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Continue readingLightly Held
The first reading today is from St. Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians. This is one of those Pauline passages that can sound rather alarming: “Let those having wives act as not having them, those weeping as not weeping, those rejoicing as not rejoicing…” (1 Cor 7:29–30). What are we supposed to make of that? What we are supposed to do is to first ensure we understand the context.
Paul is responding to questions the Corinthians themselves had apparently sent Paul: “Now in regard to the matters about which you wrote…” (7:1). Marriage, celibacy, sexual relations, divorce, remarriage, and one’s state in life all appear in the chapter. At the beginning of our text, Paul turns his attention to the unmarried and explicitly distinguishes his pastoral judgment from a direct command of the Lord: “I have no commandment of the Lord, but I give my opinion…” (v.25) And then come the context: “because of the present distress” (v. 26). Exactly what Paul means by that distress is debated. It could include concrete hardships or persecution, but Paul’s argument clearly also has an eschatological dimension. Paul and the earliest Christians lived with an intense expectation that Christ’s return could be near: “I tell you, brothers, the time is running out” (v.29).
In that light, Paul’s pastoral advice is essentially: don’t make major changes merely for the sake of changing your status. Live faithfully where you are, because everything belongs to a larger reality that God is bringing to fulfillment. He repeats the phrase “as not.” He admonished the people to live married though as not married (so, too weeping, rejoicing, owning). He’s saying don’t allow anything belonging to this passing world to become absolute. Grief is real but grief doesn’t have the final word. Joy is real but earthly happiness isn’t the fullness of Christian hope. Possessions have legitimate uses but they don’t ultimately belong to us. Marriage matters enormously but even marriage isn’t eternal in precisely its present form. The world is good but this present configuration of the world isn’t God’s finished creation.
What might all this mean for us? I don’t think most of us are living with an intense expectation of Jesus’ immediate return. I’d offer that Paul’s lesson for us is to live with a degree of detachment without disengagement. Consider times when we have turned to career, money, health, possessions, relationships and other things in our plans. None of these things is necessarily bad. Many are very good.
Paul isn’t saying don’t seek these things out or enjoy them, he is saying don’t ask them to bear the weight of fulfillment that only God can bear. Hold these things, but hold them lightly.
Love your spouse deeply but recognize that your spouse is God’s gift, not your possession. Enjoy what God gives you but don’t build your identity upon having it. Grieve who you lose but don’t believe that who death has taken is therefore lost forever. Use possessions without letting them possess you. Participate fully in the world but remember that this world in its present form is passing away. That produces a distinctively Christian way of living: fully engaged, but not ultimately attached; deeply interested and not indifferent.
Maybe a way to understand Paul’s point is to ask yourself: What am I holding so tightly that I have forgotten it was given to me by God? If we hold things lightly, in almost an open hand, perhaps we will remember the gift we have received.
And I hope that in those moments we realize that everything can be loved, everything passes away but only God can be loved as though He will never pass away.
Image credit: Saint Paul Writing His Epistles |attributed to Valentin de Boulogne | Houston Museum of Fine Arts| PD-US.
Parable of the Debtors
This coming Sunday is the 24th Sunday in Ordinary Time. 23 That is why the kingdom of heaven may be likened to a king who decided to settle accounts with his servants. The parable which makes up most of the rest of the discourse underlines the principle of unrestricted forgiveness which Jesus has just enunciated. Most of Matthew’s parables are introduced as illustrations of “the kingdom of heaven” (13:11, 24, 31, 33, 44, 45, 47, 52; 20:1; 22:2; 25:1). Here that formula is especially appropriate, since the parable concerns a king and his subjects: this then is how God rules. That application of the story will be made explicit in v. 35: the king’s action represents how “my heavenly Father” will deal with you.
The second part of Jesus’ dialogue, in response to Peter’s question, is a long parable, enforced with a brief explanatory comment in v. 35. In short, the parable is a comparison of God’s operation of forgiveness and ours. Because there is no limit to God’s generosity to his undeserving people, they in turn cannot claim the right to withhold forgiveness from their fellow-disciples. A community of the forgiven must be a forgiving community.
