Scripture Matthew 18:15-22
If your brother or sister sins against you, go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone. If you are listened to, you have regained that one. But if you are not listened to, take one or two others along with you, so that every word may be confirmed by the evidence of two or three witnesses. If that person refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church, and if the offender refuses to listen even to the church, let such a one be to you as a gentile and a tax collector. Truly I tell you, whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven. Again, truly I tell you, if two of you agree on earth about anything you ask, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven. For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.”
Then Peter came and said to him, “Lord, if my brother or sister 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.
Sermon “Teach me…”
And now, for Jesus’ reminder that faith communities are made up of human beings, and we don’t always get it right. This morning finds Jesus talking with his disciples, and Peter in particular, about conflict and forgiveness.
Yesterday morning I came across a blogpost by the Rev. Jan Edmiston, titled, “What’s considered okay in your congregation? And by ‘okay,’ I mean, acceptable.” I’m going to read out some of the behaviors Dr. Edmiston has come across, both as a pastor and as a Lead Presbyter. I’m also going to include a couple of behaviors I’ve observed in my years involved in church life.
Please note: By reading this abbreviated list, I am in no way insinuating anything about anyone’s behavior here at UPC. If anything, I’m struck by what a healthy congregation we enjoy. Nevertheless, for educational purposes, here goes. Buckle your seat belts.
§ Is it okay to mock someone behind their back?
§ Is it okay to send anonymous letters to church members?
§ Is it okay to use financial pledges as weapons?
§ Is it okay to have secret meetings to strategize against something or someone?
§ Is it okay to yell “shut up” in a meeting?
§ Is it okay for a church member to physically attack another church member?
§ Is it okay to yell at the pastor and storm out during worship?
§ Is it okay for a pastor to curse out a staff member or church member?
§ Is it okay to make racist comments in meetings?
§ Is it okay to gossip?[i]
In case you’re wondering, the answer to each of these is “No, it’s not okay.” As one person in the comments noted, we humans are frail, leaky vessels.[ii] And sometimes, we splash our brokenness all over others.
Jesus offers his disciples a pattern of approach to conflict, a plan for moving from to resolution. His approach is beautifully illustrated by the image on the cover of your bulletins and on the screen, created by the Rev. Lauren Wright Pittman.
This is an image of a mandala. The word “mandala” is Sanskrit for “circle,” and it represents wholeness. There are different kinds of mandalas—I believe this would be called a “teaching” mandala, since it represents a pattern for conflict resolution. But all mandalas are symbols of trying to get at things from a higher, more spiritual level, trying to bring back to wholeness. They show us pour place in the order of things.
In the center, you can a person, isolated. The person’s arms are crossed—let’s say, not in a nice pretzel-prayer shape, but more in a “I don’t care what you say, I know I’m right” kind of a shape. This person, at the moment, is separate from the community, due to a conflict that they have initiated.
In the first ring immediately surrounding the person, you can see a symbol of the first approach Jesus recommends: going to that person, speaking to them, one-on-one. This is important—we give the person we are in conflict with the dignity of a one-on-one conversation, rather than bringing up the issue in front of others. So what you see in that first ring is a circle made of pairs of people shaking hands—trying to work it out, to understand one another, to get to a better place.
The next ring on the mandala shows what happens if the conflict is not resolved in that first move. Now, the isolated person is approached by two or more members of the community; you can identify the isolated person by their crossed arms. The other two look as though they are trying to reason with them.
This is a tricky moment. We don’t want anyone to feel ganged-up upon—that would be a surefire way to hobble this process. But we do want the person to know we’re taking this seriously. Adding another person to the conversation reminds us all that this conflict has larger ramifications than those between the initial two in conflict. We are members of a community. Strife can be contagious, and we’re trying to keep it contained, yes, but ideally, to help it come to a healthy resolution.
The next ring on the mandala is a surprise: flowers! Specifically, hyacinths, which represent sorrow, regret, and forgiveness. (As an aside: Hyacinths are one of the blossoms closely associated with Holy Week and Easter. My mother taught me that. Now I know why.) Rev. Pittman writes about this ring,
“the hyacinths…stretch, bloom, and grow, bringing beauty into the now open arms of
the people in the last ring of the mandala, who are embraced and woven into the community. The person from the center goes from being alone and closed-off to embraced and open.”[iii]
And now, we can see what the outer ring shows: a ring of people alternating between those holding out their arms in a hands-open gesture, alternating with people who have their arms around those on either side of them. The person holding their arms out in front of them is the formerly isolated one. The ones whose arms are stretched out in embrace are the community with which that person is, once again, one.
