Spirit of mercy, Spirit of truth
John 20: 19-23
When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’ After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, ‘Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.’ When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.’
By Rhododendrites - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=90810366
Forgiveness is an absolutely central concept for Christian living. The life of Jesus is one of abundant forgiveness: he forgives throughout his ministry as he encounters the sins of many different people, from all walks of life. When asked how often Christians should forgive one another (as Peter suggests incredulously, as many as seven times?!), he responds: "not seven times but, I tell you, seventy-seven times". The prayer which Jesus taught us asks God to 'forgive our sins, as we forgive those who have sinned against us'. Even while hanging on the cross, Jesus asks for forgiveness for those who have condemned him to death: "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing".
Living a life of forgiveness also includes allowing ourselves to be forgiven - not just by God, but by each other. Forgiveness is mutual: we try our best to give it, and we try our best to receive it. Through this mutuality, forgiveness can be a recognition of our shared human dignity and can help to build up and sustain our common life together. As Rowan Williams notes in Being Disciples, "forgiveness is one of the most radical ways in which we are able to nourish one another's humanity".
So far so good. But when Jesus appears to his disciples on the day of Pentecost, the life-giving Spirit which he brings gives the disciples a role of which forgiveness is only one part: "If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained". Given all the emphasis on forgiveness in the life and ministry of Jesus, what can it mean for the disciples to retain the sins of anyone - to refuse to extend their forgiveness?
The well-known quote from Matthew 18 which I mentioned above - "not seven times but, I tell you, seventy-seven times" - is followed by what's often termed 'The Parable of the Unforgiving Servant'. In this story, a master forgives a servant who owes him 10,000 talents - but as the servant leaves, he encounters a fellow servant who owes him 1,000 talents. He refuses to forgive the debt of his fellow servant, and has him imprisoned. When the master hears about it, he summons the servant back and brings retribution upon him.
For me, the power dynamics in this parable are notable: in the initial exchange, the servant is (passively) forgiven but the master (actively) forgives. Here, the servant owed a debt to the master. But imagine if there were an unacknowledged debt in reverse: if the master owed the servant money, or some other resource that the servant needed to live, should the servant be expected to forgive?
Our society very much mirrors the power imbalances implicit in talk of 'masters' and 'servants'. Amid calls for a universal basic income in the face of the COVID-19 crisis, this pandemic is disproportionately affecting low-paid workers, in terms of both their health and income. Millions of people in the UK are expected to slip through the cracks in the wage subsidy plan and benefit system set up by the government. Meanwhile, as campaigners urge the government to consider a 'housing first' approach, concerns remain over the funding of temporary accommodation for rough sleepers across the country.
When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’ After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, ‘Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.’ When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.’
By Rhododendrites - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=90810366
Forgiveness is an absolutely central concept for Christian living. The life of Jesus is one of abundant forgiveness: he forgives throughout his ministry as he encounters the sins of many different people, from all walks of life. When asked how often Christians should forgive one another (as Peter suggests incredulously, as many as seven times?!), he responds: "not seven times but, I tell you, seventy-seven times". The prayer which Jesus taught us asks God to 'forgive our sins, as we forgive those who have sinned against us'. Even while hanging on the cross, Jesus asks for forgiveness for those who have condemned him to death: "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing".
Living a life of forgiveness also includes allowing ourselves to be forgiven - not just by God, but by each other. Forgiveness is mutual: we try our best to give it, and we try our best to receive it. Through this mutuality, forgiveness can be a recognition of our shared human dignity and can help to build up and sustain our common life together. As Rowan Williams notes in Being Disciples, "forgiveness is one of the most radical ways in which we are able to nourish one another's humanity".
So far so good. But when Jesus appears to his disciples on the day of Pentecost, the life-giving Spirit which he brings gives the disciples a role of which forgiveness is only one part: "If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained". Given all the emphasis on forgiveness in the life and ministry of Jesus, what can it mean for the disciples to retain the sins of anyone - to refuse to extend their forgiveness?
