The Discipline of Forgiveness

Holocaust survivor and evangelist Corrie ten Boom tells of the challenge to forgive:

It was in a church in Munich that I saw him—a balding, heavyset man in a gray overcoat, a brown felt hat clutched between his hands. People were filing out of the basement room where I had just spoken, moving along the rows of wooden chairs to the door at the rear. It was 1947 and I had come from Holland to defeated Germany with the message that God forgives.

It was the truth they needed most to hear in that bitter, bombed-out land, and I gave them my favorite mental picture. Maybe because the sea is never far from a Hollander’s mind, I like to think that’s where forgiven sins are thrown. “When we confess our sins,” I said, “God casts them into the deepest ocean, gone forever. And even though I cannot find a Scripture for it, I believe God then places a sign out there that says, NO FISHING ALLOWED.”

… And that’s when I saw him, working his way forward against the others. One moment I saw the overcoat and the brown hat; the next a blue uniform and a visored cap with its skull and crossbones. It came back with a rush: the huge room with its harsh overhead lights; the pathetic pile of dresses and shoes in the center of the floor; the shame of walking naked past this man. I could see my sister’s frail form ahead of me, ribs sharp beneath the parchment skin. Betsie, how thin you were!

The place was Ravensbruck and the man who was making his way forward had been a guard—one of the most cruel guards.

Now he was in front of me, hand thrust out: “A fine message, Fraulein! How good is it to know that, as you say, all our sins are at the bottom of the sea. 

And I, who had spoken of glibly of forgiveness, fumbled in my pocketbook rather than take that hand. He would not remember me, of course—how could he remember one prisoner among those thousands of women?

But I remembered him and the leather crop swinging from his belt. I was face-to-face with one of my captors and my blood seemed to freeze.

“You mentioned Ravensbruck in your talk,” he was saying. “I was a guard in there.” No, he did not remember me.

“But since that time,” he went on, “I have become a Christian. I know that God has forgiven me for the cruel things I did there, but I would like to hear it from your lips as well. Fraulein,”—again the hand came out— “will you forgive me?”

And I stood there—I whose sins had every day to be forgiven—and could not forgive. Betsie had died in that place—could he erase her slow terrible death simply for the asking?

There is no Christian life without forgiveness—extended by God to us and by us to others. Yet as Corrie ten Boom shows forgiveness can be so hard to give and to receive. How are we then to live?

Matthew 18 (NRSV)

Commentary

v15-17, 21:  member [of the church]. The NRSV here is giving a very specific interpretation. The Greek here is simply “brother,” and many commentaries (and translations) infer that Jesus is giving instruction for reconciliation between church brethren. However, in the Greek of Matthew, Jesus only refers to his church twice: 18:17, and 16:18.

v20:  I am there with them. Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s concept of the church derives from this verse. Specifically, we, the incarnation of the body of Christ, are the interface through whom the Spirit commonly chooses to operate in the world.

v22:  not 7 times, but 77 times. See here the reversal of the prescription for vengeance formulated by Lamech (Gen. 4:23-24).

In Luke’s parallel passage (Luke 17:3-6). Jesus says if another disciple offends 7 times a day but comes back each time and says, “I repent,” one must forgive. While Judaism stresses forgiveness, some rabbis limited forgiveness to 3 instances of premeditated sin, arguing that repentance was otherwise inauthentic.

In Luke, the disciples’ response is shock: “Increase our faith!” (v5). Jesus replies that faith the size of a mustard seed is sufficient. Both Matthew and Luke speak of miraculous power in connection with forgiveness. However, in Matthew 18:18-19, the power appears to be external—binding and loosing—while in Luke the power appears to be internal, transforming us into agents of forgiveness.

v23:  the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king. Calvin says of this parable, “It would be an idle exercise of ingenuity to examine here every minute clause.” It is sufficient to note that the debt of the first slave is impossible to work off, while the debt of the second is manageable.

Application

● A husband and wife come into my office for counseling. The husband says, “I know I made a mistake. I’ve told her I’m sorry, but she won’t forgive me.”

● A middle-aged woman comes into my office for advice. “I was verbally abused by my parents when I was a teen. My father is dead, and my mother has dementia. How can I ever get an apology and be at peace?”

● A sex offender talks to me about attending church. “My crime was years ago in another state. I want to be treated like everyone else.”

● A Nazi concentration camp guard goes to one of his former captives and asks for forgiveness.

What does forgiveness look like for each of these people? Specifically, what are they asking for? David Augsberger, Professor of Pastoral Care and Counseling at Fuller Theological Seminary, suggests that forgiveness is a highly-nuanced term and that counselors need to clarify what people are asking for when they say they are sorry:

● Do they want an end to punishment?

● Do they want an end to blame?

● Do they want to wind back the clock, to go back to the way life used to be?

● Do they want reconciliation, a remaking the relationship into something new?

The key verses, v21-22, are sandwiched between two passages that appear to give very different perspectives on forgiveness. v15-20 appear to speak of reconciliation between church members, while v23-35 appear to address the hubris which keeps us from forgiving others as we are forgiven.

