Forgiving Sins?

A friend and I were talking the other day and they asked about the order for confession and forgiveness at the beginning of our worship services.  We went over several interesting things but the main question revolved around the forgiveness.  When I pronounce forgiveness of sins, are people's sins really forgiven?

Folks have a hard time wrestling with this concept.  "How can you, Pastor Dave, forgive people's sins?  You're just a person, right?"

That's exactly right.

The key point here is that Dave isn't standing up there pronouncing these powerful words and making them come true by his strength, power, and grace.  My strength wouldn't suffice.  But Pastor Dave stands as a representative of God in that time and place.  The words I speak are not my own.  I'm simply declaring what God is saying to us all when confronted with our sins.

This explanation doesn't assuage people's worry when they define "Pastor" as a title of authority for its own sake.  "So you're a pastor!  What right does that give you to say those things?"  Again this is correct.  Too often "pastor" is just a badge, a self-contained, self-referential position much like a Facebook status.  "Pastor" becomes the center of the proceedings.  The congregation exists to acknowledge/respect/attend him.  That's when we start talking about "rights".

Pastor is supposed to be a position of service.  I don't stand up there as the center of worship for my own sake.  Rather I stand in service to God and to the people around me.  Instead of all the honor and work flowing from the congregation towards me, God's service and gracious gifts flow outward to the congregation.  Forgiving sins is not a matter of my personal authority.  ("I have the power!")  It's a recognition of the need for service. ("We need to hear that our sins are forgiven today so they won't hold sway over us or our worship and so we can stand before God with clean hearts.") Authority is necessary so that you'll understand that God's forgiveness isn't a matter of random chance or personal choice, that he really means it and he intentionally sent someone to tell you about it.  But the authority only exists to enable that service.

In other words, the power to say, "Your sins are forgiven" is not about me, it's about the gracious relationship God has with each of us.  I stand in awe of, in need of, and under the power of those words every time I speak them just as everybody else does.

Astute observers may notice that I usually change the words of the absolution from what's written in our hymnal.  The official text reads:

As a called and ordained minister of the church of Christ and by his authority I therefore declare to you [the forgiveness of your sins...]

Notice how they rested on the authority part.  There's nothing inherently incorrect about that.  Likely they were thinking, "We really, really, really want people to understand that this is real so we're going to emphasize the authority and power behind this!"  Perhaps they were considering folks in the pews who might be wavering about whether their own sins were really forgiven and wanted to leave no doubt.

In my experience, though, leaning that hard on the authority side of the equation brings up the response my friend had--"Who are you to say this?"--more than it assures people who might be wavering.  It causes raises doubt than it relieves.  That's why I alter the words to:

In true and faithful witness to the Gospel of Christ and by his authority I therefore declare to you...

Notice the authority is still there.  These words are both true and faithful...as solid as anything you'll find.  Both truth and faith are assumed to be higher than any one of us, though.  It's not my authority or even the church's.  This comes from something bigger than us all:  Jesus Christ dying on the cross for us that our sins might be forgiven.  Few of us would think to say to Christ, "Who are you to say this?"  If we did, he'd just quietly point to the cross and back to himself, then raise an eyebrow at us.

In any case, describing the process of forgiveness--Christ's grace flowing through the witness in that moment--seems more accurate and faithful than describing an unchanging, non-transferable authority vested in the pastor.

This language change also reminds us that forgiving others isn't just about us, our own feelings, or our rights to hold an offense against another.  If the pastor does something solely because of his authority as a pastor then by definition nobody else can do it.  But if the pastor does something because he's leading the way in following Christ then by definition everybody else has a responsibility to do it.  Our forgiveness begins each week in that central moment with the pronouncement by the pastor but it doesn't end there.

You, too, witness God to the world as you forgive people.  You also have to overcome your personal misgivings and imperfections in order to do so.  You become the pastor in the world when you engage in this process.

We like to think of forgiveness as a mushy, interpersonal process to which we commit all our feelings and which leaves us feeling completely better when we're done with it.  Anyone who's actually had to forgive someone knows that this isn't true.

It's easiest to see this with siblings, I think.  Siblings are often close but also tend to wound each other, particularly as they grow older.  We usually feel bad when we don't forgive our parents but we're OK resenting brothers and sisters.  But eventually the Thanksgiving rolls around when we decide to bury the hatchet.  Do we feel warm and fuzzy about doing it?  Not usually.  Is everything magically better afterwards as we're reunited in a glorious hug-fest followed by a perfect life?  No.  We forgive them because they're family, because we love them, and because it's the right thing to do.  We have to serve something beyond just our feelings in order to make this happen and we do, just like the pastor does on a Sunday morning.

This is also true of forgiving spouses.  It's often true when we forgive our children too.  When your 3-year-old just spilled permanent ink on your best dress you don't feel like forgiving him...ever.  And you're not, really...at least not when judging by your personal feelings.  You're going to say, "It's OK" at some point but you're going to be mad at him for a long, long time.  You don't forgive because you're you.  You forgive because you're mom.  That's what moms do.  That's where your mom authority comes from...not inside or from your feelings and desires but from following something greater than yourself into a forgiveness you know is necessary for the sake of you and your child both.  Again, this echoes the pastor on Sunday morning exactly.  Your mom mantle is your version of the pastor's robe.  "It's OK" is your version of "In true and faithful witness to the gospel of Christ I therefore declare to you the entire forgiveness of all your sins".

If somebody didn't do this for us boldly and publicly in worship we wouldn't have the pattern, nor feel the authority and ability, to get beyond our own selves and forgive others as God forgives us.  This is why the process of forgiveness and the authority behind it are important, not only to our worship lives but to our life period.

