October 31, 2021: Resilience: Forgiveness
Matthew 18:21-35
Rev. Rhonda Blevins
Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?”
Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.
“Therefore, the kingdom of heaven is like a king who wanted to settle accounts with his servants. As he began the settlement, a man who owed him ten thousand bags of gold was brought to him. Since he was not able to pay, the master ordered that he and his wife and his children and all that he had be sold to repay the debt.
“At this the servant fell on his knees before him. ‘Be patient with me,’ he begged, ‘and I will pay back everything.’ The servant’s master took pity on him, canceled the debt and let him go.
“But when that servant went out, he found one of his fellow servants who owed him a hundred silver coins. He grabbed him and began to choke him. ‘Pay back what you owe me!’ he demanded.
“His fellow servant fell to his knees and begged him, ‘Be patient with me, and I will pay it back.’
“But he refused. Instead, he went off and had the man thrown into prison until he could pay the debt. When the other servants saw what had happened, they were outraged and went and told their master everything that had happened.
“Then the master called the servant in. ‘You wicked servant,’ he said, ‘I canceled all that debt of yours because you begged me to. Shouldn’t you have had mercy on your fellow servant just as I had on you?’ In anger his master handed him over to the jailers to be tortured, until he should pay back all he owed.
“This is how my heavenly Father will treat each of you unless you forgive your brother or sister from your heart.”
______
Back in 2016, the Right Rev. Herb Freitag announced his intention to retire as pastor of Chapel by the Sea. Herb had been the pastor for 32 years—longer than a few of you have been alive! I’m told that announcement set the church on edge; some wondered if this meant the de facto end of Chapel by the Sea. But a search team was formed to find the next pastor—the team was optimistic that they could find a decent pastor—maybe no Herb Freitag, but a suitable pastor to lead the church forward.
Enter: me.
I sent my resume to the church upon learning of the opening, knowing just a little about the Chapel through the International Council of Community Churches. I had met the esteemed Rev. Freitag on a few occasions. I heard the whispers that Freitag was thinking about retirement . . . so I checked in on the situation from time to time. And when the announcement went public, “Chapel by the Sea seeks a pastor,” I pounced. I suppose my resume and my reputation were sufficient to get that first interview (or maybe I paid the right people!). It was a video conference interview before zoom became a part of our everyday vernacular.
I was pumped! So excited about the interview! I spent way too much time preparing: I thought about my backdrop and got out a card table so the backdrop would be the prettiest Christmas decorations I had up. I thought about camera angles and propped my laptop on a stack of books. I thought about lighting, opening all the blinds and, being still too dark, placing every lamp in the house around me. I should have taken a picture because it was quite a scene! With my years of ministry experience, my “winning personality,” and my elaborate “set” for my video interview, I thought I could nail it.
I was wrong. Adrienne Archer told me later that I bombed! The search team kept talking to me not because of that interview, but despite it.
Here’s part of the story the search team has never known. I didn’t lie to them, exactly. It just, didn’t come up. What I am about to tell you is part of the story I’ve been too ashamed to share—at least until you got to know me and my character better.
When that video interview happened, I had just been placed on “administrative leave” by my employer. I was ashamed, mortified and more than ready to leave the job I was in—and my guess is that all that anxiety and desperation manifested in subtle ways that the search team could read.
Why was I on administrative leave? I had an employee who complained about me to my board, and I was under investigation. She told a series of lies about me in order to get me fired. So the board had to investigate. And they decided to place both of us on leave in the meantime.
The board could find no wrongdoing on my part; I was reinstated to my job, my employee was terminated, but the damage was done. The lies were out there. Among my former employee’s friends, my reputation was shattered. And I was . . . broken. When you go into ministry you don’t expect fame or riches—all you’ve got is your reputation, and mine had taken a serious blow.
I’ve been thinking about this episode lately as I’ve been asked to write my story as a woman called to ministry for a book—a collection—of stories by female colleagues. I wasn’t sure if I could write about this because I still wrestle with occasional bouts of shame (not guilt) around the whole thing. I haven’t shared this story with you because I was fearful that you might wonder if the lies were true (they weren’t). If maybe I would bring some toxicity with me to the Chapel (I haven’t). See how shame is the gift that keeps on giving?