The parable is about a king and his slaves in order to explain how the kingship of God operates: 23 That is why the kingdom of heaven may be likened to a king who decided to settle accounts with his servants. The NAB translates doulos as servants. To be clear, these are not employed persons; they are owned. In the ancient world slaves, while not free to determine their own lives or to offer their service to anyone but their owner, could become highly responsible and trusted members of the household; a king’s slaves might hold positions of authority which today might be taken by civil servants, but they are at best indentured servants. I make this point to underscore the points made later on in the parable.
The parable’s characters are clear. The actions of the king in the parable indicate that he is to be identified with God. He demands a reckoning (v. 23), is approached as lord (v. 26), and shows great mercy in writing off the huge debt (v. 27). Yet the merciless servant failed to learn from the example of the king, and his cruelty toward his fellow servants results in the revocation of his own forgiveness (vv. 28–34).
Note the use of the term “fellow servant” (vv.28,29,31,33) makes it clear that these servants form a community as do the disciples of Christ. The parable assumes that disciples are, by definition, forgiven people. It makes it unmistakably clear that the initiative is with God: it is because he has first forgiven that we can be expected, and indeed enabled, to forgive. It is with the compassion that disciples have been forgiven that they are expected to show that same compassion in forgiving others.
As France [703] notes, the parable is in the tradition of the prophet Nathan’s parable of the ewe-lamb (2 Sam 12:1–7) told to King David. David reacts with indignation at the injustice of Nathan’s parable and wants the villain punished. It is then that Nathan reveals the villain as he tells David, “You are the man!” In this same way, we the listener of Jesus’ parable was heartened when we hear the unforgiving servant get his just desserts in v.34, only to be brought up short in v.35 to know that “We are that man!”
It should be noted that the language herein will echo the “Lord’s Prayer” in Mt 6:12, “and forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.” The parable in Mt 18 picks up that same language using “debt” for the sin which needs to be forgiven. This parable thus spells out what Jesus has stated in a stark propositional form in his comment on 6:12 in 6:14–15, that forgiveness must be reciprocal, so that God cannot be expected to forgive the unforgiving. It should also be noted that the imagery of the settling of accounts is not meant to represent the last judgment but forgiveness that has already taken place. But the forgiveness we have already received may be forfeited by our failure to forgive in our turn. It was freely given, but it must not be presumed on. The parable often has the effect on listeners of blending our natural fear of punishment with the more fundamental motive of gratitude and imitation of the grace of God.
Image credit: Raphael, Handing-over the Keys, 1515, Victoria and Albert Museum, London | Public Domain
How much forgiveness?
This coming Sunday is the 24th Sunday in Ordinary Time. As mentioned in the previous post, we are in a part of Matthew’s gospel in which the focus is forming the community of disciples for their post-Resurrection mission to the world. Jesus has just finished speaking to the disciples about what to do if a brother sins against them. The verses leading up to our passage (vv.15-20) outline the manner in which the individual and the faith community are to deal with the incorrigible members caught in the life of sin. The focus of the teaching is about forgiveness, reconciliation, and doing what is needed to bring the brother back to the community and the fullness of the Faith.
Our gospel follows upon the “last resort” in dealing with his individual, which the earlier approaches have been designed to avoid. To “tell the church” in the first centuries was often a public statement when the community is gathered, something inevitable if the problem is not solved in conversation. The object of the gathering is not to pronounce judgment but to strengthen the pastoral appeal, in the hope that the offender may yet “listen” (akouo). The offender, faced by the disapproval of the whole local disciple community, ought surely to recognize that this was not just a personal grievance on the part of the initiator. Anyone who is not willing to accept such united testimony may then properly be regarded as no longer a fit member of the community. “You” (singular, referring to the individual who raised the issue, not, at least explicitly, to the community as a whole) should then treat them as “a Gentile and a tax-collector.” While the term excommunication raises all manner of concern, for indeed by their refusing the offered guidance from the church, they have place themselves “outside the fellowship,” but they are also people for whom the church had a special concern to bring them gospel so that they might repent and become part of the fellowship again.
21 Then Peter approaching asked him, “Lord, if my brother sins against me, how often must I forgive him? As many as seven times?”22 Jesus answered, “I say to you, not seven times but seventy-seven times.
