Justice Or Forgiveness?
Sermon
During the 1987 Remembrance Day ceremony in Enniskillen, Northern Ireland, a bomb planted by the IRA exploded killing 11 people and injuring another 63. One of those killed was nurse Marie Wilson whose father, Gordon Wilson, was injured in the explosion and was with his daughter when she died.
Gordon Wilson gave a moving account of his daughter's death in media interviews but said quite clearly that he forgave her killers. That statement, and Gordon Wilson's quiet dignity had a profound effect on many people in Northern Ireland. He was later involved with initiatives to improve community relations in Enniskillen and eventually was appointed to the Senate in the Republic of Ireland, until he died in 1995.
Gordon Wilson was a rare example of what we all understand by Christian forgiveness. All too often in the media, when people's loved ones have been violated in some way, the cry isn't for forgiveness, but is for vengeance. On those occasions when a convicted criminal has his sentence reduced or receives a lenient sentence, almost invariably there's outrage from the victim's family. Often there's outrage if a suspect isn't convicted. It's almost as though the family's pain and fury need to be directed at someone, never mind whether or not that person is found guilty.
And that's such a natural and understandable reaction! If someone has caused untold suffering to an individual, then the community, especially those close to the victim, requires that the criminal suffers too. That seems to go some way towards easing the pain of the community. We call it 'punishment' and it feels like justice.
The ancient Jews took that thinking a stage further. They looked at somebody who was suffering, perhaps from illness or poverty or some other unexpected misfortune, and called that suffering a punishment from God. To be suffering so much, they said, that person must have sinned. When it became irrefutable that not all suffering is the direct result of sin, the Jews shifted their ground and said some ancestor must have sinned, and God was punishing the children for the sins of the fathers. (Exodus 20:5; Exodus 34:7)
There are many, many people, who whatever they think intellectually, deep down inside still hold to that primitive view of cause and effect, and believe the world is held in the grip of a vengeful God. And ironically, they hold that view because they believe in justice. It seems to be almost a basic instinct to presume that when people do awful things, there must be some reckoning somewhere along the line. Thus at times of personal difficulty and suffering, people still say with genuine bewilderment: "I don't know what I've done to deserve this."
The slaughter of the Galileans by Pilate, recorded in today's gospel reading, is unknown outside Luke. But from what is known about Pilate from the Jewish historian Josephus, such a slaughter would be in keeping with the character of Pilate. Josephus reports how Pilate disrupted a religious gathering of Samaritans on Mt. Gerizim with a slaughter of the participants (Antiquities 18, 4, 1 *86-87).
And on another occasion Pilate killed many Jews who had opposed him when he appropriated money from the temple treasury to build an aqueduct in Jerusalem (Jewish War 2, 9, 4 *175-77; Antiquities 18, 3, 2 *60-62). But neither this incident, nor the accident in Jerusalem when the tower in Siloam fell and killed eighteen Galileans, is known outside Luke's gospel.
Jesus says very clearly that the victims of these tragedies should not be considered outstanding sinners who were singled out for punishment. In fact, he presents both these incidents as timely reminders of the need for all to repent. He says: "unless you repent you will all likewise perish."
There are strands in the OT which emphasise God's love and forgiveness over and above his punishment. Numbers 14:18 says: 'The LORD is slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, forgiving iniquity and transgression" and Exodus 34:7, which is almost an identical quote, clarifies that statement even further by saying: "keeping steadfast love for the thousandth generation, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin"
Jesus applies this forgiveness and love of God when he suggests how we humans should forgive each other. "How many times should I forgive my brother?" asked Peter. "Seven times?"
"No," said Jesus, "Seventy times seven." (Matthew 18:22)
In other words, times without number. Countless times. We must go on and on and on forgiving.
But how does this tie in with the need for justice? With the need to acknowledge wrongdoing? With the need to fight evil? And how does it tie in with today's warning by Jesus that: "unless you repent you will all likewise perish"? Is he saying that although humans must forgive and go on forgiving forever, there's a limit to God's forgiveness?
