Twenty-Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Deacon George Gussy
There was an elderly woman, who would shop at the grocery store near her home. She would go almost every day, but only buy a few items each time.. After about a month of doing this, she said to one of the cashiers, “I suppose you wonder why I’m here so often. Well, I’ll tell you. You see, I live with my nephew. I can’t stand him, and I am not going to die and leave him with a refrigerator full of food.”
There is an old saying: “Holding a grudge is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to suffer.” We may smile when we hear it, but anyone who has carried a deep hurt knows how true it can be. Resentment has a way of settling into the heart. We replay the conversation. We remember what was said. We imagine what we should have said. We tell ourselves that we have moved on, but then the person’s name is mentioned, and suddenly the old wound opens again.
That is why today’s readings are so relevant. They speak directly to our ordinary human lives. They speak about something every family, every marriage, every friendship, every parish, and every community eventually has to face: forgiveness.
Peter comes to Jesus with what he probably thinks is a generous proposal: “Lord, my brother sins against me, how often must I forgive? As many as seven times?”
Seven times! Peter probably expects Jesus to congratulate him. After all, forgiving someone seven times seems extraordinary, especially in the “eye for an eye” culture of that time.
But Jesus answers, “I say to you, not seven times but seventy-seven times.”
Jesus is not asking Peter to keep a notebook: That’s number seventy–six; you have one more chance. He is saying to Peter, and to us, that Christian forgiveness cannot be reduced to arithmetic. Forgiveness has to become a way of life because forgiveness is the way God has treated us.
And then Jesus tells a powerful parable.
A servant owes his king an enormous debt-so enormous that he could never repay it. Biblical scholars say that it was the equivalent of about 180 years of wages. The king orders that everything be sold to settle the debt. The servant falls down and begs, “Be patient with me, and I will pay you back in full.”
The king knows perfectly well that the man could never repay such a debt. Yet something remarkable happens. Moved with compassion, the king does not merely give him more time.
He forgives the entire debt.
Imagine walking into a bank carrying a debt you could never repay and being told, “Your balance is zero. You owe nothing. Go home in peace.”
What freedom! What joy! What gratitude!
But then the servant walks outside and meets another servant who owes him a much smaller amount. He grabs him by the throat and demands, “Pay back what you owe.”
The second servant uses almost exactly the same words that the first servant had used before the king: “Be patient with me, and I will pay you back.”
But the forgiven servant refuses.
That is the tragedy of the story. The man received mercy, but mercy never reached his heart. He experienced forgiveness, but he did not become forgiving.
And Jesus is asking us today: Has God’s mercy reached our hearts?
Every time we come to Mass, we begin by acknowledging our sins. We ask the Lord for mercy. We hear the Word of God. We approach the altar, not because we are perfect, but because God is merciful.
Some of us have gone to confession carrying things we were ashamed even to speak aloud. And through the ministry of the Church, we heard those beautiful words of absolution.
God forgave us.
And then we walk out into the world and encounter the person who offended us.
That is where the Gospel becomes difficult.
Forgiveness sounds beautiful in church. It becomes much harder at the kitchen table, in the workplace, in the family gathering, or when we remember something painful that happened years ago.
Some wounds are small. Someone spoke impatiently. Someone forgot to call. Someone made an insensitive comment.
Other wounds are much deeper: betrayal, abandonment, dishonesty, broken promises, family conflicts, years of harsh words.
Jesus does not pretend that these things do not hurt.
Christian forgiveness does not mean saying that what happened was acceptable.
It does not mean pretending that evil is good.
It does not mean that trust must immediately be restored.
And forgiveness does not require us to remain in situations where someone continues to harm us. Sometimes healthy boundaries are necessary.
Forgiveness means something deeper.
It means saying, “I will not allow what you did to control my heart forever. I place you–and the justice I desire–into the hands of God.”
Sometimes forgiveness is not a single moment. Sometimes it is a journey.
We may sincerely forgive someone today, only to wake up tomorrow and feel the hurt again. Then we may have to say, “Lord, I forgive this person again. Help me.”
And perhaps we will have to pray that prayer many times.
That may be what “seventy-seven times” looks like in real life.
Sometimes we are forgiving the same person seventy-seven times.
Sometimes we are forgiving the same wound seventy-seven times.
The first reading from Sirach gives us a powerful warning: “Wrath and anger are hateful things, yet the sinner hugs them tight.”
What an interesting expression: “hugs them tight.”
We usually think of hugging something we love. Yet sometimes we hug our resentment. We hold onto it because it makes us feel justified. We rehearse the offense because we are afraid that forgiving will somehow let the other person “win.”
But resentment does not punish only the person who hurt us.
It imprisons us.
The person who hurt us may be sleeping peacefully while we lie awake replaying the offense.
God wants something better for us, He wants freedom.
And don’t forget, Sometimes the person we have the greatest difficulty forgiving is ourselves.
We believe that God forgives sins, but somewhere inside we think, “Yes, God forgives other people’s sins. But surely He still holds mine against me.”
We remember mistakes from twenty years ago. We remember opportunities we missed, words we wish we could take back, ways we failed people we loved.
If we have sincerely repented and brought our sins to God’s mercy, then we must learn to accept what God has given us.
Mercy.
Saint Paul tells us today, “None of us lives for oneself, and no one dies for oneself.” We belong to the Lord.
Our past, our wounds, our sins, our relationships, and even the people who have hurt us, all belong to Him.
At every Mass, shortly before receiving Holy Communion, we pray the Lord’s Prayer. Perhaps because we know it so well, we sometimes rush through the words:
“Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.”
That is a dangerous prayer!
We are asking God to make His mercy visible in the way we treat one another.
And immediately afterward, we exchange the sign of peace.
That is no accident.
The Eucharist draws us into reconciliation. We cannot receive the Body of Christ while being indifferent to the wounds within the Body of Christ.
So today, perhaps we can bring one person with us spiritually to the altar.
Someone we are having trouble forgiving.
Place that person beside the bread and wine and say:
“Jesus, I give this person to You. I give You my anger. I give You my memories. I give you my desire to be proven right. Heal what I cannot heal. Forgive what I cannot yet forgive. Give me Your heart.”
And then remember something wonderful.
We are all servants standing before a King with a debt we could never repay.
And our King looks upon us with compassion.
He does not grab us by the throat.
He opens His arms.
He does not demand that we repay the impossible debt.
He pays it Himself on the Cross.
That is Christianity.
We forgive not because the other person deserves forgiveness.
We forgive because we have been forgiven.
We show mercy because we have received mercy.
And when forgiveness seems impossible, we look at Jesus crucified, who prayed for those who nailed Him to the Cross: “Father, forgive them.”
That same Jesus lives within us. 5
So this week, do not begin by trying to forgive seventy-seven times. Just forgive someone once.
And perhaps, little by little, something wonderful will happen.
The memory may remain.
The past may not change.
The other person may not change.
But your heart will change.
The prison door will open.
And you will discover that forgiveness is not merely a gift we give to another person.
It is one of the ways God sets us free.