Now the discourse turns to the more ordinary experience of forgiveness and reconciliation within the community. One should note that the passage begins with the same sense as 18:15 – a brother or sister has sinned against another member of the community. In this case, however, the person listened to the individual, group or the church and (presumably is seeking reconciliation) – but what is this is a recidivist person, continually seeking reconciliation for the same transgression. How many times should such a person be forgiven? Once again Peter serves as the spokesman for the group and gives what he imagines to be conventional or perhaps a very generous answer to his own question: seven times (v.21).
If Peter’s reply in convention, Jesus’ opening response, “I say to you…” echoes the language of the Sermon on the Mount in which Jesus says, “you have heard it said, but I say to you” indicating there is a new wisdom, a new convention, a new teaching – leaving the righteousness of the Pharisees and scribes behind. Jesus corrects Peter and answers: seventy-seven times. The increase from seven to seventy-seven echoes the boast of Lamech in Gen 4:24: “If Cain is avenged sevenfold [cf. Gen 4:13], then Lamech seventy-sevenfold.” The reference to Cain gives added points to the concept of forgiving a “brother.” Jesus’ referent is that the disciple must be as extravagant in forgiving as Lamech was in taking vengeance. The point is that Christians are not to place a limit on forgiveness.
“Some commentators notice a tension between vv. 21–22 with their demand for unlimited forgiveness and vv. 15–17 where the end-result may be a breaking off of relationships. But that tension is caused by including the phrase “against you” in v. 15 (see p. 689, n. 3) and so failing to see that the subject has now changed. There is no incompatibility between a robust pastoral concern over another disciple’s sin and willingness to forgive offences against oneself. Verses 15–17 are about how to prevent the loss of a member of the disciple community; vv. 21–22 are about the danger of allowing personal animosity to poison that community. In vv. 15–17 the concern is with the spiritual wellbeing of the offending member; in vv. 21–22 it is with the willingness of the individual not to insist on his or her own right to redress. In each case the “sin” is assumed to be real and culpable, but in the first case what is considered is the effect on the sinner, in the second case the response of the one sinned against.” [France, 699-700]
Some translations render the underlying Greek as “seventy times seven” (i.e. 490 times, e.g. KJV). That rendering is a literal reproduction of the underlying Greek. Its translation here is determined by the clear allusion to Gen 4:24, where the same phrase in the LXX translates the Hebrew “seventy-seven.” But in any case, this is the language of hyperbole, not of calculation. Those who are concerned as to whether the figure should be 77 or 490 have missed the point. The benchmark is provided by the unimaginable scale of God’s forgiveness of his people illustrated in the parable to follow (vv. 24–27). In other words, there is no limit, and no place for keeping a tally of forgivenesses already used up. Peter’s question was misconceived: if one is still counting, however “generously,” one is not forgiving.
Image credit: Raphael, Handing-over the Keys, 1515, Victoria and Albert Museum, London | Public Domain
Location in Matthew’s Narrative
This coming Sunday is the 24th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Lectionary Cycle A. The gospel it taken from Mt 18:21-35. There is a large jump in our Sunday gospels as we move from the 22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time –Year A (Mt 16:21-27) to the 23rd and 24th Sunday – in fact, the entirety of Matthew 17 is passed over. As shown in Boring’s diagram [“The Gospel of Matthew” 117], we are in a part of Matthew’s gospel in which the focus is community.

Mt 16:13-28 The Confession for Jesus (Jesus as Son of God, Peter as Rock, first passion prediction, Peter as a stumbling stone, the cost and promise of discipleship)
Mt 17:1-27 Moving to Jerusalem (Transfiguration, lessons of faith, second passion prediction, and payment of the Temple tax)
Mt 18:1-35 Life in the Community
vv.1-14 (greatest in the kingdom, temptations to sin, parable of the lost sheep)
- 15-20 (if a brother sins against you)
- 21-35 (forgiveness and the parable of the unforgiving servant)
From the beginning of Matthew 16 and continuing through to entry into Jerusalem (Mt 21), Jesus is preparing and readying his disciples for life in a community of faith once Jesus is no longer with them. The way forward is founded on the revelation about Jesus (cf. Mt 16:15-16 and Mt 17:5) and all the implications that it has for life in the nascent community of faith. Chief among the implications of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus is the charge for the community to understand the depth and breadth of forgiveness.