Jesus goes on to tell the parable of the fig tree. The owner of the vineyard went each year for three years to pick the figs from his fig tree, but there was never any fruit. So he told the vinedresser to cut down the useless tree. The vinedresser begged for one last chance for the tree. He promised to dig about the tree and put on manure, and if that didn't work, then the tree would go.
So it does seem there's a limit to God's patience. But perhaps that's not the same as a limit to his forgiveness. Perhaps his forgiveness is always present, always available whatever the sin, but if his forgiveness is constantly and consistently rejected, then there comes a time when there's no alternative to the scrap heap.
It's interesting that manure is the one commodity which might encourage the tree to fruit. The OT prophets often regarded terrible disaster not just as punishment, but as a sign of God's love for his people, as the manure which might finally produce repentance and good fruit.
And perhaps when we humans are at our best, that's how we view punishment and justice. As a kind of final manure which might produce a change of heart and lead to repentance. Punishment and justice always need to be tempered by love and forgiveness.
God's forgiveness is always present, we simply have to take hold of it, but I'm not sure human forgiveness quite reaches those heights. In fact, our righteous indignation over the sins and evil of others very often seems to be totally devoid of any concept of forgiveness. The public attitude towards Myra Hindley the Moors murderer, has never contained any trace of love or forgiveness. Even though she apparently became a committed Christian since being in prison, and therefore repented of her hideous crimes.
As Gordon Wilson showed, there's something about genuine forgiveness which can have a profound effect on many people. For somehow or other, genuine forgiveness always bears fruit of one sort or another. And the fruit is not only produced in the forgiven sinner. For forgiveness has a softening and gentling effect on those who witness it, and enables God's love to blossom in those who offer it.
Perhaps that's one reason why the cross is so moving and so profound. Because despite the terrible injustice of that criminal act, and the appalling suffering inflicted on him, Jesus forgave the perpetrators with no strings attached.
There must be justice in this imperfect world of ours for the world to function. But the world always seems to function better if justice is contained within genuine forgiveness. For it's within forgiveness that God's love is experienced, both for the forgiver, and for the forgiven.
Gordon Wilson gave a moving account of his daughter's death in media interviews but said quite clearly that he forgave her killers. That statement, and Gordon Wilson's quiet dignity had a profound effect on many people in Northern Ireland. He was later involved with initiatives to improve community relations in Enniskillen and eventually was appointed to the Senate in the Republic of Ireland, until he died in 1995.
Gordon Wilson was a rare example of what we all understand by Christian forgiveness. All too often in the media, when people's loved ones have been violated in some way, the cry isn't for forgiveness, but is for vengeance. On those occasions when a convicted criminal has his sentence reduced or receives a lenient sentence, almost invariably there's outrage from the victim's family. Often there's outrage if a suspect isn't convicted. It's almost as though the family's pain and fury need to be directed at someone, never mind whether or not that person is found guilty.
And that's such a natural and understandable reaction! If someone has caused untold suffering to an individual, then the community, especially those close to the victim, requires that the criminal suffers too. That seems to go some way towards easing the pain of the community. We call it 'punishment' and it feels like justice.
The ancient Jews took that thinking a stage further. They looked at somebody who was suffering, perhaps from illness or poverty or some other unexpected misfortune, and called that suffering a punishment from God. To be suffering so much, they said, that person must have sinned. When it became irrefutable that not all suffering is the direct result of sin, the Jews shifted their ground and said some ancestor must have sinned, and God was punishing the children for the sins of the fathers. (Exodus 20:5; Exodus 34:7)
There are many, many people, who whatever they think intellectually, deep down inside still hold to that primitive view of cause and effect, and believe the world is held in the grip of a vengeful God. And ironically, they hold that view because they believe in justice. It seems to be almost a basic instinct to presume that when people do awful things, there must be some reckoning somewhere along the line. Thus at times of personal difficulty and suffering, people still say with genuine bewilderment: "I don't know what I've done to deserve this."
