11th Sunday after Pentecost / Martyrs Adrian and Natalia; Vladimir icon of the Theotokos / 1 Cor. 9.2-12; Matthew 18.23-35
F/S/HS. Brothers and sisters, there is a phrase that begins this morning’s Gospel, words that have always grabbed my heart, going all the way back to my teenage years. The opening words of v. 23, Therefore the kingdom of heaven is like … What is the kingdom of heaven like?
That phrase The Kingdom of heaven, it appears a whopping thirty-two times in this particular Gospel, the Gospel of Matthew. Fascinatingly, the phrase is unique to Matthew’s Gospel. Whereas the other Gospel writers—Mark, Luke, and John—they instead employ the kingdom of God. Which, for our purposes, is nearly synonymous with the kingdom of heaven.
I well remember as a late teenager sleeping on the beach along the Olympic Penninsula, near Nea Bay, Washington. It was midnight. I was wide awake, gazing up into the vast starry heavens. I’d heard that phrase The kingdom of heaven during several of the talks at Malibu, the Young Life Christian camp I had just attended that summer. What, I asked myself that midnight hour, caught up in prayer, what must the kingdom of heaven be like, O Lord, if and when I am hopefully welcome into it?
Surely, I heard myself telling myself, surely this kingdom must be a place of beauty, of peace and harmony, of adoration and worship of our God, of encountering resurrected loved ones and seeing angels; a place free from death and hatred and prejudice and sin. I couldn’t wait to see this kingdom of heaven, a place where, according to Matthew 8.11, we will all come from the east and the west, and sit down and feast with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.
Then, during my college years, I read C.S. Lewis’ Narnia stories. The land of Narnia expanded my vision of what the kingdom of heaven would be like. Then, during my college years, when I was a religion major, and as a grad student in theological seminary, my vision of the kingdom of God became vastly more nuanced.
The greatest surprise, one that landed on me at that time in my life as rather mind-blowing, is that this kingdom of heaven is not just a place to be experienced in some far off future, after one’s death only. Instead, Kairos time!!—that kingdom is right now; it is here in this very moment. Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand (Mt. 4.17), Jesus says as He inaugurates His public ministry, using the same words spoken by His cousin John the Baptist (Mt. 3.2).
And most radical was that this kingdom at hand wasn’t just all around me; it lived within me. Luke 17, vss. 20-21 came to mean so much to me during this season of my life: Now when [Jesus] was asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God would come, He answered them and said, ‘The kingdom of God does not come with observation, nor will they say ‘See here!’ or “See there!’ For indeed, the kingdom of heaven is within you.
I well remember one particular class with some of the young children at St. Basil Academy several years ago, where I was explaining to them what Jesus meant by the kingdom of heaven being within you. A little girl—I forget her name—about six years old, her eyes shifted from me down to her tummy. The joy of surprise broke out on her face. She started pointing to her tummy, then broke out in speech: I didn’t know that the kingdom of heaven is in there!, continuing to point to her tummy. So sweet and precious, so innocent and guileless. So profound!
In the years just prior to my baptism into our Orthodox Faith, I started reading more and more of our ancient fathers, including their interpretation of the kingdom of heaven as used by Jesus in our four Gospels.
From our Lord’s Sermon on the Mount, the kingdom of heaven is made up of people who are poor in spirit, meek, who are merciful, are peacemakers, and who are pure in heart (Mt. 5.1-10). The kingdom of heaven is for those who seek first God’s kingdom (Mt. 6.33). The kingdom of heaven belongs to those who are like children: Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them, for of such is the kingdom of heaven, Jesus tells His Disciples and the crowds following Him (Mt. 19.14).
Then there are passages like this morning’s Gospel, where Jesus portrays the kingdom of heaven by sharing a story, in this case a story directly related to Peter’s question of how often should we forgive a brother who has sinned against us. Shall I forgive that brother up to seven times? Peter asks.
And Jesus’ answer: Seventy times seven (18.21). Followed then by Jesus’ story: The kingdom of heaven is like a certain king who wanted to settle accounts with his servants. And you know the rest of the story—a story about unlimited forgiveness, where a compassionate and grace-filled king forgives the debt of his servant. But then that servant in turn, after he has left the king, refuses to forgive the debt incurred by his own servant, and viciously throws him in jail unto he makes good on that debt.
The king then hears about his servant’ unforgiving heart. Followed by giving him over to be tortured. You wicked servant, he says, I forgave you all that debt because you begged me. Should you not also have had compassion on your fellow servant, just as I had pity on you? (vss. 32-33).
The story is of course not primarily about forgiving financial debts. It is a story about our sin, about God forgiving our sin, and a story about forgiving one another’s sin. Just as the king shows both mercy and severity toward his servant, so does God show love and strictness toward us, depending on our willingness to forgive our brothers and sisters.
The love of God, and our love for others, is manifested in the story as a letting go of sins. Because God forgives us, we in turn are obliged to grant this same gift of forgiveness to others.
Dear ones, dear brothers and sister, this is serious, serious stuff. From our lips we preach forgiveness; from our lips we give the appearance of aspiring to forgive our brothers and sisters. Yet down in our hearts we quietly nurse contempt and judgment and vile thoughts about others.
And God knows our hearts, just as Jesus knew the hearts of those who on the outside looked clean and pure and righteous, yet on the inside were something else. Woe to you [you] hypocrites. For you are like whitewashed tombs which appear beautiful outwardly, but inside are full of dead men’s bones and all uncleanness (Mt. 23.27).
How often do we, like the king’s servant in this morning’s Gospel story, come running to God, asking our Lord to forgive us our many sins. At least this servant recognized his own sin. But like him, we then in turn so easily see the sins of another, so easily blame the other, so easily see the speck in their eye while not naming the plank in our own eye. And why do you look at the speck in your brother’s eye, our Lord says in His Sermon on the Mount, but do not consider the plank in your own eye? [You] hypocrite! First remove the plank from your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye (Mt. 7.3-5).
Sisters and brothers, the kingdom of heaven is made up of people who forgive one another’s sin. Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors, we will sing several minutes from now, in the Lord’s Prayer. Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. And since the kingdom of heaven is not a place far off in the future, but instead a place right here, deep in our hearts, this forgiveness starts now; it starts down in our hearts, extended to others who trouble us, who offend us, who may have even sinned against us.
The kingdom of heaven! A place of eternal rest, where the faithful reside. And a place here and now, down in our hearts. Let us honor that kingdom and its King by forgiving as He asks us to forgive. F/S/HS