Image credit: Raphael, Handing-over the Keys, 1515, Victoria and Albert Museum, London | Public Domain
Difficult Conversations
The three readings for today give us a roadmap for difficult conversations:
- Ezekiel tells us our responsibility, “You shall warn them for me.” (Ez 33:7)
- St. Matthew describes the method, “If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault between you and him alone.” (Mt 18:15)
- And St. Paul tells us why we would ever do such an uncomfortable thing: “Owe nothing to anyone, except to love one another.” (Rom 13:8)
The responsibility, method, and motive…and of the three, I suspect we are most comfortable with “love one another.” But when you think about it, Jesus tells us that sometimes loving another person means having a conversation we would really rather avoid. And we are pretty good at coming up with all kinds of reasons not to have it: “Who am I to judge?” “I don’t want to embarrass anyone.” “It’s none of my business.” “They’re just going to get angry.” “It won’t make any difference.” “I don’t want to risk the friendship.” Which one is your favorite? Your “go to?”
And sometimes those are legitimate concerns. Not every mistake needs our commentary. Not every disagreement is a moral crisis. There is such a thing as minding our own business. There is such a thing as being overly critical. And there are certainly people who seem to believe God has appointed them to correct everyone else.
Today’s Gospel is not giving us permission to become the moral police. But neither does Jesus allow us to disguise indifference as tolerance. Sometimes we need to ask ourselves: Am I remaining silent because silence is loving or because silence is easier for me?
That is where Ezekiel becomes uncomfortable. God describes Ezekiel as a watchman whose responsibility was to see danger approaching and sound the warning. He wasn’t responsible for making people respond. He couldn’t force them to listen. But he was responsible for sounding the warning. God said: “You shall warn them for me.” Notice what God does not say: punish, humiliate or condemn. Just warn.
That is an important distinction. We are sometimes responsible for speaking the truth to another person. We are never responsible for controlling what that person does with the truth.
Jesus shows us how disciples should exercise that responsibility: “Go and tell him his fault between you and him alone.” Between you and him alone. Is that what we often do? Think of a time when someone has hurt you. We tell our spouse about it, then a friend, and well, just one more friend. Of course, there was that text and then email. OK, we posted something on social media vague enough not to use the person’s name but specific enough that everyone knows exactly whom we’re talking about.
Pretty soon everyone knows what this person did, except perhaps the person Jesus told us to speak to in the first place. Jesus was pretty clear: “Go to your brother.” And go privately. The purpose isn’t humiliation, revenge, or to demonstrate that you’re right. Jesus tells us what the purpose is: “If he listens to you, you have won over your brother.” (Mt 18:15)
Immediately before today’s passage, Jesus tells the parable of the lost sheep. A shepherd has a hundred sheep. One wanders away. And the shepherd goes looking for it. Why? Because the sheep matters. When Jesus says: “If your brother sins against you, go…” It is the same dynamic. We seek out the one who is becoming lost. Christian correction is refusing to give up on somebody we love.
And that’s where St. Paul gives us the motive: “Owe nothing to anyone, except to love one another.”
Sometimes we imagine love as always affirming, always agreeable, always making another person feel comfortable. But anyone who has ever genuinely loved another human being knows better. Parents know this. If you see your teenager on the verge of making questionable choices, you don’t say, “Who am I to judge?” You speak. Not because you enjoy confrontation or hold yourself as morally superior. You speak because the person matters more than the comfort of the moment.
Sometimes friendship requires the same courage. Marriage, family life, and the Christian community, too. There are moments when the debt of love requires a difficult conversation.
But there is another side to today’s Gospel which may be even more difficult. We shouldn’t spend this entire homily thinking about the people we need to correct. Because somewhere there may be someone trying to work up the courage to have one of these conversations with us. And when that happens, suddenly today’s Gospel sounds very different.
Can I listen without immediately defending myself? Can I consider the possibility that the other person sees something I cannot see? Can I hear uncomfortable truth without immediately deciding that the person speaking it is judgmental?
We take turns being Ezekiel. Sometimes I see a danger you cannot see. Sometimes you see something in me that I cannot see. And Christian love means that neither of us simply walks away from the other. Perhaps that’s why Paul’s words are so important today. “Owe nothing to anyone, except to love one another.”
I owe you enough love to tell you the truth. But I also owe you enough humility to listen when you tell the truth to me. And so perhaps the readings today give us three questions to carry into the week.
Is there someone I love enough that I need to have a difficult conversation?
If so, can I follow Jesus’ method and speak privately, respectfully, seeking reconciliation rather than victory?
When someone who loves me comes to speak a difficult truth, will I listen?
Ezekiel gives us the responsibility. Matthew gives us the method. St. Paul gives us the motive. And the motive governs everything: Love.
Love one another enough to speak the truth. Love one another enough to speak it gently and privately. Love one another enough to seek reconciliation rather than victory. And love one another enough that, when it is our turn to hear a difficult truth, we listen. Because Jesus never said the goal was to win the argument. The goal is to win over your brother.
Image credit: Sermon on the Mount (1877) by Carl Heinrich Bloch, Museum of National History at Frederiksborg Castle, Public Domain
Sins against you: what’s next?
This coming Sunday is the 23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time. The passage takes into consideration that the person has not listened to you or you and the gathered witnesses. What’s next? “If he refuses to listen to them, tell the church. If he refuses to listen even to the church, then treat him as you would a Gentile or a tax collector.” (Mt 18:17)
We now come to the last resort, which the earlier approaches have been designed to avoid. To “tell the church” must presumably require a public statement when the community is gathered (rather than a whispering campaign). Such publicity must be avoided where possible, but may prove to be inevitable if the problem is to be solved. The object of the gathering is not to pronounce judgment but to strengthen the pastoral appeal, in the hope that the offender may yet “listen” (akouo). The offender, faced by the disapproval of the whole local disciple community, ought surely to recognize that this was not just a personal grievance on the part of the initiator. Anyone who is not willing to accept such united testimony may then properly be regarded as no longer a fit member of the community. “You” (singular, referring to the individual who raised the issue, not, at least explicitly, to the community as a whole) should then treat them as “a Gentile and a tax-collector.”
Gentile and tax collector: The two words (ethnikos and telones) have mixed usage in Matthew. Sometimes it refers to a way not to act, sometimes to a group of people who will enter heaven before the apostles, and in other ways. Perhaps it might be best to say that the Gentiles and tax collectors were people who were not Christians or at least they were “outside the fellowship,” or, from our context, their sins had made them “non-brothers”, but they are also people for whom the church had a special concern to bring them gospel so that they might repent and become part of the fellowship again.
Remember that the one seemingly charged with all this action is “you” (singular), presumably, the one who first raised the concern. You become the one to bring it to the church/community.
The commission given to Peter in 16:19 is repeated almost verbatim. “Amen, I say to you, whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.” Matthew 18:18. One notable difference is that the verbs are now plural, addressed to the disciples as a group, and the introductory “Amen I say to you” gives it added weight. Here, as in 16:19, the object of the “binding” is expressed in the neuter, not the masculine: it is things, issues, actions that are tied or untied, not people—though of course, as v. 17b has made clear, the decision made in principle will have practical implications for the person involved. The individual who was at first concerned over the offender’s action has, in v. 17, found it necessary to appeal to the gathered community, and the community has endorsed that individual’s assessment that this was “sin.”
In so doing the community has exercised the same authority to declare God’s will which was given to Peter earlier, and that authority is now spelled out in exactly the same way as in that earlier saying; Peter ’s “power of the keys.” Different denominations understand this differently. Roman Catholics discuss it in terms of “ordinary” and “extraordinary” teaching authority. Orthodox Catholics see it in terms of their ecclesiology (study of being church) in which the Patriarchs operate in union with Ecumenical Councils. The Reformed churches (looking to Calvin) see it in terms of polity and democratization of authority arising from the “priesthood of all believers.” Independent Bible congregations see it only in Scripture and the local elders. In whatever way it is understood, it must be remembered that it is rooted in prayer.