I’ve been reading and hearing a lot lately about holding things with open hands. It suggests an approach to life, to relationships, friendships, work, leadership—everything, really—in which we are open. We are listening. We don’t assume we have all the answers. We know there’s strength and wisdom in learning from one another. For those of you who will be walking the labyrinth during Holy Week, holding out our hands like this is a traditional posture for walking: we are seeking to be open to what the Spirit might want us to know.
I only have a little experience of Jesus’ approach to conflict, and it’s the very first item in his approach: talking with someone one-on-one. To me, that truly is the best way to start—directly, not through intermediaries, but face to face with the one who you believe has done the harm. This means that we don’t stew about things and let our anger or hurt grow. This means that we have some basic respect the person with whom we want to mend fences. This means that we are trying to come to this with open hands. I believe there is wisdom in it, deep, wisdom.
Our passage shifts, then, because Peter asks Jesus a question. How many times should I forgive someone? This is a wonderful moment for a lot of reasons. Remember:
Last week, Peter experienced a comeuppance from Jesus. Jesus had been telling his disciples that his journey was taking him to the cross, and Peter recoiled, and, in a way, rebelled, gave Jesus a hard “NO.” Jesus spoke to him harshly, but plainly, and went on to explain that this was his path, and if anyone wanted to be his follower, they needed to understand it would be their path, too.
In our passage today, Peter is eager to learn. I think we might say that the experience we read about last week taught him that he needed to be willing to learn, that Jesus had much to teach him. So now, Peter is saying: Teach me, Lord.
How many times should I forgive? As many as seven?
That is a reasonable number for Peter to suggest. Seven is a Biblical number—six days of creation plus a day of rest = the week, as we read in the very first chapter of scripture.
But Jesus doesn’t give Peter a nice round number in return. He gives him an astonishingly large number—seventy-seven in most of our translations, but it can also be translated seventy-TIMES-seven. Four hundred and ninety.
Jesus is not using the ordinary math here, though. He’s using the math of abundance, the math of grace and expansiveness. He’s using holy math: the kind of calculations God makes in forgiving us.
I think that’s the lesson for Peter here: God does not put limits on our forgiveness, and so, we are called to do likewise. I think the catch for Peter is approaching the notion of forgiveness as if he were the one who needs to forgive someone. He forgets that it’s just as possible that he might be the one in need of forgiveness, a moment at which all of us might hope for the irrational and unexpected kinds of numbers Jesus provides.
A few provisos:
Forgiving someone does not mean allowing them to continue to do harm. If the forgiveness involves ongoing abuse or cruelty, your dignity as a human being requires that you do what you can to find safety and protection. It is possible to forgive from a distance, if the person being forgiven is inclined to continue to cause harm.
And accepting forgiveness means that we are required to reorganize ourselves in such a way that we do better, that we become better people, that we strive to cause harm no longer. Asking for forgiveness, and then continuing in our old, careless ways skews the calculus of God’s grace. To be welcomed back into relationship or community means that we become one of those who builds up, rather than tears down.
There is not a person here who hasn’t needed forgiveness at some point, nor is there a person here who has not had a situation or relationship in which we had an opportunity to forgive. As described above, we humans are frail, leaky vessels, who sometimes splash our brokenness all over others.
But take heart, dear wanderers. All is not lost. Our call is still to love, and forgiveness is a part of the great mandala that includes loving our neighbor. I leave you with words of wisdom by L. R. Knost, an author, activist, and founder of a children’s rights advocacy group:
Do not be dismayed by the brokenness of the world. All things break. And all things can be mended. Not with time, as they say, but with intention. So go. Love intentionally, extravagantly, unconditionally. The broken world waits in darkness for the light that is you.[iv]
Thanks be to God. Amen.
[i] Jan Edmiston, “What’s considered okay in your congregation? And by ‘okay,’ I mean, acceptable,” A Church For Starving Artists, March 16, 2024. https://achurchforstarvingartists.blog/2024/03/16/whats-considered-okay-in-your-congregation/#comment-168244.
[ii] Eleanor Shanklin, Facebook comment, March 16, 2024.
[iii] Lauren Wright Pittman, Artist’s Statement “Seventy-seven Times,” Inspired by Matthew 18:15-22, A Sanctified Art | sanctifiedart.org.
[iv] L. R. Knost, whose quote was shared by Eleanor Shanklin, above.