Back on June 8th, in our reading for Sunday Mass, we heard the story of the Call of Saint Matthew, with Jesus inviting the tax-collector to “follow me.”

It is a simple invitation given by our Lord, but a shocking one too. As a tax collector, Matthew is protected by the Roman government, but also in a way turns his back on his own people; for tax collectors were Jews working for an occupying force, and worse, took more money then was owed to support themselves as they were not paid by Rome. Jesus, being Jewish, should in the eyes of many shun such a man. But He calls him to “follow him.” Pretty shocking indeed.

Note too how Jesus does not give Matthew a laundry list of things to do before he can follow Him; rather it is a simple command: “follow me”. But in this, we see the kind of love that our Lord has – a love with no strings attached. One of the ways we try to emulate that love is by sharing it with others, including those who have hurt us.

This led me to want to reflect on forgiveness a bit for my homily that week, but I try to point out that forgiveness isn’t necessarily easy. That goes for ourselves too; sometimes we can really get down on ourselves or want to look in the rear-view mirror and see where we failed, without seeing the good in us or how we have changed. But making steps to forgive ourselves and one another is so important. Sometimes it takes a long time; and sometimes anger and hurt return. But I think when we try to make steps toward reconciliation, remarkable things can happen. The choice is ours: do we let hate win out and rupture our relationships, or do we try to make gradual steps toward healing and confront our feelings?

I also found a good web site, the Forgiveness Project:
http://www.theforgivenessproject.com/

It shares remarkable stories of forgiveness, from which I took two examples for my homily that day.

Here are the readings for the day as well:

http://www.usccb.org/nab/readings/060808.shtml

How beautiful forgiveness of one another and of ourselves can be if we give it the chance. Hopefully we do that, but at the same time remember it is OK even if we are angry for a time, have temporal bitterness or need time to heal. We aren’t divine, we are human. The thing of it is there is a big difference between hate and anger at actions. Living out those words to “follow me” can be so tough, especially following the kind of forgiveness our Lord showed to both Matthew and to all who crucified Him. But when we allow ourselves to move toward forgiving ourselves and one another, what incredible things can occur in our lives and the lives of those whom we forgive, as the love of God is seen with greater clarity.
Here’s the text of my homily for that day:

***

Nowadays if you refer to the “taxman” you probably mean the government, as there isn’t literally someone who goes around door to door to collect taxes anymore. But that wasn’t the case during the time that Jesus walked the earth.

Tax collectors were individuals who worked for the state and collected money from people. And as such, they were despised. Even more so, they were disliked because the work they did tended to exploit the poor and support an elaborate lifestyle. Especially despised were Jews who collaborated with Rome. If you were a self-respecting Jew, you certainly wanted to stay away from these people, because they were seen as treasonous, turning their backs on their own people, and even worse, stealing from them, as to make his living, the tax collector had to collect more than was owed, keeping the excesses for himself.

Needless to say, these were the kind of people one would expect to be in the shadows and remain in the dark, and certainly not be a part of the broader community. Perhaps this is what the famous painter, Michaelangelo Caravaggio had in mind when painted his masterpiece, the call of Matthew. I saw it for the first time on an invitation that was sent out to an ordination party, and if you haven’t seen it, it depicts a group of tax collectors, huddled over their money. What is really fascinating with this painting is how Caravaggio makes use of light. On the right end of the painting is Jesus, with light coming in behind Him. His arm is pointing towards Matthew, who is huddled over the pile of cash, with his friends in darkness. Matthew is pointing to himself and appears sort of speechless, as if he is saying “who, me?” My hunch is that it the painting pretty much depicts the situation as it was, save for the renaissance clothing that the tax collectors are wearing. Matthew would have been astonished that Jesus would have anything to do with him, which explains why the Pharisees are so upset that Jesus takes this action in reaching out to Matthew. But Jesus offers Matthew this invitation with no strings attached, saying “follow me” not “get your life in order and then make amends and follow me” or setting out some other requirements for him to meet, but rather extends him this invitation with no strings attached.

He then says something interesting to the scandalized Pharisees who ask why He is doing such a thing. Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick do: Go and learn what this means, I desire mercy, not sacrifice. For I came to call not the righteous, but sinners. Challenging words on several levels.

For one, sometimes we can all be a bit judgmental on people. I’m just as guilty of it as anyone else. But we have to remember that when we say those words before Communion, “Lord, I am not worthy to receive you,” they don’t apply to just some of us but rather to all of us. We are all in need of the sacraments, because of the effects of sin, we are sick in a sense; the sacraments are God’s coming to us to help heal us. The Pharisees have a hard time seeing that though; they see themselves as righteous. Jesus tells them to learn the meaning of the words that He speaks, which is why they have to come to realize their own bankruptcy and need for God to be in their lives. Their problem is they think they have reached the finish line and have made it. The Pharisees see themselves as lacking nothing, and as such are unable to receive Christ. As one preacher put it, even the charity of God can’t bandage what has no wounds, and it is a paradox that “good people” are impervious to grace. Indeed, we can look at our lives and be proud of those things we accomplished. Maybe we have made great strides, and know people who are at a much earlier stage in their faith journey. Our challenge though is to resist the temptation to think “I have it all figured out,” because as we know so often that just isn’t the case. We need Christ’s continual presence through the sacraments and through other people, and I think one of the primary ways that we do that is through forgiveness.