Again, (amen,) I say to you, if two of you agree on earth about anything for which they are to pray, it shall be granted to them by my heavenly Father. For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.” (Matthew 18:19-20)
In v. 19 prayer was expressed as a direct transaction between the two on earth and God in heaven. But now a third party is introduced into the scene. The wording makes sense only as a forward look to the presence of the risen Christ among his earthly followers. Its thrust is thus similar to that of 28:20, but whereas there the presence of Jesus “with you” is expressed in relation to the new post-Easter situation, here it is, remarkably, already in the present. The perspective is thus that of Matthew’s church rather than of the disciple group during Jesus’ ministry. The saying is linked to v. 19 with a “for,” which indicates that this is the basis for expecting united prayer to be answered: it is not just the prayer of the two who agree, but also that of Jesus who is “among them” because they have come together “in his name,” that is as his disciples representing him (cf. on v. 5, and cf. 10:40–42). While Jesus is on earth his disciples are his brothers and sisters (12:49–50) but even when he is no longer on earth he remains spiritually present as the focus of their unity.
Image credit: Sermon on the Mount (1877) by Carl Heinrich Bloch, Museum of National History at Frederiksborg Castle, Public Domain
Sins against you: listening
This coming Sunday is the 23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time. If your brother sins (against you), go and tell him his fault between you and him alone. If he listens to you, you have won over your brother. (Mt 18:15) One of the things to ask is: what is at stake? Sin, of whatever form, is not to be tolerated within the disciple community, but is to be dealt with when it is noticed. But what is at stake is winning over the brothers or sisters. The pastoral purpose of the approach is underlined by the verb “win,” which shows that the concern is not mainly with the safety and/or reputation of the whole community but with the spiritual welfare of the individual. “Win” suggests that the person was in danger of being lost, and has now been regained; it reflects the preceding image of the shepherd’s delight in getting his sheep back (v.12).
From our own experience as people we know that such situations must be dealt with sensitively and with a minimum of publicity. The principle set out in these verses is of minimum exposure, other people being brought in only when the more private approach has failed. The ideal solution is “you and him alone.” But it is to be explicit and robust in the telling of the sin witnessed: elenchō is not a gentle verb. It is not easy to capture the force of elenchō here in a single English word. It includes the related ideas of reprimand, of bringing the wrong to light, of trying to bring the person to recognize that they are in the wrong, and of correcting them.
Elenchō assumes, as this whole passage assumes, that the person raising the issue is in the right and that the behavior being criticized is self-evidently wrong. In practice matters are not always so straightforward, and it behooves the person taking the initiative to make sure that the “sin” is not simply a matter of personal preference; the eventual involvement of the “one or two” and then of the church should minimize that danger.
The hoped for response is akouo, — that the sinner might “listen,” but this word can extend beyond what the ears do, to what the mind does, “understand, comprehend.” Twice in v. 17 a form of this word is used, parakouo. Our NAB version translates it “refuses to listen,” which grows out of its more literal meanings: “to mis-hear” or “to misinterpret.” A good bit of advice is that if we want people to akouo to us in such situations, the words we say must be true, necessary, and helpful – so that they more than just hear the words, but open hearts and minds to receive the word.
Brian Stoffregen notes that in Scott Peck’s book, People of the Lie: The Hope for Healing Human Evil [69] Peck writes it “is not their sins per se that characterize evil people, rather it is the subtlety and persistence and consistency of their sins. This is because the central defect of evil is not the sin but the refusal to acknowledge it.” But if in the encounter instead of akouo we experience parakouo, we have no option – for the sake of the sinner and the community – but to begin to consider a more robust response. According to Peck, committing sins is not the same thing as being evil. We all commit sins. However, the sinners who won’t listen to the one, or the two or three, or to the church, need to be removed not because they are sinners, but because they are evil — unwilling to listen to the truth about their sins — attacking others instead of facing their own failures. In this case, it is healthier for the body to remove the evil (cancerous) part that would destroy the whole, than to try and keep the “family” together.