Frederick Buechner, in Wishful Thinking, A Seeker’s ABC, calls this hubris pride

To forgive somebody is to say one way or another, "You have done something unspeakable, and by all rights I should call it quits between us. Both my pride and my principles ... demand no less. However, although I make no guarantees that I will be able to forget what you've done, and though we may both carry the scars for life, I refuse to let it stand between us. I still want you for my friend."

To accept forgiveness means to admit that you've done something unspeakable that needs to be forgiven, and thus both parties must swallow the same thing: their pride ...

When somebody you’ve wronged forgives you, you're spared the dull and self-diminishing throb of a guilty conscience.

When you forgive somebody who has wronged you, you're spared the dismal corrosion of bitterness and wounded pride.

For both parties, forgiveness means the freedom again to be at peace inside their own skins and to be glad in each other's presence.

With all due respect to Buechner, there are other stumbling blocks on the road to forgiveness:

● despair, the feeling that we are powerless to maintain the relationship,

● guilt, the nagging conviction we do not deserve better, or

● anger (at worst, revenge; at best, a perverted sense of justice).

All this needs to be teased apart in order to understand how to proceed towards reconciliation. Reconciliation is big—too big a topic for one sermon. Reconciliation requires two parties to come together to remake the relationship. But before reconciliation can commence, at least one party needs to be able to forgive.

The question is: 

● Are you going to be able to forgive in the absence of an apology?

● Are you going to be able to forgive in the absence of remorse or contrition?

● Are you going to be able to forgive in the absence of any hope of a reformulated relationship?

Despite apologies, remorse, or a change of heart, ultimately we are called to put to death our pride and principles, our guilt and despair, and our anger, and forgive without the possibility of seeing justice. Whether it’s forgiving 7 times a day (as Luke 17 tells the story), or 77 times, or 70x7 times, the point is still the same: can you become able to forgive another knowing that in all likelihood the offender will do the exact same thing again? I’ve been asked, “What is the core attribute a pastor must have?” My answer speaks to this, “A pastor must be able to forgive parishioners, knowing that they’re going to do that same thing again, and yet still be able to look at them and love them.”

Remember, I’m talking about forgiveness as an antecedent to reconciliation. Remaining in an abusive relationship isn’t forgiving, it’s unwise. There are plenty of times where breaking a relationship for a season is advisable, but even in the middle of breaking the relationship, can you forgive the other in advance?

Here is what I have learned about forgiveness. If I do not have a bias for forgiveness, it does not happen. If I do not look for excuses to forgive, it does not happen. What I’m suggesting is the opposite of what we usually do, i.e. demonizing our enemies, making them into one-dimensional caricatures, defined solely by their offense. Rather, by looking for excuses to forgive, I’m trying to see my offenders through another set of eyes: their eyes, perhaps, letting me see things from their point of view; or imagined eyes, letting me see reality from a fanciful point of view which nevertheless gives me the space to forgive.

● The husband and wife in my office: Can the wife see her husband as more than a one-dimensional sub-creature out to vex her? What reason can she imagine for her husband’s behavior that would allow her to forgive him?

● The middle-aged woman with unreachable parents: Can she find it in herself to become the adult in the relationship and allow them a second, albeit sadder, childhood?

● The sex offender: Can I grieve with him for what he has lost without making him a monster again?

● The Nazi guard: In forgiving such an evil-doer, can we see ourselves becoming conformed to the mind of Christ? 

The hubris which keeps us from forgiveness whispers that the offenders are not necessary, and we can persevere without them. However, a bias for forgiveness whispers that each has a home in the community, a place in the body, and the reality of forgiveness must precede the possibility of reconciliation (Romans 5:8).

Corrie ten Boom concludes the story of her encounter with her former guard:

… I had to do it—I knew that. The message that God forgives has a prior condition: that we forgive those who have injured us. “If you do not forgive men their trespasses,” Jesus says, “neither will your Father in heaven forgive your trespasses.”

I knew it not only as a commandment of God, but as a daily experience. Since the end of the war … [t]hose who were able to forgive their former enemies were able also to return to the outside world and rebuild their lives, no matter what the physical scars. Those who nursed their bitterness remained invalids. It was as simple and horrible as that.

And still I stood there with the coldness clutching my heart. But forgiveness is not an emotion—I knew that too. Forgiveness is an act of the will, and the will can function regardless of the temperature of the heart. “Jesus, help me!” I prayed silently. “I can lift my hand. I can do that much. You supply the feeling!”

And so woodenly, mechanically, I thrust my hand into the one stretched out to me. As I did, an incredible thing took place. The current started in my shoulder, raced down my arm, sprang into our joined hands. And then this healing warmth seemed to flood my whole being, bringing tears to my eyes.

“I forgive you, brother!” I cried. “With my whole heart.”

… But even so, I realized that it was not my love. I had tried, and I did not have the power. It was the power of the Holy Spirit recorded in Romans 5:5, “… because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us” (KJV).

Points to Ponder

Is it possible that what we bind, or loose, is not found in church discipline or the censure of others, but the capacity of our own hearts to forgive?


Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect. For by the grace given to me I say to everyone among you not to think of yourself more highly than you ought to think, but to think with sober judgment, each according to the measure of faith that God has assigned. (Romans 12:2-3)