Let us begin with a little focus on two words one might glean from this morning’s Gospel text – retention and loss. As for “loss,” we use that word in two different ways; when we say that we’ve “lost” something, it can mean either misplaced or vanished. So when one says, “I lost my car keys” (or nowadays the even more precious “fob”), one likely means that they have been misplaced. But when one says, “I lost five thousand dollars at –fill in the blank–,” one likely doesn’t mean I misplaced five thousand dollars. In that context, we may safely conclude that the five thousand dollars has vanished.
And yes, loss of money is generally spoken of in this way. Several other figures of speech are used in these contexts, one of the most popular being a drain or another plumbing fixture one might find in a bathroom. “Well, that fifty bucks just went down the drain” is a common lament heard after a failed investment of fifty dollars for one purpose or another. You get the point, though. Regardless of the figure of speech, you know that something has vanished that cannot be replaced. It’s gone forever…swept up into something much bigger that we can neither truly discover nor precisely identify.
As one who still uses cash more often than a card, I typically find myself at the mercy of machines into which I directly insert money, and, for me, the car wash is the place where this happens most frequently. Some might say that car washes are where one’s hard-earned money can simply vanish, and, given the quality of some of the wash jobs they provide, such an observation isn’t too far off. But I remember one such place where my money literally vanished.
This particular car wash offered the “premium” wash, which, of course, I had to choose, even though it might not have done a better job than the others. At the time, the premium wash went for the princely sum of nine dollars, and in my wallet I had a ten-dollar bill. But – guess what – the machine didn’t take ten-dollar bills! So I had to go back to a gas station, make an unnecessary purchase (because I feel I’m obligated to), and return to the car wash with my five-dollar bill – which was acceptable – and four ones. Now I’m ready to go.
It was a breezy day, but still, I was not prepared for what the breeze was going to do at this point. As I fiddled with my newly acquired five-dollar bill, suddenly the wind swept my precious currency away. I certainly hope that, wherever my five-dollar bill went, it fell into good hands and was put to good use. Considering the strong winds from the south that blew that day, it maybe tumbled its way up into Canada and found a favorable exchange rate. Who knows?
Experiences like that are humbling. Certainly, we waste money all the time, but never was it – for me, at least – so obvious how five dollars could simply vanish…never having had the chance to empower its bearer with the ability to purchase something.
And no, I’m not going to wait for that five-dollar bill to make its way back to me, because I could be waiting for a long, long time. What would be the point of that? Hopefully, as Christians, we see that “loss” isn’t always bad. It just depends on what you’re “losing.”
Which gets us into this morning’s Gospel text…
With today being the Second Sunday of Easter, we’re naturally drawn to post-resurrection accounts from the Gospels, and John, chapter 20, verses 19 through 31 visits us once again. Here, we find the disciples locked up in some house “for fear of the Jews” (John 20:19), and, not knowing entirely what was going on, they have a visitor…one who apparently could pass through walls or be beamed in or something like that. The visitor was Jesus. He returned after his resurrection with a very specific purpose.
First, a greeting – “Peace be with you” (20:19, 21). But that’s not the end of it. He bestows upon the disciples the Holy Spirit (20:22). You may ask, “What is this?” To put it as simply as possible, Jesus is giving them the Spirit, the Breath – the life-force, if you will – to continue the work that he did himself. And what was that work? Read on.
“If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained” (20:23).
That’s right! The disciples are being called to the same work to which Jesus was called – the forgiveness of sins – except that, unlike Jesus, they cannot die for someone’s sins. What they can do, however, is bind and loose (or retain and forgive) the sins of people through the proclamation of God’s Word. God’s Word announces the forgiveness of sins in Jesus Christ.