--Pastor Dave (pastordave@geneseelutheranparish.org)

Monday Morning Sermon (Part 1)

Last Sunday's bulletin was full of juicy, interesting scripture so we're going to take a detour this week.  Instead of a Monday sermon recap plus a bunch of other posts, we're going to spend a few days looking at the more thought-provoking parts of all our Sunday readings.  It's like a pastor's dream...a sermon that lasts all week!

We'll begin with the text upon which the sermon was based, James 2: 1-17.

2 My brothers and sisters, believers in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ must not show favoritism. 2 Suppose a man comes into your meeting wearing a gold ring and fine clothes, and a poor man in filthy old clothes also comes in. 3 If you show special attention to the man wearing fine clothes and say, “Here’s a good seat for you,” but say to the poor man, “You stand there” or “Sit on the floor by my feet,” 4 have you not discriminated among yourselves and become judges with evil thoughts?

5 Listen, my dear brothers and sisters: Has not God chosen those who are poor in the eyes of the world to be rich in faith and to inherit the kingdom he promised those who love him? 6 But you have dishonored the poor. Is it not the rich who are exploiting you? Are they not the ones who are dragging you into court? 7 Are they not the ones who are blaspheming the noble name of him to whom you belong?

8 If you really keep the royal law found in Scripture, “Love your neighbor as yourself,” you are doing right. 9 But if you show favoritism, you sin and are convicted by the law as lawbreakers. 10 For whoever keeps the whole law and yet stumbles at just one point is guilty of breaking all of it. 11 For he who said, “You shall not commit adultery,” also said, “You shall not murder.” If you do not commit adultery but do commit murder, you have become a lawbreaker.
12 Speak and act as those who are going to be judged by the law that gives freedom, 13 because judgment without mercy will be shown to anyone who has not been merciful. Mercy triumphs over judgment.

14 What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if someone claims to have faith but has no deeds? Can such faith save them? 15 Suppose a brother or a sister is without clothes and daily food. 16 If one of you says to them, “Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it? 17 In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead.

On Sunday we talked about the whole faith and works thing.  We'll get to that another day.  The other sermon I wanted to preach was on the paragraph from verses 8-13.  James makes a bold claim:  if you break one part of the Law you've broken it all.  I've talked about similar things using the same commandment he cites, "Love your neighbor as yourself."  But James takes it even further in verse 11 by pointing to the great Law-Giver.  The same One who said one part of the Law also said the other.  To go against his word in one way is the same as going against it in the other.

In one swoop James personalizes all of the Law and Scripture.  This is a brilliant corrective to the bugaboo we've been talking about for the last couple weeks:  objectifying (and thus depersonalizing and distancing) our faith.

As with sin two Sundays ago, as with faith last Sunday, we fall into the trap of thinking about offenses against the Law as things unto themselves.  "I committed this sin but I did not commit that one.  That sin is bigger or worse than the one I committed.  Therefore that person is a bigger sinner than I."  Offenses are described as detached objects with their own distinct mass.  They can be picked up and put down at will.  The implied goal:  don't pick up anything too heavy and you'll be OK.  It's all up to you!  The Law, then, is just a list of tables, delineating the offenses and how much they each weigh.

This loophole allows all kinds of nastiness to enter into our lives of faith.  This is exactly where the, "Oh yes, we're all sinners BUT..." mindset comes from.  That statement is inevitably followed by finger pointing at some person (or group of people) who are then ostracized from God's family by virtue of their terrible transgressions.  We'd never be so crass as to claim we're sinless.  We know God wouldn't like that.  So we allow ourselves a little sin while reserving the right to condemn our neighbors for their much greater ones.

James says, "Nuh-uh".  Sin isn't a detached object that can be weighed and measured.  Sin is a transgression against a person...God and the neighbor whom God loves.  Saying, "At least I didn't commit that sin" is the same as kicking your mom in the left shin and then saying, "At least I didn't kick you in the right one!  Or slap you!  Or pull your hair!  Remember Jimmy pulled your hair last week?  Don't you hate him worse?"  This makes no sense.  You hurt somebody.  You violated the trust of that relationship.  That's the point, not how you did it.

Personalizing the Law makes everything come crystal clear.  We're not spiritual accountants, doing the books.  We're in a living, breathing relationship with God and with our neighbors.  We have to tend to that relationship every day.  The Law tells us how to love God and how to care for the people whom God loves. He loves them so dearly that hurting even the least of them is the same as hurting him.  Understanding this is far different than understanding the Law as a choice between big and little sins, trying to figure out what we can get away with and who did worse or better than somebody else.  The latter way of thinking is self-centered, the former focused on caring for others.  The latter way puts you in the position of judging sins and everyone who commits them.  The former puts you in service to God and everyone around you.  They're opposite ways of thinking and cannot co-exist.

We say glibly, almost as a matter of rote, "We're in relationship with God."  It's an article of faith, one of those things that you say and then go, "Yeah, yeah, so let's get on to the important stuff."  We need to stop right there.  That IS the important stuff.  It's a real relationship.  Unless we start out seeing it as such we'll never understand the things we're trying to get on to.  That all of us have heard (and some have said) things like, "My sin is little and theirs is bigger" only shows how easy it is to forget the most basic, important things as we rush to justify ourselves and our own prerogatives.

I wonder who we think we're fooling?  You can almost see God standing there, waiting until our little speech runs down so he can tap us on the shoulder and say, "Pssst.  I'm still here.  Shall we talk about that shin-kicking incident now or do you want to justify it some more at the expense of your neighbor?"  Any other response besides, "I'm sorry" and then starting to tend to that relationship more faithfully is only more foolishness.

I pray you have wisdom and that all the people of faith around you will as well.

--Pastor Dave (pastordave@geneseelutheranparish.org)