The slaughter of the Galileans by Pilate, recorded in today's gospel reading, is unknown outside Luke. But from what is known about Pilate from the Jewish historian Josephus, such a slaughter would be in keeping with the character of Pilate. Josephus reports how Pilate disrupted a religious gathering of Samaritans on Mt. Gerizim with a slaughter of the participants (Antiquities 18, 4, 1 *86-87).
And on another occasion Pilate killed many Jews who had opposed him when he appropriated money from the temple treasury to build an aqueduct in Jerusalem (Jewish War 2, 9, 4 *175-77; Antiquities 18, 3, 2 *60-62). But neither this incident, nor the accident in Jerusalem when the tower in Siloam fell and killed eighteen Galileans, is known outside Luke's gospel.
Jesus says very clearly that the victims of these tragedies should not be considered outstanding sinners who were singled out for punishment. In fact, he presents both these incidents as timely reminders of the need for all to repent. He says: "unless you repent you will all likewise perish."
There are strands in the OT which emphasise God's love and forgiveness over and above his punishment. Numbers 14:18 says: 'The LORD is slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, forgiving iniquity and transgression" and Exodus 34:7, which is almost an identical quote, clarifies that statement even further by saying: "keeping steadfast love for the thousandth generation, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin"
Jesus applies this forgiveness and love of God when he suggests how we humans should forgive each other. "How many times should I forgive my brother?" asked Peter. "Seven times?"
"No," said Jesus, "Seventy times seven." (Matthew 18:22)
In other words, times without number. Countless times. We must go on and on and on forgiving.
But how does this tie in with the need for justice? With the need to acknowledge wrongdoing? With the need to fight evil? And how does it tie in with today's warning by Jesus that: "unless you repent you will all likewise perish"? Is he saying that although humans must forgive and go on forgiving forever, there's a limit to God's forgiveness?
Jesus goes on to tell the parable of the fig tree. The owner of the vineyard went each year for three years to pick the figs from his fig tree, but there was never any fruit. So he told the vinedresser to cut down the useless tree. The vinedresser begged for one last chance for the tree. He promised to dig about the tree and put on manure, and if that didn't work, then the tree would go.
So it does seem there's a limit to God's patience. But perhaps that's not the same as a limit to his forgiveness. Perhaps his forgiveness is always present, always available whatever the sin, but if his forgiveness is constantly and consistently rejected, then there comes a time when there's no alternative to the scrap heap.
It's interesting that manure is the one commodity which might encourage the tree to fruit. The OT prophets often regarded terrible disaster not just as punishment, but as a sign of God's love for his people, as the manure which might finally produce repentance and good fruit.
And perhaps when we humans are at our best, that's how we view punishment and justice. As a kind of final manure which might produce a change of heart and lead to repentance. Punishment and justice always need to be tempered by love and forgiveness.
God's forgiveness is always present, we simply have to take hold of it, but I'm not sure human forgiveness quite reaches those heights. In fact, our righteous indignation over the sins and evil of others very often seems to be totally devoid of any concept of forgiveness. The public attitude towards Myra Hindley the Moors murderer, has never contained any trace of love or forgiveness. Even though she apparently became a committed Christian since being in prison, and therefore repented of her hideous crimes.
As Gordon Wilson showed, there's something about genuine forgiveness which can have a profound effect on many people. For somehow or other, genuine forgiveness always bears fruit of one sort or another. And the fruit is not only produced in the forgiven sinner. For forgiveness has a softening and gentling effect on those who witness it, and enables God's love to blossom in those who offer it.
Perhaps that's one reason why the cross is so moving and so profound. Because despite the terrible injustice of that criminal act, and the appalling suffering inflicted on him, Jesus forgave the perpetrators with no strings attached.
There must be justice in this imperfect world of ours for the world to function. But the world always seems to function better if justice is contained within genuine forgiveness. For it's within forgiveness that God's love is experienced, both for the forgiver, and for the forgiven.