And whatever the disciples decide to do, Jesus makes it pretty clear that it’s in their hands now. If they forgive, all is forgiven; if they don’t, well…then what happens? A little familiarity with The Book of Common Prayer and the priesthood of the Episcopal Church might shed some light on this matter. We are, in fact, very much in keeping with the apostolic usage – which Jesus commends to the disciples right here – of rites of confession and absolution. On page 448 of the Prayer Book, in the order for Reconciliation of a Penitent, we find these words to be spoken by the priest: “Our Lord Jesus Christ, who has left power to his Church to absolve all sinners who truly repent and believe in him, of his great mercy forgive you all your offenses; and by his authority committed to me, I absolve you from all your sins: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”
After Jesus walks this earth no longer, his apostles and then eventually those ordained to ministry in his Church are entrusted with forgiving sins. Again, remember his words, “If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”
But isn’t God the One who forgives sins in the end? And what about not forgiving? Whose job description are we talking about here, anyway? Think about it this way: If the governor of a state grants clemency to a prisoner on death row, it is not the governor’s personal doing; rather, it is the state’s doing through the office of the governor. We speak similarly of the Church’s work through the office of the ministry. If you come to me for the rite of Reconciliation of a Penitent, I do not personally forgive you when I announce forgiveness; rather, I do so through the office with which the Church has entrusted me.
Now, this can be difficult to get across in a culture where everything is personal, including salvation. Actually, the individualizing of salvation is a product more of American religious culture than of anything scriptural or historical. Thus, we ought not think of the means by which we are saved as the sole property of God and the individual person. A community called “the Church” and an office called “the ministry” have something to do with it as well. Why would’ve Jesus bothered sending the disciples forth to forgive sins if all the work could’ve been done on one’s own?
But what about this language of retention? Is retention a good thing, especially after relating forgiveness to loosing or, perhaps, losing? Let’s look at this morning’s text again. We read: “If you retain the sins of any, they are retained” (20:23b). Now isn’t that odd? I might conclude that when I do not forgive others, God won’t forgive them, either. Again, this is the problem we get into when we think about this matter personally.
Sure, given one’s knowledge of Scripture, the works of Jesus Christ, and the needs of the Church, one may, on that basis, withhold forgiveness, too. But think back to the example of the governor – sometimes the governor might not grant clemency, again not because he holds some personal grudge against the prisoner, but because it wouldn’t be in the best interests of the state.
Viewed similarly, one might have to say “no” on occasion because that person needs a bit more time to work on things…and then forgiveness may be granted.
When you deal with this in your own lives, please don’t feel obligated to grant forgiveness to a person before you’re really ready – no good in doing that, either!
And what I will say about the personal dimension of retaining sins is that the wound of sin will fester when we constantly refuse to forgive. These types of situations arise when there are quarrels and disputes between acquaintances…and sometimes even friends. They may drag on for years, and, in such circumstances, “retaining” the sins of another leads to all sorts of unhealthy stuff…none of which Jesus intended for the disciples whom he sent out!
Yes, some things need to be retained occasionally. But many things need to be lost…like the weight of grudges that can dig into our side and produce festering sores on our souls. As for the things we do lose, like that five-dollar bill of mine, it doesn’t do us any good to sit around and bemoan their absence. Just accept the fact that they very likely may never come back.
There’s an old episode of M*A*S*H where Major Houlihan’s wedding ring got lost in the garbage, so the crew at the 4077th summoned a local peddler with access to a copy. Klinger then presented that ring to Major Houlihan as if he had found the original, but when she discovered an error in its inscription, she became enraged that it wasn’t the original. Klinger told her, “Major, that’s not fair. We were just trying to help.”
She then took some time to reconsider.
Some things are retained. Some things are lost. As long as the loss of things like wedding rings and five-dollar bills doesn’t lead us to retain frustration, blame, and grudge against someone, we’ve probably become pretty good at the “loss” known as forgiveness. We need to let things vanish and disappear, because otherwise their constant specter becomes a menace and burden. We cannot retain everything…nor should we.
God is pretty much the same, one might argue. As the disciples were called to carry on Jesus’ ministry of forgiveness, so too are we called to both give and receive that very same thing Jesus offered us first of all on the cross. If God never neither “misplaces” nor “loses” anything, think of how wondrous his gift of forgiveness truly is. He knows what need not be retained, and, yes, he knows what ought to be lost. If it’s sin, may it fly out of the sight of even God!
That’s what the sense of forgiveness should feel like…
Amen.
Write a comment: