Homily 61 — Matthew 18, verses 21 to 35

“Then Peter came to him and said, ‘Lord, how often will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? Up to seven times?’ Jesus said to him, ‘I do not say to you, up to seven times, but up to seventy times seven.’” [a]

Peter thought he was saying something great, and that is why, as though reaching for greatness, he added, “Up to seven times?” He is saying: “This thing you have commanded us to do — how often am I to do it? If a man keeps on sinning, but keeps on repenting whenever he is corrected, how often do you command us to bear with him? For the other kind, the one who does not repent and will not admit his own faults, you have set a limit, when you said, ‘Let him be to you as the pagan and the tax collector.’ But with this one it is no longer so; you have commanded us to accept him. How often, then, ought I to bear with him when he is told his faults and repents? Is seven times enough?”

And what does Christ say, the good God who loves humankind? “I do not say to you, up to seven times, but up to seventy times seven.” He is not setting a number here, but something endless, constant, and forever. Just as “ten thousand times” means “often,” so it is here. When Scripture says, “The barren woman has borne seven,” it means many. So he has not limited forgiveness by a number, but has declared that it is to go on constantly and forever.

He showed this, at any rate, by the parable he set after it. So that no one would think he was commanding great things, hard to bear, when he said “seventy times seven,” he added this parable. At one stroke it led them on to what he had said, took down the man who was priding himself on it, and showed that the thing was not burdensome but actually very easy. And so, I would add, he brought forward his own love for humankind, so that by the comparison, as he says, you might learn this: even if you forgive seventy times seven, even if you keep on pardoning your neighbor for absolutely all his sins, your love for humankind falls as far short of God’s boundless goodness as a drop of water falls short of an endless sea — as far, or rather much farther. And you stand in need of that goodness, since you are to be judged and must give an account.

That is why he went on to say, “The kingdom of heaven is like a certain king who wanted to settle accounts with his servants. When he had begun to settle them, one was brought to him who owed him ten thousand talents. And since he could not pay, he commanded that he be sold, with his wife, his children, and all that he had.” Then, after this man had enjoyed the benefit of mercy, he went out and “took by the throat his fellow servant, who owed him a hundred denarii.” By these actions he provoked his master and made him throw him into prison after all, until he should pay off the whole.

Do you see how great the difference is between sins against man and sins against God? As great as between ten thousand talents and a hundred denarii — or rather, far greater. This comes both from the difference between the persons and from the unbroken succession of our sins. When a man is watching us, we hold back and shrink from sinning; but though God sees us every day, we do not hold back, but do and say everything without fear. And it is not only for this reason, but also because of the kindness we have received and the honor we have been given, that our sins become more serious.

If you want to learn how our sins against him amount to ten thousand talents, or rather far more, I will try to show it briefly. Yet I am afraid that I might give still greater confidence to those who lean toward wickedness and love to keep on sinning, or drive the gentler sort to despair, so that they repeat the disciples’ words, “Who can be saved?”

Still, for all that, I will speak, to make those who pay attention safer and gentler. Those who are incurably sick and past feeling do not leave their carelessness and wickedness even without these words of mine. And if they draw from this a still greater excuse for contempt, the fault is not in what is said but in their own insensibility, since what is said is surely enough both to hold back those who attend to it and to pierce their hearts. And the gentler sort, when they see the greatness of their sins on the one hand, and learn the power of repentance on the other, will cling to it all the more. That is why it has to be said.

So I will speak, and I will set out our sins, both where we offend against God and where we offend against people. I will set out not each person’s own sins, but those we all share; let each one add his own to them afterward from his conscience.

And I will do this after first setting out God’s good deeds toward us. What, then, are his good deeds? He created us when we did not exist, and made everything we see for our sakes: heaven, sea, air, all that is in them, living creatures, plants, seeds — for we must speak briefly, with so boundless an ocean of works before us. Into us alone of all that are on earth he breathed a living soul such as we have. He planted a garden, he gave a helper suited to us, he set us over all the animals, he crowned us with glory and honor.

After that, when man had been ungrateful to his benefactor, he granted him a greater gift still.

Do not look only at this, that he cast him out of paradise; notice too the gain that came of it. For after casting him out of paradise, and doing those countless good works, and carrying out his various arrangements, he sent even his own Son for the sake of those he had treated so kindly and who hated him. He opened heaven to us, threw paradise itself open, and made us sons — us, the enemies, the ungrateful. [f]

So it would be fitting even now to say, “Oh, the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and of the knowledge of God!”

He also gave us a baptism for the forgiveness of sins, deliverance from vengeance, and the inheritance of a kingdom. He promised countless good things if we do what is right; he stretched out his hand, and he poured out his Spirit into our hearts.

What, then? After so many and such great blessings, how ought we to be disposed? If we died every day for him who loves us so much, would we be paying him back as we should? Or rather, would we be repaying even the smallest part of the debt? Not at all. For even this, once again, turns out to our own advantage.

So how are we disposed, we who ought to be disposed like this? Every day we insult his law. But do not be angry if I let my tongue loose against those who sin; it is not only you I will accuse, but myself too.

Where, then, would you like me to begin? With the slaves, or with the free? With those who serve in the army, or with private citizens? With the rulers, or with their subjects? With the women, or with the men? With the old, or with the young? With what age, what race, what rank, what occupation?

Would you like me to start with those who serve as soldiers? What sin do these men not commit every day? Insulting, abusing, raging, making a profit out of other people’s misfortunes, behaving like wolves — they are never clear of offenses, unless one could say the sea too is without waves. What passion does not trouble them? What disease does not lay siege to their souls?

Toward their equals they are jealous: they envy and chase after empty glory. Toward those under them they are greedy. And toward those who have lawsuits and run to them as to a harbor, they behave like enemies and perjurers. How many robberies they commit! How many frauds! How many false accusations and petty meannesses! How much slavish flattery!

Come, then, let us apply the law of Christ to each case. “Whoever says to his brother, ‘You fool,’ will be liable to the fire of hell.” “Whoever has looked at a woman to lust after her has already committed adultery with her.” “Unless someone humbles himself like the little child, he will not enter the kingdom of heaven.”

But these men actually make a study of arrogance. Toward those under them — people handed over into their power, who tremble before them and are afraid of them — they are fiercer than a wild beast. They do nothing for Christ’s sake, but everything for the belly, for money, for empty glory.

Can anyone put into words the offense of what they do? What could one say of their judgments, their laughter, their untimely talk, their filthy language? As for greed, one cannot even begin to speak of it. Just as the monks on the mountains do not even know what greed is, neither do these men — but in the opposite way. The monks do not know the passion because they are far removed from the disease; these men, because they are so thoroughly drunk with it, do not even perceive how great the evil is. This vice has so pushed virtue aside and rules so like a tyrant that among these madmen it is not even counted a serious charge.

But would you like us to leave these and go to others of a gentler kind? Come, then, let us look at the class of workmen and craftsmen. These above all seem to live by honest labor and by the sweat of their own brow. But these too, when they are not careful, gather many evils to themselves from it. They bring the dishonesty of buying and selling into honest work. They often add oaths and perjuries and lies to their greed. They are taken up with worldly things alone and stay riveted to the earth. And while they do everything to get money, they take little care to share with the needy, always wanting to add to their goods. What could one say of the abuse that is hurled over such matters — the insults, the loans, the profits from interest, the bargains full of petty haggling, the shameless buying and selling?

But would you like us to leave these too and go to others who seem to be more just? Who are they? Those who own land and reap the wealth that springs from the earth. And yet what could be more unjust than these? If anyone examined how they treat their wretched, worn-out laborers, he would find them crueler than savages. On men wasting away with hunger and toiling all their lives, they impose constant, unbearable payments and lay back-breaking burdens. They treat their bodies like donkeys or mules — or rather like stones — not letting them draw breath even for a moment. Whether the land yields or does not yield, they wear them out all the same and grant them no relief. [i]

And what could be more pitiable than this? After laboring the whole winter through, worn down by frost and rain and sleepless nights, they go away empty-handed, and in debt besides. And more than this famine and shipwreck, they fear and dread the tortures of the overseers, their dragging them off, their demands, their imprisonments, and the forced labor from which no pleading can free them.

Why speak of the trade they make of these men, the sordid profits they wring from them? With the laborers’ toil and sweat they fill winepresses and wine vats, yet they do not let them take home even a small measure; they drain off the whole harvest into the casks of their own wickedness and toss them a little money for it.

They also invent new kinds of interest, not lawful even under the laws of the pagans, and draw up loan contracts full of curses. They press for and exact not a hundredth part of the sum, but half of it — and this from a man who has a wife, who is raising children, who is a human being, and who fills their threshing floor and their winepress by his own labor.

But they consider none of these things. So now it would be fitting to bring forward the prophet and say, “Be astonished, O heaven, and be horribly afraid, O earth!” To what brutality the human race has been madly carried away!

I do not say these things to blame trades, or farming, or military service, but ourselves. For Cornelius too was a centurion, and Paul a leatherworker who went on practicing his craft after he had begun preaching; David was a king, and Job owned land and large revenues; and none of this was any hindrance to any of them on the way of virtue.

Keeping all these things in mind, and thinking of the ten thousand talents, let us at least for this reason hurry to forgive our neighbors their few and trifling debts. For we too have an account to give of the commandments entrusted to us, and we cannot pay it all — no, not whatever we do. That is why God has given us a way of repayment that is ready and easy, and able to cancel all these debts: I mean, not being vengeful.

