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Reflection on the Twenty-Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Times

By Greg Swiderski

The readings for this Sunday:

Sirach 27:30-28:7

Romans 14:7-9

Matthew 18:21-35

The sculpture of St. Peter in the Basilica in Rome is one of the most popular attractions there. He holds two keys and models the gospel which we heard a few weeks ago. Some people even kiss the feet of the famous statute.

However, Matthew's gospel etches a richer, more colorful and humane person.

As we have read about him these weeks he reminds me of the children in Art Linkletter's old program: Kids Say the Darndest Things. Peter acts and asks difficult questions.

He stepped out of the boat and like the Greek of his name, rock, he skips across the deep waters until his fresh child like energy is dissipated by reality: “What the hell am I doing?” we can imagine this man of the world asking himself in utter astonishment. Like the stones we skip across placid lake water, he then begins to sink as any stone would.

When Jesus asks who people say that I am, he responds quickly, clearly: the Anointed One of God!

A few verses later this rock of certainty becomes a stumbling block when all he wants is the easy way. Jesus even calls him satan. Imagine that on his resume for sainthood; imagine if they would have etched these words of Jesus high above the main altar at St. Peter's: Get behind me satan!

Today he asks a question. Perhaps Jesus, like any good teacher, had let his disciples know that there is no such thing as a foolish and worthless question. There is wisdom in the search. So Peter asks a question which has challenged and troubled humans through the ages: How many times must I forgive?

Forever....

In time the ekklesia realized that forgiving is a sacred experience; a sacrament. In time practices within the church made this holy, wholesome event a brunt of jokes and an encounter with angry, judging men. Some people never returned. Divine mercy seemed far removed from the confines of those dark spaces.

Yet psychologists, therapists, and spiritual guides exhort us to work at forgiving. Consider this:

Rev. Michael Clark is pastor of Christ Lutheran Church in or near Wichita, Kansas. Recently he sat in the courtroom with one of his parishioners, the former president of the Church council. He stayed with Dennis Rader, visited him twice a week in prison, prayed Psalm 51 during the trial, and even heard his confession.

Rev. Clark heard prosecutors as they "presented evidence that Mr. Rader had dragged one woman's body in the church to take photographs of her in bondage positions, taping black plastic over the windows... detectives detailed how Mr. Rader had stolen untold sums from church coffers and had stashed some of his torture tools in a church shed."

If I were Michael Clark I would ask the prison chaplain to see Dennis. I would be overwhelmed with anger and feel betrayed. Yet, Michael was there.

So Peter's question has no simple answer; merely struggle with the question and keep asking... how many times must I forgive?

P.S. Before leaving this wonderful character, Peter, I must remember the lowest point in Peter's life. When his teacher needs him most, he denies and abandons him. Later, he simply weeps. Remember the towering and powerful sculpted Peter with those keys: communicating to people that the church's ministers had such power to loose and bind. Why didn't they sculpt a weeping Peter? His feet I could kiss.