I decided to write the part of the story that I could write. There’s been enough distance from this dark chapter to recognize the silver linings (remember “finding silver linings” is a building block to resilience?). One silver lining from this whole painful ordeal are the lessons I learned. Here’s what I wrote (and will soon be published) about a lesson learned through this difficult time:
Among the lessons learned in this dark chapter of my vocational journey is a lesson in forgiveness. There was never a moment when I didn’t forgive the central player in my downfall. I recognized all along that person was acting out of a deep, visceral woundedness. Though it felt personal in the moment, I know it wasn’t personal at all. There was never a moment that I didn’t forgive the many others dragged into the mess. They were all doing their best.
Forgiveness.
A building block of resilience, and once again, a virtue of the Christian faith.
One day Peter asked Jesus a legitimate question: “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?” Now, whenever you see the number “seven” in the Bible, know that this is the number of completion, of perfection. Peter is asking here, “Is perfect forgiveness required of me?” The Jewish rabbis at the time were teaching that you didn’t have to forgive someone more than three times, basing this on Amos 1:3-13 in which Yahweh forgave Israel’s enemies three times, then punished them. So Peter’s question isn’t just reasonable, it’s generous. In addition to being generous, Peter seems to recognize that forgiveness isn’t always cut and dry. It’s a process. It often takes time. Even when we want to forgive, sometimes the bitterness and anger hangs on like last year’s carb fest. Sometimes Peter seems a little unhinged, this time, he asks a perfectly reasonable question: “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?”
Jesus answers: “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.” I’ll see your perfect forgiveness, and I’ll raise you by seventy. The Greek here isn’t quite clear, by the way. Our translation reads “seventy-seven times,” other translations go with “seventy times seven.” Either way, it’s a lot more than seven! I actually think that “seventy times seven” is a better translation, because it seems that Jesus, opposite the other rabbis citing Amos, Jesus seems to be referencing the book of Daniel 9:24—in this passage God gives the people seventy weeks—a week is seven days so seventy times seven—God gives the people seventy times seven to seek atonement. Jesus, apparently referencing this passage, seems to acknowledge that perfect forgiveness isn’t just a one and done thing, but it’s a process that takes time, seventy sevens.
People have been married a long time know this. Being married a long time requires forgiveness on the seventy times seven scale. He leaves his underwear on the floor every day—she forgives him every day. She wakes up grumpy every day—he forgives her every day. Then there are the more serious offenses—the offenses that may take a lot of time and a lot of prayer to heal. Seventy times seven.
Jesus goes on to tell Peter and friends a parable—a story he likely made up—to explain the nature of forgiveness. The master in the story forgives the massive debt of the servant, who then goes out and does not forgive a small debt from someone else. The master learns that his kindness and forgiveness was not paid forward, and he becomes angry, punishing the servant for the servant’s lack of forgiveness. I don’t love the last verse in which Jesus said, “This is how my heavenly Father will treat each of you unless you forgive your brother or sister from your heart.” Jesus often uses hyperbole to get his point across, which is what he’s doing here. The message is clear: God takes this forgiveness stuff pretty darn seriously.
Why? What’s the rationale for the forgiveness we’re expected to extend to those who hurt or offend us? The Apostle Paul offers a clear rationale when he writes to his friends in Ephesus: “Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” (Ephesians 4:32) We are called to forgive, just as we are ultimately forgiven.
The good news is, if we practice forgiveness, it’s good for our health, both mentally and physically.
Here’s what Mayo Clinic says about this:
Letting go of grudges and bitterness can make way for improved health and peace of mind. Forgiveness can lead to:
Healthier relationships
Improved mental health
Less anxiety, stress and hostility
Lower blood pressure
Fewer symptoms of depression
A stronger immune system
Improved heart health
Improved self-esteem[1]
Happier? Healthier? Sign me up!
Before we talk about practical ways we can grow in the grace of forgiveness, let’s first make sure we’re on the same page with our definition of forgiveness. “Psychologists generally define forgiveness as 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.”[2] Maybe the transgressor has apologized, maybe not. Maybe the transgressor asks for forgiveness, maybe not. Maybe the transgressor is alive, maybe not. Our ability to forgive is not contingent upon any restitution the offender seeks. Here’s what’s cool about forgiveness: so many things in life we have no control over. We totally DO have control over whether we choose to forgive or not.
We never lose our power, our control, our agency—to forgive. And when we choose forgiveness, we build resilience.