So that we may learn this well, let us hear the whole parable, going through it in order. “There was brought to him,” it says, “one who owed ten thousand talents, and since he could not pay, he commanded that he be sold, with his wife and his children.” Why, I ask you? Not from cruelty or inhumanity — for the loss would have come back upon himself, since she too was a slave — but from a tenderness beyond words. His purpose was to frighten him with this threat so as to bring him to plead, not to have him sold. If he had done it with that intent, he would not have granted his request or done him the favor.

Why, then, did he neither carry this out nor forgive the debt before the reckoning? Because he wanted to teach him how many obligations he was freeing him from, so that in this way at least he might become gentler toward his fellow servant. For even after he had learned the weight of his debt and the greatness of the forgiveness, he went on taking his fellow servant by the throat. If the master had not disciplined him beforehand with such medicines, to what lengths of cruelty might he not have gone?

And what does the other say? “Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything.” And his master “was moved with compassion, and released him, and forgave him the debt.”

Do you see again his surpassing kindness? The servant asked only for delay and more time, but he gave more than he asked: release and forgiveness of the whole debt. It had been his wish to give it even from the first, but he did not want the gift to be his alone; he wanted it to come also from this man’s pleading, so that he would not go away without a crown. That the whole of it came from the master, even though the servant fell down before him and pleaded, the motive of the forgiveness shows, for he forgave him “moved with compassion.” Still, even so, he wanted the servant too to seem to contribute something, so that he would not be utterly covered with shame, and so that, schooled by his own misfortunes, he might be lenient to his fellow servant.

Up to this point, then, the man was good and acceptable. He confessed, promised to pay the debt, fell down before him, pleaded, condemned his own sins, and recognized how great the debt was. But what followed was unworthy of what he had done before. Going out at once — not after a long time, but at once, with the kindness still fresh on him — he abused the gift, the very freedom his master had given him, for wickedness. [k]

For “he found one of his fellow servants who owed him a hundred denarii, and he took him by the throat, saying, ‘Pay what you owe.’” Do you see the master’s kindness? Do you see the servant’s cruelty? Listen, you who do such things for money! If we must not act this way over sins, much less over money.

And what does the other say? “Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything.” But he paid no regard even to the words by which he himself had been saved — for by saying these very words he had been freed from the ten thousand talents. He did not recognize even the harbor where he had escaped shipwreck. The posture of pleading did not remind him of his master’s kindness. He put all this away from him, out of greed and cruelty and vengefulness, and was fiercer than any wild beast, seizing his fellow servant by the throat.

What are you doing, man? Do you not see that you are making the demand against yourself, driving the sword into yourself, and revoking the sentence and the gift? But he considered none of this. He did not remember his own situation, and he did not give way, even though the pleas were not for equal things.

The one begged for ten thousand talents, the other for a hundred denarii; the one begged his fellow servant, the other his master; the one received complete forgiveness, the other asked only for time — and he did not give him even that, for “he threw him into prison.”

“But when his fellow servants saw it, they reported him to their master.” Not even to people is such a thing pleasing, much less to God. So those who owed nothing shared in the grief.

What, then, does their master say? “You wicked servant, I forgave you all that debt because you begged me. Should you not also have had compassion, just as I had pity on you?”

See again the master’s gentleness. He reasons with him and makes his defense, as he is about to revoke his gift — or rather, it was not he who revoked it, but the man who had received it. That is why he says, “I forgave you all that debt because you begged me. Should you not also have had compassion on your fellow servant?” Even if the thing seems hard to you, you should have looked at the gain, both what you have received and what is still to come. Even if the command is galling, you ought to consider the reward — and not that he has hurt you, but that you had provoked God, and reconciled him by prayer alone. And if even so it is galling to you to become friends with the man who hurt you, falling into hell is far more painful; had you set the one against the other, you would have known that forgiving is much the lighter thing.

And notice: when the man owed ten thousand talents, the master did not call him wicked or reproach him, but had mercy on him. But when he had been harsh to his fellow servant, then he says, “You wicked servant.”

Let us listen, we who are greedy, for the word is spoken to us as well. Let us listen too, we who are merciless and cruel, for it is not to others that we are cruel, but to ourselves. So when you are inclined to take revenge, consider that it is on yourself you are taking revenge, not on another; that you are binding up your own sins, not your neighbor’s. For whatever you may do to this man, you do as a man and in this present life; but God will not act so. He will take vengeance on you more mightily, with the vengeance of the life to come.

“For he handed him over until he should pay what was owed” — that is, forever, since he will never repay it. Since you did not become better through the kindness shown you, it remains for you to be corrected by vengeance. And yet “gracious favors and gifts are never taken back”; but wickedness has had the power to set aside even this law. What, then, could be more grievous than vengefulness, when it is seen to overthrow so great a gift of God?