The well-known quote from Matthew 18 which I mentioned above - "not seven times but, I tell you, seventy-seven times" - is followed by what's often termed 'The Parable of the Unforgiving Servant'. In this story, a master forgives a servant who owes him 10,000 talents - but as the servant leaves, he encounters a fellow servant who owes him 1,000 talents. He refuses to forgive the debt of his fellow servant, and has him imprisoned. When the master hears about it, he summons the servant back and brings retribution upon him.
For me, the power dynamics in this parable are notable: in the initial exchange, the servant is (passively) forgiven but the master (actively) forgives. Here, the servant owed a debt to the master. But imagine if there were an unacknowledged debt in reverse: if the master owed the servant money, or some other resource that the servant needed to live, should the servant be expected to forgive?
Our society very much mirrors the power imbalances implicit in talk of 'masters' and 'servants'. Amid calls for a universal basic income in the face of the COVID-19 crisis, this pandemic is disproportionately affecting low-paid workers, in terms of both their health and income. Millions of people in the UK are expected to slip through the cracks in the wage subsidy plan and benefit system set up by the government. Meanwhile, as campaigners urge the government to consider a 'housing first' approach, concerns remain over the funding of temporary accommodation for rough sleepers across the country.
Riots are currently taking place in Minnesota, as a Black man named George Floyd was suffocated to death by a police officer, who knelt on his neck even as he gasped 'I can't breathe'. This horrific event is just one among countless others. It is just one example of the relentless abuse and murder of the Black community in the US at the hands of the police, which is itself a symptom of the racism and systematic discrimination which our Black siblings face in white-majority cultures, including both the US and the UK.
These stories are snapshots of the devastating consequences of injustice, the grotesque misuse of human power. In these situations, as Richard Rohr writes, "What humanity really needs is an honest exposure of the truth and accountability for what has happened. Only then can human beings move ahead with dignity. Hurt needs to be spoken and heard. It does not just go away on its own." As a recent tweet which I read put it: "Stop using sermons of peace and forgiveness, in order to manipulate the oppressed into accepting their oppression". The mutual forgiveness that we long for can only happen when our lives each reflect the equal dignity of the other.
These stories are snapshots of the devastating consequences of injustice, the grotesque misuse of human power. In these situations, as Richard Rohr writes, "What humanity really needs is an honest exposure of the truth and accountability for what has happened. Only then can human beings move ahead with dignity. Hurt needs to be spoken and heard. It does not just go away on its own." As a recent tweet which I read put it: "Stop using sermons of peace and forgiveness, in order to manipulate the oppressed into accepting their oppression". The mutual forgiveness that we long for can only happen when our lives each reflect the equal dignity of the other.
The need for both mercy and accountability is captured in the words of Psalm 85, "Mercy and truth have met together". The forgiveness which we all so desperately need to give and receive must meet with the truth, which exposes the injustices of our world and asks those who hold power to take responsibility. This meeting of mercy and truth is a gentle one: it happens alongside that of righteousness and peace, which kiss each other. This meeting is also a healing one: together these two blessings bring a justice which is restorative and not retributive, which heals the wounds inflicted by sin and does not punish people for their wrongdoing.
Perhaps it is this healing that Jesus brings his disciples in the upper room when he says, "Peace be with you". And perhaps this healing, this restorative justice, is also the gift of the Holy Spirit which we yearn for today. It is this life-giving Spirit which will surely guide us in the dance between mercy and truth, as we aim to live as disciples of Christ. May the Spirit fill us this Pentecost with both the mercy to forgive, and the wisdom and courage that we need to expose uncomfortable truths: to expose the sins which cruelly abuse and destroy the lives of oppressed peoples around the world.
Perhaps it is this healing that Jesus brings his disciples in the upper room when he says, "Peace be with you". And perhaps this healing, this restorative justice, is also the gift of the Holy Spirit which we yearn for today. It is this life-giving Spirit which will surely guide us in the dance between mercy and truth, as we aim to live as disciples of Christ. May the Spirit fill us this Pentecost with both the mercy to forgive, and the wisdom and courage that we need to expose uncomfortable truths: to expose the sins which cruelly abuse and destroy the lives of oppressed peoples around the world.
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