In a case of life echoing Bible, I found myself at the gas pump yesterday getting grilled on the same question that Jesus faces in today’s Gospel: “By what authority are you doing these things, and who gave you this authority?” As a woman priest, there is not a day that goes by where someone doesn’t throw up this challenge to me. Sometimes it is not actually directed at me personally but at women in general, like a blog post from someone whose scriptural interpretation is more literal than mine. But there are times when it is personal … like yesterday at the gas station. I received a call that one of our parishioners was rushed to the emergency room and I had to stop for gas and a big cup of coffee (yeah, it was one of those days!). As I was pumping the gas into my car, a man younger than me was at the next pump and, looking over and seeing me in my clerical collar, he said, “Excuse me … are you … uh … a … uh … minister?” I answered, “Yes. I am an Episcopal priest.” He said, “I have a question for you, if you don’t mind.” I told him I didn’t mind and to go ahead. He said, “What exactly do you make of 1st Timothy 2:12? I mean, as a priest and all, what do you make of that? I’m not trying to troll you or anything, I just want to know.” My first hint of trouble was that he was trying too hard to convince me he wasn’t trying to troll me! Now for those of you not familiar with 1st Timothy 2:12, it reads: “I do not permit a woman to teach or have authority over men. They are to keep silent.”

I explained that the Bible was written 2,000 years ago in the Roman Empire and my approach to Scripture is that of an historical critical hermeneutic (or lens) which calls me to read it in light of the culture in which it was written and, through communal prayer, discern its application for today. He conceded that we don’t interpret the Scripture passage about slavery the same as we once did … but then went right back to what appeared to be his literal interpretation of 1st Timothy 2:12. It was clear he had his mind made up – who was I to think I should be ordained? By what authority did I dare do this?? When someone comes at us with this kind of question, it might be because we’ve overstepped our bounds but more likely it is meant as a challenge or an attempt to undermine our authority in a given situation.

Chronologically, this reading happens after Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem … it is Holy Week and Jesus is on the way to the cross. It is the perfect setting for the questioning of his authority and its origins. This question asked by the Pharisees reminds us of the nature of authority and why it is different from power. Although we often speak of them interchangeably, they are not the same thing. Power is the sheer ability to force something to be done. Authority, on the other hand, is power which is given, directed and limited to achieve certain goals. We might think of authority as power which is granted by others and rightly directed for mutual benefit.

Authority is always given and it comes from two different sources. Those of us who have any kind of credentials know this. As we honor our first responders today, your uniform is a sign and symbol of a particular authority granted you by your local jurisdiction to use your power in a limited, directed way for the benefit of our communities. But your real authority doesn’t lie in the uniform or the badge. Your real authority also comes from the people you serve – the trust of the community for you to act on their behalf. The same is true for me as clergy. I may have the Masters of Divinity degree and be ordained by a bishop in apostolic succession, but if the congregation here doesn’t also grant me authority, then my ability to lead the mission and ministry here is non-existent. Authority, then, comes both from the “powers on high” above us and wells up from below.

This leads us to the question of to whom do you give authority and why? Sometimes the answer is obvious. There are people to whom we must grant authority, that limited, directed power to influence us for a particular reason in order to function well in society. However, in many if not most cases, we have a choice to grant authority to another person and sometimes we give authority to people who don’t deserve it! Consider this example: how many of us have told someone in our lives that they made us mad? Yeah, we’ve all done that, right? But think of it this way, when I tell another person they are responsible for my emotional process, I am giving them authority over my emotions instead of taking responsibility for them myself. As a priest, let me tell you there are a lot of people who want to make me responsible for their emotions! This doesn’t mean that we cannot be angry with or hurt by people when they wound us by their actions. What is within our capacity to decide is how we regard this person and their actions over time. If we hold onto those feelings of anger and hurt for so long that they turn into grudges and resentments, then we have given the other person the authority to hold our life hostage. We are giving them the authority to dominate and control our lives and our futures.

