgive those who trespass against us.” As the body of Christ, we need to start with ourselves before we look to others – a person who has truly experienced forgiveness themselves will always find it easier to forgive others; in turning to Jesus first, we can then turn to our brothers and sisters and see the Lord’s face in theirs.
The rabbi asked his students: “How can we determine the hour of dawn, when the night ends and the day begins?”
One of the rabbi’s students suggested, “When from a distance you can distinguish between a dog and a sheep.”
‘”No,” was the answer of the rabbi.
“Is it when you can distinguish between a fig tree and a grapevine?” asked a second student.
“No,” the rabbi said.
“Then, please tell us the answer,” said the students.
The wise teacher said, “It is when you can look into the face of another human being and you have enough light in you to recognize your brother or your sister. Until then it is night, and darkness is still within us.” [2]
Such is the Christian journey, my friends. Don’t think it is easy; Jesus has told us that it is hard; we will be accused of hypocrisy and double standards. But we need to stand firm, stand together despite our differences and our hurts and prove to the world around us that we are trying to be a community that has forgiveness at its heart and flowing from the cross of Jesus.
Let me end with some words of a former rector, the late Father John Andrew, preaching on Ash Wednesday:
“You are here today for a short time. You have the chance to go back onto Fifth Avenue a different person. A new person. With a new heart. Think as you sit here of who it is who has hurt you, injured you, caused you grief. Then think (if you can imagine the enormity of it) of the damage you have done to God’s love, and the wounds your unwillingness to forgive has caused in Christ’s sacred heart of love. Know that you cannot leave here forgiven unless you make an act of forgiveness now. Now. If you’ve made it you can claim Christ’s forgiveness for yourself, because you have obeyed the Scripture: ‘Rend your heart and not your garments and return to the Lord your God.’” [3]
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[1] From the 2004 Saint Thomas Yearbook
[2] Old Hasidic tale. (See: “Spiritual Direction” – Henri Nouwen, page 109)
[3] From “My Heart is Ready,” page 62.