Researchers agree that forgiveness is a process. A trailblazer into research on forgiveness, Dr. Robert Enright, a professor of psychology at the University of Wisconsin at Madison, suggests that there are four phases of the forgiveness process in his book Forgiveness is a Choice: A Step-by-Step Process for Resolving Anger and Restoring Hope:
Phase 1: Uncovering Your Anger. Acknowledging your anger, admitting shame or guilt, noticing any adverse effects to your mental or physical health, noticing any ways your life or your worldview have changed.
Phase 2: Deciding to Forgive. Recognize that what you have been doing hasn’t worked, be willing to begin the forgiveness process, and decide to forgive.
Phase 3: Working on Forgiveness. Work toward understanding and compassion and accept the pain.
Phase 4: Discovery and Release from Emotional Prison. This involves discovering meaning in the suffering, recognizing you’re not alone, and discovering greater purpose. Enright says, “Unforgiveness, bitterness, resentment and anger are like the four walls of a prison cell. Forgiveness is the key that opens the door and lets you out of that cell.”[3] Enright says he has never encountered anyone, in all his study, who wanted back in the prison once they made their way out.
“So Jesus, how many times should we forgive?” Well, how free do you want to feel? How healthy do you want to be? How much resilience can you handle? Do you really want life abundant? Seventy times seven is a start.
Now I want to tread carefully here. I recognize that some of you have had some things happen to you—things far worse than a bunch of lies and a blow to your reputation. Forgiveness may be a life’s work and I certainly don’t want to trivialize it and make the process sound like “Take two aspirin and call me in the morning.”
And I want to be clear—forgiveness does not mean forgetting, nor does it always mean reconciliation. I don’t expect to be besties with that gal who tried to get me fired. I would never counsel an abused spouse to stay with the abuser. Forgiveness and boundaries can coexist.
Admittedly, an angry or bitter thought will occasionally well up inside me—and when that happens, I recite a mantra that helps me find, once again, my place of compassion for the person who hurt me. My mantra is simple, even cliché, but it helps me: “hurting people hurt people.” It helps me remember that she acted out of suffering, and because I know suffering, I can shift from anger to empathy. Remember and release. Remember and release. Harboring that bitterness doesn’t hurt anyone but me.
You may remember Corrie ten Boom, author of The Hiding Place and concentration camp survivor, told of not being able to forget a wrong that had been done to her. She had forgiven the person, but she kept rehashing the incident and so she couldn’t sleep. Finally, Corrie cried out to God for help in putting the problem to rest. God’s “help came in the form of a kindly Lutheran pastor,” Corrie wrote, “to whom I confessed my failure after two sleepless weeks.” “Up in the church tower,” he said, nodding out the window, “is a bell which is rung by pulling on a rope. But you know what? After the sexton lets go of the rope, the bell keeps on swinging. First ding, then dong. Slower and slower until there’s a final dong and it stops. I believe the same thing is true of forgiveness. When we forgive, we take our hand off the rope. But if we’ve been tugging at our grievances for a long time, we mustn’t be surprised if the old angry thoughts keep coming for a while. They’re just the ding-dongs of the old bell slowing down.” “And so it proved to be. There were a few more midnight reverberations, a couple of dings when the subject came up in my conversations, but the force—which was my willingness in the matter—had gone out of them. They came less and less often and at the last stopped altogether: we can trust God not only above our emotions, but also above our thoughts.”
If you want to build resilience, take your hand off the rope—those old grievances—again and again and again. Cultivate forgiveness.
Over the past few weeks, we’ve explored evidence-based ways to build resilience—we’ve explored these methods in light of our faith. Here they are once again:
Look for silver linings
Face your fears
Practice self-compassion
Practice contemplative prayer or meditate
Cultivate forgiveness.
Do these things, and you can be like the tree growing out of the rock, finding strength in difficult situations, standing tall through the storms of life seventy times seven to the seventh degree.
[1] https://www.mayoclinic.org/healthy-lifestyle/adult-health/in-depth/forgiveness/art-20047692
[2] https://greatergood.berkeley.edu/topic/forgiveness/definition
[3] Robert D. Enright, Forgiveness is a Choice: A Step-by-Step Process for Resolving Anger and Restoring Hope, American Psychological Association, Washington D.C., 2001, p. 79.