Preached at St Mary’s, Potterne
Romans 13.8–14; Matthew 18.15–20
“if the offender refuses to listen even to the church, let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector.”
“…the one who loves another has fulfilled the law.” So writes St Paul in this morning’s epistle. Isn’t that lovely? Christianity is all about love and nothing more. I could stop preaching now, you could all go home deciding to be even more loving than you already are, because that’s what Christianity is about, and we could all live happily ever after.
But, wait, maybe it isn’t that simple. Jesus says, “if the offender refuses to listen even to the church, let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector.” Cut them off! Treat them like one of those thugs who abuse their position with the government to extort money from law-abiding people! That’s what Jesus says.
So, clearly, it isn’t just as simple as saying love one another and that’s it. How do we resolve St Paul’s commitment to love as the absolute standard of the law with Christ seeming to put hard limits on forgiveness when reasoned persuasion has failed?
One thing to bear in mind is that our Gospel reading is set towards the end of Jesus’ time of preaching and teaching in Galilee. He is about to make His final journey towards Jerusalem. He is starting to teach His followers things that will matter when He is no longer with them. Their lives have already been transformed by His work of preaching and healing, and they will later be transformed further by His Resurrection and the coming of the Holy Spirit.
But they’re still people, with the normal run of human failings. People don’t always see eye to eye. They don’t always agree on what the most loving way to behave is. And then they all get tempted by greed, and laziness, and need for status, and taking others for granted; and they still have the frustrating moments of failing to live up to their principles that we’re all familiar with.
Jesus sets out how Christians should behave when they don’t see eye to eye, when they feel that another Christian has wronged them. First, we are to discuss the matter with them privately; ideally, that should be enough for two people who claim, as Christians, to love one another to reach some sort of understanding. But if that fails, we are told to escalate things, initially by bringing one or two others with us as witnesses, and only if that fails, to involve the whole congregation. And if that fails, that’s where the bit about treating the person who has sinned against you like a tax collector comes in.
Here’s some more context: just before this morning’s reading starts, Jesus’ closest followers have demonstrated that they’ll always be flawed when they come to Jesus and ask who will be greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven. Still seeking status and getting one up on other people, despite everything Jesus taught and showed them. Clearly this new Church isn’t going to magic the human race’s problems away. And just after it ends, Peter asks Jesus, “if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive?” and Jesus replies, “Not seven times, but … seventy-seven times.” That bit is the start of next Sunday’s Gospel, so I shouldn’t crash into it in advance.
These escalating steps in this morning’s Gospel are a means of giving people space to see reason – judgement is not something Christians should ever engage in lightly. But even if these steps fail, the door isn’t closed forever. Remember, if Jesus is telling us to treat someone like a Gentile or a tax collector – Jesus eats with tax collectors and heals the loved ones of Gentiles when they ask Him to. Our door should always be open to reconciliation in the fullness of time. And here’s the really hard part – it may be the person whom we’ve dismissed as a sinner who turns out to have been right all along: the Gospels are full of examples of sinners, tax collectors, and Gentiles turning out to be right while those who assumed they were close to God couldn’t even see the problem.
For we are ourselves flawed people who have sometimes wronged others gravely. The Church is a collection of flawed people – as I’m sure you’ve noticed before now – called to love and forgive one another. And we need one another. This morning’s Gospel also supplies part of the answer to why we can’t just follow Jesus’ teachings on our own without being part of the Church. Notice how one of the steps Jesus outlines is to take one or two other people with us as witnesses when we challenge fellow Christians who’ve wronged us. None of us is a very good judge of what has happened when we feel we’ve just been wronged and are full of hurt and usually full of self-righteousness too. We are all capable of selective readings of the facts to suit our own self-interest. If we really seek to lead good lives, then we need other people to keep us on the straight and narrow – we need the Church.
More than that, as well as each of us here needing the Church, each of us here is needed by the Church, because the work of building Christian lives is often done in twos and threes, among close friends who trust one another’s judgement and know one another well enough to both give and receive frank advice. All of us need good friends who can get us to climb off our high horses when we’re full of wounded pride and legitimately hurt feelings – and all of us need to be willing to be those good and trusted friends also.
Now, while Jesus discusses what to do when your neighbour does wrong to you, Paul says love does no wrong to a neighbour. Jesus deals with the nitty-gritty of living as a Christian in a fallen world; Paul restates the great principle to point us towards eternal life. The night is far gone and the day is near. Our salvation is indeed nearer at hand than when we first believed. If we keep faith with Christ, we are being drawn towards the fulfilment of our salvation, when we shall know and love God perfectly.
Forgiving is sometimes hard work – sometimes we really are wronged, badly, by people who are supposed to be our fellow Christians but who have behaved towards us in utterly un-Christlike ways. I’m sure we’ve all had that experience. But we do that hard work of forgiving, knowing that we are already being called towards our fullest and truest selves in heaven.
In fact, the whole of our lives should be lived in the light of our eternity. That’s why St Paul writes, “let us live honourably”, not consumed with the pleasures of the flesh or trapped in quarrelling and jealousy, but understanding that the hard work of forgiving, and of loving, is what builds us up to be perfected by God when time has fulfilled its purpose and we are in eternity.
The hard work of loving in this world makes us fit for an eternity of love. Live in light. Live in love. Christianity is that simple in principle, and also that hard in practice – so hard, that we all need the friendship and love that we find in the Church to make an honest attempt at it.
And now to God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit, be ascribed all might, majesty, dominion, and power, as is most justly His due, now and for evermore. Amen.