17 Pentecost A Matthew 18:21-35 September 15, 2002
Rev. Roger Haugen
The story of Jean Valjean, written by Victor Hugo, is powerful. It is the story of a man driven by hunger and poverty to steal bread to feed his family. He is imprisoned and the anger at the injustice results in his striking out with his jail term being extended over and over again. He is finally released but is forced to carry a yellow passport that he must show to the officials of any town he enters. This passport ensures that he is always turned away. Finally, seeking help from a bishop he bursts through the bishop’s door saying loudly:
See here! My name is Jean Valjean. I am a convict; I have been 19 years in the galleys. Four days ago I was set free, and started for Pontarlier; during those four days I have walked twelve leagues. When I reached this place this evening I went to an inn, and they sent me away on account of my yellow passport; which I had shown at the mayor’s office, as was necessary. I went to another inn; they said, “Get out!” It was the same with one as with another, no one would have me. I went to the prison and the turnkey would not let me in. I crept into a dog kennel, the dog bit me, and drove me away as if he had been a man; you would have said that he knew who I was. I went into the fields to sleep beneath the stars. . . ; I thought it would rain, and there was no God to stop the drops, so I came back to town to get the shelter of some doorway. There in the square I lay down upon a stone; a good woman showed me your house, and said, “Knock there!” I have knocked. What is this place? Are you an inn?
The bishop welcomed him and set before him a splendid meal served on silver platters. Also on the table were two silver candlesticks. Jean Valjean addressed the bishop:
“You are good; you don’t despise me. You take me into your house; you light your candles for me, and I haven’t hid from you where I come from and how miserable I am.”
The bishop who was sitting near him, touched his hand gently and said:
“You need not tell me who you are. This is not my house; it is the house of Christ. It does not ask any comer whether he has a name, but whether he has an affliction. You are suffering; you are hungry and thirsty; be welcome. And do not thank me; do not tell me that I take you into my house. This is the home of no man, except him who needs asylum. I tell you, who are a traveler, that you are more at home here than I; whatever is here is yours. What need have I to know your name? Besides, before you told me I knew it”. . .
“Really, you knew my name?”
“Yes,” answered the bishop, “your name is my brother.”
Jean Valjean was unable to sleep being unaccustomed to sleeping in a bed. During the night the temptation was too strong so he rose, put the silver under his coat and left. Stopped by the police they soon discovered the silver and brought him back to the bishop. The Bishop said, “I gave him the silver, he has more need of it than I.” Jean Valjean broke down at such love and forgiveness.
The bishop said, “You are my brother.” The bishop knew what it was to be forgiven, how could he not forgive Jean Valjean for such a small thing as some silver?
It is possible for me to become quite theoretical about grace and forgiveness. I have never lived on the seamier side of life. Subconsciously I might feel that I’m not in need of as much forgiveness as some other people. I might even be tempted to thank God for being such a good person. Today’s text reminds me that in the sight of God, we are all sinners. If I were to hope to convince God of my goodness, I am lost before I start.
Yet in my theoretical, calculating world of degrees of sin I can convince myself that there is someone more sinful than me. Peter asks a question, “How often do I need to forgive?” And Jesus tells him a ridiculous story. A king discovers a debt owed to him larger than the national debt. It is ridiculous to imagine how it got so large, ridiculous to imagine it being paid back, and even more ridiculous to listen to the plea of the person that he would pay it all back. The story becomes even more ridiculous when the king forgives the debt.
In response the forgiven servant leaves only to find someone who owed him a small amount, the cost of a dozen donuts, or so. His reaction is ridiculous, he grabbed the person and threw him into jail demanding payment.
We are offended, “How dare he not forgive the other person?”
Maybe this is where the story ceases to be ridiculous.
As humans we are not so good at forgiveness. Our tendency is to retaliate, seek vengeance, especially when our pride is hurt. It must have smarted for the first servant to be forgiven his debt, to realize that this was the only way out. He could not save himself, he could only be saved by the master. We live, so often, in the illusion that we are the masters of our own fate, that we are able to take care of ourselves. The truth is, we are lost, there is nothing in our own power that can save us from the debt we owe God.
Let me tell you another ridiculous story. God created the world and put humanity in it. He told us not to take life but to receive life as a gift. Yet we took, we isolated ourselves from others, we broke relationships – with God and with one another. God sent prophets into our world to help us see God’s gift for what it was, to help us to live as God’s people. Yet we were hard-hearted, ignoring God’s plea for obedience. Then God sent his Son, Jesus Christ, into the world to live among us, to show us how we are to live within God’s Kingdom. Jesus restored our relationship with God once again and went so far as to die for each one of us. He died for the sins of all humanity, yours and mine. A ridiculous story. A story that demonstrates God’s ridiculous love for you and me.
Jesus taught us to pray, “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” This is a ridiculous notion that we are unable to accomplish on our own, but by the grace of God we are able to forgive knowing that we have been forgiven. Martin Luther wrote about this petition:
“If anyone boasts of his goodness and despises others, they should examine themselves in the light of this petition. They will find they are no better than others, that in the presence of God all must humble themselves and be glad that they can attain forgiveness. Let no one think that they will ever in this life reach the point where he does not need this forgiveness. In, short, unless God constantly forgives, we are lost.”
Thank God for ridiculous stories! Forgiveness is ours for the asking. In our worship we repeat, “If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. But if we confess our sins, God who is faithful and just, will forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” In case we miss the magnitude of this gift, we continue, “we confess that we are in bondage to sin and cannot free ourselves. We have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done and have left undone. We have not loved you with our whole heart; we have not loved our neighbour as ourselves.” We throw ourselves upon the mercy of God as we say, “For the sake of your Son, Jesus Christ, have mercy on us. Forgive us, renew us, and lead us, so that we may relight in your will and walk in your way, to the glory of your holy name.”
We stand caught in the ridiculous expectation that God would love us so much as to forgive us “all that we have done and left undone.” We hear the glorious words, the ridiculous words, God’s words, “In the mercy of almighty God, Jesus Christ was given to die for you, and for his sake God forgives you all your sins.” A ridiculous ending to our story but an ending we need so desperately to hear, and it is true. Thanks be to God.