This background sets the stage for a deceptively simple yet simultaneously complex parable. A man has two sons and tells them to go work in the vineyard. The second son says he’ll do it and doesn’t – what parent cannot sympathize with that? The first son, who is the focus of the parable, says he will not go and then changes his mind and goes. It doesn’t really matter what his motivations were in refusing to do what his father told him to do. What matters is that he didn’t have to be tied to his original decision – he had the freedom to change his mind and, in so doing, he changed his course of action to be in alignment with his father’s desires. He didn’t let the bad choice of saying “no” to his father’s request hold him back from doing the right thing and in so doing he chooses a different future. In other words, his past action does not determine his future outcome!

This is the nature of the argument with the Pharisees in this moment. The Pharisees are mired in their past – their traditions, Scriptural interpretations, temple worship – which has given them authority. Instead of being bound by their past, Jesus is inviting them into a future which opens the possibilities of life, grace and healing. The Pharisees don’t want to accept this invitation – they have a great investment in the status quo and the systems which conferred their authority. But Jesus knows that the religious and political systems are not working to redeem all of God’s people – especially the down and out who are personified by the reference to tax collectors and prostitutes. Those whom the system has failed are the ones like the first son who do the will of the father precisely because they are not held hostage to a past which has excluded them.

Jesus makes this very same promise to us today. No matter what has happened to us or what we have done, we always have the ability to make the choice to step into a future that is aligned with God’s life giving redemptive love. We are more than the sum total of what has happened to us or what we have done. We need not submit to the authority of those people and situations from our past that are dealing in death and holding us back from a full life and a free future. Letting go of the past, taking back that authority and walking into a free and unknown future is scary … really scary. We often drag our dysfunctional pasts with us precisely because they are familiar. Letting these things go, taking away their authority to tyrannize your future away is a kind of spiritual and emotional death – the death of a dead past and the death of part of your identity. It will take you to the cross just as breaking with the past took Jesus to one too; however, the promise of that open future is the resurrected life beyond the cross.

So I ask you this day to look at your life. Where are you harboring past resentments and why do those people still claim authority over you? Who or what is holding you back from the open future Christ promises you? What do you most regret about what you have done and have not yet released? Is it time to strip all of these things of the authority you’ve given them so that you can walk into an open future in confidence that you are beloved of God no matter what? Lay these down, put them away, give them over to God and trust in the grace and mercy poured out for you at this time, in this place, at this altar. Give them over as your offering and accept the invitation of Christ in Bread and Wine, his Body and Blood, as a pledge and promise for your future … now and always.

A Sufi saint, on pilgrimage to Mecca, having completed the prescribed religious practices, knelt down and touched his forehead to the ground and prayed: “Allah! I have only one desire in life. Give me the grace of never offending you again.” When the All-Merciful heard this he laughed aloud and said, “That's what they all ask for. But if I granted everyone this grace, tell me, who would I forgive?”

“Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive?” Peter’s question comes on the heels of Jesus’ teaching from last week which gave a directive about conflict resolution. In it, he told his disciples that if a member of the church sins against you, you should speak to them in private about the matter to settle it. If they acknowledge their fault and you can reconcile well and good, but if they don’t, you are to go with two or three so that you will have witnesses and attempt to resolve the conflict. If that doesn’t work, you take it to the church … and if even that does not work, you are to treat the person as if they are a Gentile and a tax collector – in essence, treat them as utter strangers and walk away. Today we hear the follow up question related to conflict – what is the role of forgiveness?

The problem with Peter’s question is in his approach. Peter has bound up his understanding of forgiveness in terms of legalism, framing the question as a way to find out what he legally must do to cover his bases: “How often should I forgive? As many as seven times?” You know it’s, “Come on Jesus, just give me a number, tell me the rules, what hoops I need to jump through and I’m in the game.” Jesus’s ridiculous answer of “seventy-seven,” other translations say “seventy times seven,” tells us Peter isn’t asking the right question because forgiveness isn’t about quantity – it is a matter of quality. It’s not “how much?” but “how well?”