Jesus closes the Gospel by saying that he desires mercy, not sacrifice. Here Jesus quotes our first reading from Hosea. Hosea was a prophet in the northern Kingdom of Israel challenging a king to serve God, and in that book, Hosea is married to an unfaithful woman named Gomer. Despite his wife being unfaithful to him, he seeks reconciliation, with his marriage symbolizing God’s relationship with Israel: time and time in the Old Testament, Israel is unfaithful to the covenant, but nonetheless God remains faithful to His end of the bargain, and continually reaches out to Israel. In that first reading, we hear how God challenges the people to true conversion – they have to put words into action not through some false piety or show of sacrifice, but rather truly take God’s words to heart. That is our challenge too, and hopefully we do that by being open to receiving and giving forgiveness. But both can be so tough.

Many for instance are really wronged in life, and hurt deeply by someone else. One such person was Vicar Julie Nicholson, who is an Anglican priest in the inner-city of London. Her daughter was one of the victims of the July 7th, 2005 bombings that took place on the metro train in London. She decided to resign her position at her church because she said that she was no longer able to preach forgiveness. However, in an article that was written about her story event by Vicar Ruth Scott, also an Anglican priest, she points out that grief needs its own time and space. At the time the article was written, 8 months had passed since she lost her daughter, and the author points out that Vicar Nicholson chose the path that allows her to reflect more deeply on those words “forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” That seemingly happens right away in the call of Matthew, and indeed forgiveness is offered with no strings attached every time we come to our Lord. But when we are wronged, we should not feel bad if feelings of anger remain. Indeed as Scott points out, “living forgiveness has nothing to do with not feeling hate for the one who has hurt us. It is about acknowledging the validity of our sometimes violent emotions in the face of what has happened.” The problem though is being human, sometimes we can have a knee-jerk reaction to being hurt: we internalize the anger and let it grow, or pretend that it is not there. Rather, we are called to follow the way of the Master and extend mercy, and doing that can
take a very long time. But Scott points out in her article how that is OK, stating that “we may well go to pieces on this way of forgiveness, experience violent responses to what has happened, and move one step forward only to fall back time after time, but we will have made a choice about our direction that can become a source of strength, not guilt, to us.” Profound words, because we too have that choice. If we are going to do as Matthew and follow Jesus, and learn the meaning of the words “I desire mercy,” we have to take them to heart and keep trying to do just that to those who have hurt us, bringing the light of Christ to them, while at the same time realizing there may be moments of anger and resentment too. The past can’t be forgotten with some magic wand; but we can make a choice: am I going to try to forgive and repair this relationship, or am I going to let the darkness of hate and anger win out?

Finally, I think we also have to let those words apply to ourselves. Scott serves as a trustee of the non-partisan charity “The Forgiveness Project,” which promotes conflict resolution by collecting and sharing the stories of those who have experienced conflict and violence. There are a number of remarkable stories there, including one shared by Mary. She wasn’t really wronged by someone significantly, but rather caused harm to her son by drinking during the pregnancy, which had come as a surprise. She states that she thought she could control her drinking during the pregnancy, but she had relentless depression and even suicidal planning during the pregnancy, which sadly led her to continue drinking. Early in her sons life, it then became apparent that he had some developmental disabilities, due to fetal alcohol syndrome. Despite that, she tells of how her son was still full of life, and cheerful, funny and loving. Mary entered therapy, which helped and she successfully completed a recovery program, and her family relationships improved. But as her son became older and more self-aware and frustrated with his disabilities, the guilt continued to gnaw away at Mary. She would tell him that alcohol had damaged his brain and that it wasn’t his fault, and of her sorrow for her actions. This helped Michael, but for Mary she says that she was still haunted by shame and self-hatred, saying she couldn’t see how to forgive herself which blocked spiritual healing and growth. It was one day when they were driving together and he was 11 years old that he understood the situation, saying to his mom “Do you mean you drank alcohol when you were pregnant with me?” His moms eyes filled with tears, as she said yes and told her son that she hoped someday he could forgive her for this. But, after asking her if she was really sorry, he smiled gently at her and said to her quietly “I don’t mind. I love you mommy.” Mary says that at that point, time stopped for an instant, and she heard a voice saying “If he can forgive you this, who are you to not forgive yourself?” With his help, she did, and her life was changed.

Mary and Michael’s story is so beautiful because it shows perfectly what the power of love and mercy can accomplish when it dispels the darkness of shame. There are certainly people out there who are like the Pharisees, seeing themselves as self-righteous and not having any need for the Divine Physician, but I think more often than not for the practicing Christian, the temptation can be to place oneself in some self-imposed exile, at certain points in life, thinking “if only this person knew the real me” when we look at others who seemingly have everything figured out or are models of the faith, or when people praise us for what we do. But Jesus came to call us all, which is why we are a church of sinners and saints. He knows the real us, but if we are going to respond to His call, we have to be okay with the real us too and not run from His love and mercy or see ourselves as unworthy.

Indeed, if we are going to follow those words of our Gospel today, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice,” my hope is that we can lean how to do just that both for ourselves and one another. Each day of our lives, we have a choice: am I going to be like Matthew, and follow Him, or am I going to stay in the darkness, like the tax collector at the end of the table with his head down, and let the darkness of hate and anger for someone else take over, or the shame about my past rule the day. Indeed, it may take time for us to see the invitation of how we are to give and receive the mercy and love of our Lord, and accepting it may not make the pain of the past go away entirely. But I think the close of Mary’s story sums up our Gospel beautifully. She says the results speak for themselves in that, “we who experience self-forgiveness have gratitude, joy, peace, and willingness to share with others. Shame was transformed to grief and then serenity.” By following our Lord’s invitation and commandment, may we help make that same transformation both for ourselves and one another.