Why Witnesses? The initial one-on-one approach has not been successful, so more drastic action is needed. Again there is no suggestion that the “one or two others” hold any position of leadership, and no indication of how they should be selected. Why take along one or two others after the first non-listening response?
First of all, Jewish law required two or three witnesses to uphold a complaint (Dt 19:15). Secondly, the witnesses need to be present, because they may conclude that the confronter may be in the wrong. The accusations against a fellow member may be way off-base. The one or two then may become the confronters against the original accuser. A third reason might be deduced from the last line in our text: “For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.” We don’t often connect these two verses — as well as v. 19: “if two of you agree on earth about anything for which you are to pray, it shall be granted to them by my heavenly Father.” Note that the word (pragma) translated “thing” in “anything,” can have the more specific meaning of a legal case, litigation (see 1 Cor 6:1 where it is translated “grievance,” but refers to a legal complaint). Malina and Rohrbaugh suggest the translation: “For where two or three ‘convene to hear a case’ in Jesus’ name, Jesus is there as well.” [p. 119]
Image credit: Sermon on the Mount (1877) by Carl Heinrich Bloch, Museum of National History at Frederiksborg Castle, Public Domain
How serious a sin?
This coming Sunday is the 23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time. One should note that in this passage, the sin and the sought for reconciliation is within the community rather than with God. At one level, our text is about life together as a community of believers, rather than our lives in relationship with God (although the two should not be separated.)
Whether the sin is against an individual or the community, what sin would result in the member being confronted? The Greek word harmartano (sin) has the sense of “to miss the mark” and thus “to fail.” Should this only refer to the “big sins” that are worthy of prison sentences? Would this be a member who steals from the community or leads a life wholly against the gospel values? This word harmartano only occurs three times in Matthew: One other time in the verses for next week (18:21), and in reference to Judas betraying Jesus (27:4). Could Jesus have restored Judas to the fellowship after this sin? Would the disciples have accepted Judas back in? We’ll never know. Judas, in Matthew, hangs himself.
Whatever the sin might be, the process begins with going to the sinful one and beginning a dialogue. This step is not new with Jesus. The same Greek word, elegcho, is used in the LXX (Greek version of OT): “You shall not hate in your heart anyone of your kin; you shall reprove your neighbor, or you will incur guilt yourself. You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against any of your people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself: I am the LORD.” Lev 19:17-18.
Brian Stoffergen writes: “It is characteristic of God’s people, whether old or new covenant, to love one another — and sometimes that love takes on a tough character when it is required to confront fellow believers with their sin. However, the purpose of such confrontations is always restoration. It cannot be done from an attitude of ‘I’ve better than you,’ because we are all sinners.”
Hare (Matthew, Interpretation Commentaries) suggests the more common, modern day approach: “We are inclined to ‘forgive’ sins in advance of repentance rather than have to confront the guilty parties” [p. 213]
Long (Matthew) makes a similar statement: “In contrast to the attitudes of the prevailing culture (‘If somebody hassles you, forget them. It’s their problem, not yours”), relationships are of precious and enduring value in the church. When a relationship is broken, it is worth going back over and over to work toward reconciliation” [p. 210]
Malina and Rohrbaugh (Social-Science Commentary on the Synoptic Gospels) write:
In an honor-shame society, sin is a breach of interpersonal relations. In the Gospels the closest analogy to the forgiveness of sins is the forgiveness of debts (Matt. 6:12; see Luke 11:4), an analogy drawn from pervasive peasant experience. Debt threatened loss of land, livelihood, family. It made persons poor, that is, unable to maintain their social position. Forgiveness would thus have had the character of restoration, a return to both self-sufficiency and one’s place in the community. Since the introspective, guilt-oriented outlook of industrialized societies did not exist, it is unlikely that forgiveness meant psychological healing. Instead, forgiveness by God meant being divinely restored to one’s position and therefore being freed from fear of loss at the hands of God. Forgiveness by others meant restoration to the community. Given the anti-introspective attitude of Mediterranean people, “conscience” was not so much an interior voice of accusation as an external one — what the neighbors said, hence blame from friends, neighbors, or authorities…. An accusation had the power to destroy, while forgiveness had the power to restore. [pp. 63-64]
If their understanding of the cultural situation is right, then the one sinned against had the power to destroy (through accusing the sinner) or to restore (through forgiving the sinner).