The parable that follows goes on to illustrate what Jesus means. He tells the story of a king settling debts with his slaves. One slave owed him 10,000 talents. One talent was equivalent to 15 years of a day laborer’s wages. This means he owed the king 150,000 years of labor – clearly an impossible debt to settle! The second slave mentioned owed the first 100 denarii – about 100 day’s wages. Now this is still no small debt, but one which could reasonably be paid down. So how could this slave, who had been released from an impossible debt turn around and be unforgiving of a relatively small one?

I think the reason is found in our very human penchant for legalism and keeping score – especially of the wrongs done to us. Ever notice how we don’t seem to keep track of the good things done for us but instead we keep a meticulous ledger balance of the hurts and wounds inflicted by others? Some of this is natural – it is our survival instinct. When we are hurt we naturally don’t want to repeat that experience, do we? But our memories often go long beyond the wrong done to us and often turn into seething resentments which are toxic and can spill over into other relationships far beyond the one in which the grievance took place. Left to our own devices, our ledger books become heavy with entries because when we are wronged, we want to get even and punish. This is grounded in our love of legalism.

The law is necessary because it sets the metes and bounds for how to relate to others. But there is something the law cannot do: it cannot require us to love each other. I can follow the letter of the law in relating to another and still hate them with all my heart. The law can never command us to love.

Our Lord’s answer to Peter makes it clear that bean-counting and score keeping isn’t what forgiveness is about because forgiveness is the fruit of love. It is, in fact, the brutally hard work of love. You wouldn’t ask “How many times must I love?” would you? Of course not, because love isn’t about quantity – it is about quality. The question isn’t “how many times must I love?” but “how well can I love?” The same is true of forgiveness. The question isn’t “how many times must I forgive?” but rather “how well and how completely can I forgive?”

This isn’t to say there is no place for boundaries and law when it comes to being in right relationship. Forgiveness does not mean you must be a doormat and allow others to walk all over you committing wrong after wrong, abusively beating you down and robbing you of your human dignity. No! In those cases, you may need to both forgive and simultaneously leave the relationship. This doesn’t mean you stop loving the other person – but it does mean you love from a safe distance. In fact, sometimes the most loving and forgiving thing you can do is to walk away and stop the abusive behavior.

There are always two dimensions of our lives. One is the dimension of law which gives us limits and accountability. The other is the dimension of our being – how we regard ourselves and others as worthy of dignity and love as children of God. This brings us to the rather harsh ending of this parable where the king hands his servant over to be tortured until the debt is paid. I don’t believe this is a punishment from the king. Instead, I believe the king is merely allowing the slave to live in the hell of his own score keeping game until the end of time … or until he can forgive.

Forgiveness is a decision we make about the past. It is both an acknowledgement that we cannot change the past but also that the past will not hold our future in captivity to the rancor and bitterness of resentment. When you forgive, you release your past and are able to face the future in freedom. When you do not forgive, you hold your future in captivity until the end of time. But make no mistake, this doesn’t mean forgiveness can be forced or compelled. Forgiveness, like love, is a gift. We can pray for it and for the ability to forgive – especially for those from whom we are estranged or who have died – so that we may face an open and free future of a resurrected life in Christ.

All of us struggle to forgive and each of us has at least one person we find it hard, even impossible, to forgive. Of our own power, we cannot do it – it is a gift of the Spirit, just as love is a gift. And it isn’t a question of “how much?” or “how many?” but rather “how well?”

“For it’s one, two, three strikes you’re out … at the old ball game!” Any baseball fan knows the Seventh Inning Stretch song, right? It’s so ubiquitous that the concept of “three strikes, you’re out” has translated into our language – and even into the judicial system with “three strikes laws.” The basis for the idea of getting three chances comes from our Gospel reading today – which is really about a process for conflict resolution.

Jesus speaks about what happens when a member of the church sins against you. Now the word “sin” in this context is best understood as when a member violates your boundaries. This isn’t about giving members of the church permission to be judge and jury over the behavior of other regardless of whether it personally affects them or not. Too many people have used the Bible as an excuse to think it’s their job to sit in the judgment seat – and that in itself is the sin of self-righteousness. What he’s really talking about is when someone does something to you which causes real and serious emotional, spiritual or physical harm - the kind of stuff that breaches trust and threatens your wellbeing.