And he did not merely “hand him over”; he “was angry.” When he commanded him to be sold, his words were not the words of anger — that is why he did not carry it out — but a very great opening for kindness. But now the sentence is full of indignation, vengeance, and punishment. What, then, does the parable mean? “So also my Father will do to you,” he says, “if you do not, each of you, forgive your brother their trespasses from your hearts.”

He does not say “your Father,” but “my Father.” For it is not fitting for God to be called the Father of such a man, so wicked and spiteful.

So he requires two things here: that we condemn ourselves for our sins, and that we forgive others. The first is for the sake of the second, to make it easier — for whoever considers his own sins is more lenient to his fellow servant. And he requires us to forgive not merely with the lips, but from the heart. [m]

So let us not drive the sword into ourselves by being vengeful. What pain has the man who hurt you caused you that compares with the pain you will cause yourself by keeping your anger in mind and drawing on yourself God’s sentence of condemnation? If you are watchful and keep yourself in check, the evil will come back on his head, and it is he who will suffer harm. But if you go on being indignant and resentful, you will suffer the harm yourself — not from him, but from yourself.

So do not tell me that he insulted you, slandered you, and did you countless wrongs. The more you list, the more you are declaring him your benefactor. He has given you an opportunity to wash away your sins, so that the greater the injuries he has done you, the greater the forgiveness of sins he has brought about for you. If we are willing, no one will be able to injure us; even our enemies will benefit us in the highest degree. And why do I speak of people? What could be more wicked than the devil? Yet even from him we gain a great opportunity to prove ourselves, as Job shows. But if the devil has become a source of crowns, why are you afraid of a man as an enemy?

See, then, how much you gain by bearing the spiteful acts of your enemies gently. First and greatest, freedom from sins. Second, courage and patience. Third, gentleness and kindness — for the man who does not know how to be angry with those who hurt him will be far readier to serve those who love him. Fourth, to be free from anger all the time, and nothing can equal that. It is quite plain that the man who is free from anger is also freed from the dejection that comes from it, and will not spend his life in useless toil and sorrow. For the man who does not know how to hate does not know how to grieve either; he will enjoy pleasure and countless blessings.

So we punish ourselves by hating others, just as, on the other hand, we benefit ourselves by loving them.

Besides all this, you will be revered even by your enemies, even if they are demons — or rather, you will not even have an enemy while you are of such a mind.

But what is greater than all of this, and comes first: you win God’s favor. If you have sinned, you will obtain pardon; if you have done right, you will gain greater confidence. So let us achieve this — hating no one — so that God too may love us, and so that, though we owe ten thousand talents, he may have compassion and pity on us.

But have you been wronged by him? Then pity him; do not hate him. Weep and mourn for him; do not turn away from him. It is not you who have offended against God, but he; you have even proved yourself, if you bear it. Consider that Christ, when he was about to be crucified, rejoiced for himself but wept for those who were crucifying him. This ought to be our attitude too: the more we are wronged, the more we should grieve for those who wrong us. For us, many benefits come of it; for them, the opposite.

But did he insult you and strike you in front of everyone? Then he has disgraced and dishonored himself in front of everyone. He has opened the mouths of a thousand accusers, woven more crowns for you, and gathered many to spread the news of your forbearance.

But did he slander you to others? And what of it? God is the one who will demand the account, not those who heard it. He has added to his own grounds for punishment, so that he must give account not only for his own sins but also for what he said about you. He has brought you a bad name among people, but he himself has earned a bad name with God.

And if this is not enough for you, consider that even your Lord was slandered, both by Satan and by people, and that to those he loved most; and his only Son the same again. That is why he said, “If they have called the master of the house Beelzebub, how much more will they call those of his household.”

And that wicked demon not only slandered him, but was believed, and slandered him not in ordinary matters, but with the gravest insults and charges. For he declared him to be possessed, and a deceiver, and an enemy of God.

But have you also done good and received evil in return? Then for this above all grieve and mourn for the man who did the wrong, but for yourself rather rejoice, because you have become like God, “who makes the sun rise on the evil and the good.”

But if following God is beyond you — though for one who is watchful not even this is hard — still, if it seems too great for you, come, let us bring you to your fellow servants: to Joseph, who suffered countless wrongs and did good to his brothers; to Moses, who prayed for them after their countless plots against him; to the blessed Paul, who cannot even count what he suffered from them, and is willing to be accursed for them; to Stephen, who is stoned and begs that this sin may be forgiven them. Having considered all these things, cast away all anger, so that God may also forgive us all our trespasses, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom be glory, power, and honor to the Father and the Holy Spirit, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.