However, our immediate text never uses the word “forgive.,” While the word “forgiveness” is not used, it is clear that the primary purpose of the process is to restore the wayward one back into the family relationship (reconciliation — which according to the above quote, is the definition of “forgiveness”). The fact that the sinner is won over (v. 15b) indicates that the brotherly relationship between the two or between the community and the one had been lost.
Image credit: Sermon on the Mount (1877) by Carl Heinrich Bloch, Museum of National History at Frederiksborg Castle, Public Domain
VJ Day Remembered
Contagious Holiness
We all know what it means for something to be contagious. Someone in the family catches a cold, and pretty soon everybody is trying not to catch it. We keep our distance. We wash our hands. We don’t want whatever that person has to spread to us.
There is an interesting background to the mindset of today’s Gospel. In the Old Testament there were careful rules concerning what was clean and unclean. Contact with some diseases, bodily fluids, or the dead could render a person ritually unclean. The idea underlying these purity rules was clear: uncleanness could spread through contact, and so boundaries were maintained between what was unclean and what was holy. But when Jesus arrives, something remarkable begins to happen.
Simon’s mother-in-law is suffering from a severe fever. Jesus stands over her and rebukes the fever, and immediately she is restored. Then, at sunset, people begin bringing the sick to Jesus. Luke tells us that Jesus “laid his hands on each of them and cured them” (Lk 4:40). Jesus does not keep his distance. He gets close. And as Luke’s Gospel continues, this pattern becomes even more striking. Jesus will reach out and touch a leper. He will allow a woman suffering from hemorrhages to touch him. He will approach the dead. But something has changed.
The leper does not make Jesus unclean. Jesus makes the leper clean. The sick do not infect Him with their sickness, rather Jesus communicates healing to them. Death is overcome and life restored by Jesus. There is no contagion. In Jesus, holiness has become contagious flows into the world as healing, forgiveness, mercy, restoration, life. And perhaps that gives us another way of thinking about what it means to be a Christian.
Sometimes we can become rather concerned about what we might “catch” from the world around us. And certainly there are things from which we should protect ourselves. But Christians cannot spend their lives simply trying to remain safely separated from everything that is broken. Jesus didn’t. Jesus moved toward brokenness, the sick, sinners, the rejected, people carrying the burden of sin, toward people whom everyone else had decided were better kept at a distance. And instead of their brokenness changing Jesus, his holiness began changing them.
That raises an interesting question for us. What happens when someone comes into contact with me? When I encounter someone who is angry, does their anger infect me so that I become angry too? Or does something of Christ’s peace begin to spread? When I encounter someone who is lonely, do I keep my distance or does Christ’s compassion begin to spread? When someone has failed badly, do I add to the shame or does something of Christ’s mercy reach that person through me? When someone has lost hope, do I join in the despair or does the hope Christ has given me become contagious?
At the end of today’s Gospel, the people of Capernaum want Jesus to stay with them. But Jesus tells them: “To the other towns also I must proclaim the good news of the kingdom of God, because for this purpose I have been sent.” (Lk 4:43) Jesus will not allow the Kingdom to remain safely contained in Capernaum.
Holiness goes outward so that the Kingdom grows. And that is still the Church’s mission. The Church has long spoken of evangelization happening through the ordinary witness of Christian lives: through the way we love, care for those in need, treat our neighbors and strangers, and live our faith in ordinary circumstances.
Today, we will receive Christ in the Eucharist. The same Christ who laid his hands upon the sick, approached the outcast, forgave sinners, and brought hope to people who had lost it will come to us. And then we will leave this church carrying Christ into the world. So perhaps today’s Gospel invites us to worry a little less about what we might catch from the world and ask a different question: what might the world catch from us?
May the holiness of Christ become contagious through us. May we infect the world with Christ’s compassion, mercy, peace, hope and love.
Image credit: Created in Dalle-3 | Aug 31, 2026 | prompt: image with vibrant colors that portrays Jesus’s holiness going outward for healing, casting out spirits, and such.| CC-BY-NC