Jesus gives us an outline of conflict resolution with the hope of reconciliation embedded within it. He says if a member of the church sins against you go to that person in private and talk to them about it. If that doesn’t work and the offense continues, then go to the person with two or three others as witnesses. If that doesn’t work and the offense continues, then you take it to the Church. Finally, when all else fails, walk away from the relationship and they are to be as a “Gentile and a tax collector” to you. Now admittedly words like “Gentile” and “tax collector” don’t have the same meaning to us as they did in first century Palestine. Gentiles were not “bad guys” with whom Jews never interacted. Rather the term Gentile is synonymous with “one who does not know God” and tax collectors were the extortionists and shake down artists of their day who exploited the people. So Jesus is essentially saying you can walk away from the person abusing you and consider them as one who is inappropriately exploiting you and does not know God.

Notice that Jesus recommends starting off with a one-on-one conversation to see if the amends can be made in private. That is an ideal. I can tell you that, in my experience, going alone to confront someone who has sinned against you isn’t always advisable – especially if there are physical or emotional threats to your safety. I had a work situation in the past where I had to confront a fellow chaplain about his open hostility towards me and my ministry (he didn’t believe women should be ordained). He was over six feet tall and muscular, weighing in at about 200 pounds. I’m five feet five inches tall and, although I am in good physical shape, 115 pounds of me was no match if he blew up at me. Given his hostility and behavior towards me, I did feel a sense of personal threat. In that case, I insisted my supervisor be present for my meeting with him and the issues were resolved. Clearly, if you have been in an abusive situation, Christ would not recommend putting yourself in harm’s way! But the point is that Jesus advises a process with appropriate and measured escalation. He wouldn’t tell us today, “If a member of the church sins against you go out and tell everyone in town what that jerk did and make sure you post it all over Facebook and Tweet it for good measure.” No … we are to start small to re-establish our boundaries.

Paul’s wrote to the Romans that all we owe one another is love and that love is the fulfillment of the law. Love does not wrong others. But we are human and we screw up. We do not act in loving ways and we hurt each other. Ideally, when we hurt others we seek forgiveness and reconciliation that we may be one which is our hope in Christ Jesus. But we know this doesn’t always happen. There are those whose egos cannot admit their wrongdoing and who persist in inflicting wounds on others. Jesus’ words to us are not meant to be a punishment.

Forgiveness and reconciliation are our common hope in Christ. But repentance, a turning around of the mind and heart, are necessary for reconciliation to take place. Three strikes and you’re out sounds punitive but remember, in another part of Matthew’s gospel, Jesus is asked about how many times one should forgive – and the answer was “not seven times but seventy times seven.” Episcopal priest and author Dennis Maynard in his book Forgive And Get Your Life Back describes the process of forgiveness and reconciliation in three steps: forgiveness, reconciliation, and restoration. Forgiveness is the first step and is necessary for us to let go of the wrongs done us and move on without rancor or bitterness. Therefore, forgiveness is to be without limits. But, this does not mean that you must re-establish a relationship with a person. That is the next step of reconciliation – re-establishing some kind of renegotiated relationship with the person who harmed you. The relationship is never reset back to where it was before the offense occurred. In the case of a person who harms you and does not acknowledge their responsibility, you may forgive them and not reconcile. Again, Christ does not demand you tolerate abuse. The final step is restoration which is typified in the parable of the Prodigal Son. You may forgive and reconcile with someone but you may or may not restore them to their prior place in your life.

We are broken human beings and Jesus’ words to us today remind us we live in a sin-sick world where people will hurt you. Living amidst this mess is something we all face and setting boundaries is necessary for us – for our personal safety as well as the safety of the community. But our true hope is that Christ’s crucified Body is able to hold together and reconcile all of the broken and bleeding pieces of our lives and our relationships, even when we cannot.