Welcome, sisters and brothers, and peace be with you. By the words on my lips and the meditations in our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our strength and our Redeemer. Amen. The music that I chose to begin this message is the introduction to what has been called the song that launched a thousand sermons. It is American musician, songwriter, and founder member of the Eagles, Don Henley's 1989 song The Heart of the Matter. It's a great song, and even those who have never been fans of the man and his music recognize its power. Such is the universal appeal of forgiveness. Mind you, given its origin in the blues, modern rock and roll and pop music more generally comes to us from an emotional palate rooted in desire, frustration, hurt, despair, sadness, anger, etc. There are thousands of songs that plead for a second chance. Thousands of songs of repentance and regret. Thousands more about standing one's ground, about enough being enough. But forgiveness? That's a different matter. An anthem about forgiveness will not get a party started. It may even spoil one. Revenge, for example, is far more apt to get fists pumping. There's a strange heaviness in the word forgiveness. Sometimes it feels like freedom, at other times, like dragging yourself through the mud. This week I have been remembering the nine eleven attacks in the United States. In the midst of this darkness, a shining light is Mrs. Phyllis Rodriguez, a mother who expresses forgiveness, not hate, towards those who killed her son. Phyllis's son, Greg, died in those terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center. He was a computer specialist working on the one hundred and third floor of the North Tower. And she recalls in harrowing detail how she found out that something terrible had happened that morning. Phyllis and her husband Orlando went on to release an open letter to the then president George W. Bush. The couple wanted no part of revenge. They opposed the death penalty for the man who became known as the twentieth hijacker, Zacharias Musawi. They befriended his mother and became active participants in human rights and forgiveness programs. Despite knowing that they will never see her son on this earth again, Phyllis chose forgiveness for those responsible. So what does it really mean to forgive someone? That is essentially the question that Peter is asking Jesus at the start of today's gospel. Matthew chapter eighteen verses twenty one to thirty five. Peter's suggestion of seven times is no accident. That was Peter's biblical signifier of what is complete or perfection. Peter wants to get it right. He's not asking Jesus what is the bare requirement to pass this little class. Peter wants to ace the test with a perfect score. Jesus replies, though, with an astronomical figure. Seventy times seven. This is the response that forgiveness requires something beyond perfection. Forgiveness requires, and let's let this sink in for a moment, something beyond perfection. The goal is the perfection of perfection. Infinity times infinity. No wonder we have such a hard time doing it. However, there is hope in this response from Jesus, because he is telling us that forgiveness is not about some sort of forgiveness count, but instead it's about ongoing discipleship. Put another way, forgiveness is beyond counting. In the face of her personal tragedy, Phyllis Rodriguez seems to do the impossible. A forgiveness that knows no bounds, a way of life, ongoing, beyond perfection. Forgiveness on its most basic level is a letting go. It is a choice that we make regardless of remorse shown or not shown by others, by behavioural changes made or not made by others. To give is to make a personal, conscious choice, to release the person who has wounded us from the sentence of our judgment, however justified we may feel that that judgment may be. It represents a choice to leave behind our resentment and hurt. Forgiveness means the original wound's power to hold us trapped is broken. We are released, we are set free. But as with most things that are ultimately good for us, it's often not the most attractive option unless we make the efforts. Our human nature seems to be to get sucked into our own anger. Such an attitude towards life well it breeds resentment, which is when we relive that anger over and over again. Forgiveness challenges us to release those things that bind us. Forgiveness challenges us to let go and let God. This is what makes forgiveness such a theologically important concept. When we let go of our resentment and anger and relinquish the grudges we have, we open up space, space to experience all of the other emotions present in our lives. Space to experience the grief if we need to grieve, space to experience the joy and hope in the promises of a brighter tomorrow, and time to work through the things that prevent us from living the lives that God intends for us. Most of all, forgiveness offers us the space to experience God's grace more fully. Let me be clear though, forgiveness is not just get over it. It's not pretending that some wrong did not occur or forgetting that it happened or acting like the harm done is acceptable by condoning it or excusing it. Forgiveness is naming the offence and declaring that it should never be repeated. Forgiveness is also declaring that the offence will no longer take hold in our lives. Forgiveness proclaims that mercy is what will define us. I think that is what Jesus was hoping for in his conversation with Peter and the parable that followed, that the lives of his disciples would be marked by mercy. Such mercy, though, can only come with a renewal of trust, which, very sadly, may not always be possible. If you aren't able to get to that point of reconciliation right now or ever, that's okay. Continue to work on the acts of forgiveness that you are being called to give. It's hard, excruciating work. But remember this refrain. We try to forgive, but we are human too. Forgiveness calls attention to our humanness at its most human. It reduces us to our most base of instincts and challenges us with the hard work of responding in the way of Christ. Listen to these words. When they came to the place called the Skull, they crucified him there, along with the criminals, one on his right and the other on his left. And then Jesus said Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing. The lessons of Jesus can be daunting. They are big, massive, larger than seems possible. Yet we need such big images to begin to wrap our heads around the nature of God, and such seemingly unreachable examples might just be what we need to begin to take even a little step in the direction that forgiveness calls us one opportunity at a time, then seven, then seventy times seven. May we, little by little, in the power of the Holy Spirit, move more into the ways of God's mercy. Ilunga Itengoa Oteatua te matua tama mete wadu tapu amine.
