Twenty-Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time (9/17/23)

 

The Hardest Thing

A few years back, a couple unknown to me called the parish where I was stationed seeking a priest to provide some guidance.  Quite bluntly, their marriage was at its breaking point.

Mindful that their story in all its detail is not mine to tell, I can share that I was struck then – as I still am these many years later – by the anger that the husband exuded as he walked into the rectory that evening.  When he sat down, the first words out of his mouth were: “I can’t forgive her for what she’s done to me.”

What she did doesn’t matter at this point, but it was nothing that made this priest’s hair (what’s left of it) stand on end.  She was clearly remorseful and she repeatedly said to him gently, “I don’t know how else I can apologize to you.”

He kept his arms folded, turning his head away from her to stare out the window.  He was hurting.

“Hey,” she said, touching his arm lightly to draw his attention back to her, “don’t forget that I forgave you when you cheated on me with ---, and it took me a long time to get there.”

Silence.  But her point was made – and her heart revealed.

This wife had forgiven much herself first.

The Scripture readings this weekend speak to the challenge of – and the power of – the selfless act of forgiving another person.  It may be the hardest thing we are asked to do along our life’s journey.

All of us have been hurt by others, and some very deeply.  We hold onto the wounds and the hurtful words and the painful scars of bad memories for years, even decades.  We try to forget, but can’t.  Sometimes, we think that revenge is the only way forward.

Jesus makes it clear, though, in today’s Gospel of the forgiven servant (Matt 18: 21-35): in order to truly heal, forgiveness is the key.

God knows it’s impossible to do it on our own.  We cannot forgive once – much less 77 times – without His grace.  But – and this is also equally vital – we have to be open to the possibility that healing through forgiveness can and will come in time.

Will it be easy?  No, it never is.  In fact, it may take a life’s journey to do so, but it is one we must take if we want to be set free from the chains of hurt and anger.

Let’s face it: everything about Christianity is built on the foundation of forgiveness.  From the Cross to the Our Father prayer, we are both gently and boldly reminded that we will not see God or experience true love until we set our hearts free from anger and vengeful bitterness. 

We’ll never enter the Kingdom in the hereafter – or even see it breaking-in the world around us – unless we offer forgiveness to the one (or ones) who have hurt us deeply.

“It will make me weak and allow the other person to win,” we argue.  “If I forgive, it means I accept the hurtful and hateful behavior that was placed upon me, and it gives them a free pass to hurt again.”

Those thoughts are certainly understandable and normal.  But they’re also used by Satan to keep us stuck in our own place of bitterness.  God doesn’t want that for us.

The whole point of the parable is to remind ourselves of the very fact that forgiveness is a gift we offer to another – one they often don’t deserve, quite frankly – because a heart that lives and loves in true freedom wants the hateful hearts of others to be healed from its brokenness.

If we truly embrace the fact that God went to the Cross and died for us – for ME – in order to set us (me) free from the ways we have hurt Him, others and even ourselves, then how could we not offer the same?  The name “Christian” and the act of forgiveness are synonymous; we can’t be one if we don’t live lives of merciful love to those who have hurt us.

A later conversation I had with the wife of the man who couldn’t forgive his wife revealed something quite beautiful about the forgiveness journey she herself took in order to reach a healing place in her own life.

“I had to pray for him every day,” she shared, “especially when I wanted to hate him and get revenge.”  Praying for the one who has hurt us is essential, or it will never happen.

And be honest with God and with yourself on the journey, too.  One of the most powerful and humble prayers of forgiveness I have ever heard goes something like this: “Lord, I am having a hard time forgiving this person/act, and I can’t do it on my own.  But I give You permission to work in my own heart so that the hurt that was placed on me doesn’t keep me chained in that hurt and hate forever.”

Do you see what that prayer is doing?  Ultimately, it is allowing the Gift of the Cross to transform our hearts so that the ones who hurt us no longer camp there in pits of bitterness.  No one heals – including ourselves – if that’s where we want others to live.  No one loves if the chains of hate keep us held down.

What I witnessed that night in the couple who came to my rectory seeking guidance was a woman who did the hard work of opening her life to grace.  She wrestled much to forgive her husband for his infidelity and brokenness, but in so doing she was moving toward a place of true peace and freedom.  Yes, she still made mistakes and struggled with moments of sin, but her husband’s unfaithfulness no longer determined the direction of her heart.

And therein lies the other “secret” that Jesus is revealing to us: perhaps the husband who couldn’t forgive his wife for a much smaller offense couldn’t offer what he himself did not accept.  Perhaps the “torture” Christ speaks of at the end of today’s Gospel is the torture of not being able to forgive ourselves or accept the gift of mercy offered from others – and Him.  That’s a hell that we make for ourselves.

How tragic it is when one who has been offered forgiveness never really accepts it.

If we don’t, we remain stuck.  We remain broken.  We fail to embrace love in the way it should be received.

Is the journey of forgiveness hard?  You bet. 

But it may be the most important journey we make this side of heaven … so that our time here may not be a living hell.