As we move into this new fall season in the church, our Sunday school teachers are using a new curriculum based on the lectionary, the assigned scripture readings for the day. The lectionary that we follow is used pretty much throughout the Protestant and Catholic world, so that if you were to worship this morning in a Presbyterian church, or Lutheran, or Episcopal or Catholic, anywhere around the world, you would hear the same scriptures being read. And in our congregation now, by design, what is being read and sung and prayed about and preached here in the sanctuary is the same as what is being explored across the courtyard in the classrooms of our Education Building.

We decided to go this route some months back, and there's a lot to be said for it in terms of planning and coordination and the "multiplier effect." Families can discuss the day's themes together on the way home. Sunday school teachers can find in the worship service something that augments what they're attempting to convey to their students.

The lectionary provides order and consistency, but, as every preacher knows, sometimes it knocks the wind right out of you with what it prescribes for the day. When I looked and saw that, on September 15, I was going to have to say something about God's love and forgiveness, I tried every which way to wiggle out of it. Quite frankly, if it hadn't been for the Sunday school curriculum we'd already agreed to, I might well have taken an easier way out and chosen another text altogether for this day.

It's a good thing that we will be starting two small groups exploring "The Way of Forgiveness" this fall. Could there possibly be a harder topic for us to face on this September 15th than forgiveness? I doubt it. In these last weeks, our emotions have been stirred again and again as we have relived the events of last September 11th, as we have been reminded of what was done to us, of the violence and evil that destroyed so much, of the immeasurable grief and suffering that followed and continues to this day.

What can we possibly say of forgiveness?

Now, I know that if you're listening, many of you are sitting out there already defensive, thinking, "Surely, she's not going to tell us we have to forgive the terrorists. No way." I know you're thinking that, because I think that, too. I will say to you, confessionally, now, that I can think a lot of things about what might have driven them to their actions, or about the ways religion can be twisted and distorted into something sinister and evil, and so forth. But I cannot now, in my heart, go anywhere near the place of forgiveness.

Yet, even so, the lectionary gives us these texts, Paul's letter to the church in Rome, Matthew's gospel, the Good News of Jesus Christ. "Why do you pass judgement on your brother or sister? Why do you despise your sister or brother? You must forgive, not seven times, but seventy-seven."

As I was confronted by this prescribed text for the day, I felt like the seminary professor who told about being in his school's library, seeing a colleague, a professor of Pastoral Care, checking out a whole big pile of books. "What are you reading?" he asked. "I'm doing some research on forgiveness," replied his colleague. "I'm trying to find out if it really exists or not. You know, I see so little evidence of it in my work."

And so, together we must wrestle with what the Bible tells us of God's love and intent for us, that is so far beyond what we think we could ever realize. Let me suggest a few things for your reflection.

Forgiveness is a fundamental principle of Christianity. It goes to the heart of who we know ourselves to be as children of God, as disciples of Jesus Christ. And this is what we must wrestle with. It starts with the fact that God has first forgiven us. We are bold and audacious enough to trust that, in God's love, our sins are forgiven in Christ Jesus. And this is a Savior, we remember, who himself surely had to come to grips with the dynamics of forgiveness. It was he who found a way to forgive Peter, one of his closest friends, who denied him three times. It was he who taught us to pray, saying: "Forgive us our trespasses, our sin, as we forgive those who sin against us." It was he who, from the cross, pleaded with God to forgive those who were crucifying him. It was he who, even after Resurrection, still carried in his own body the wounds they inflicted. He, who saw the suffering of his people, he, who himself knew betrayal and excruciating pain, sought forgiveness. And he offers it to us.

Christian forgiveness is truly awesome. And it is very different from what passes for forgiveness in the popular culture, which perhaps we are more familiar with. For example, you often hear the expression: "forgive and forget." This can be therapeutic in many common, interpersonal spats. It's like saying: "Get over it. Get a life." Sometimes, this is just what we need to hear, to let bygones be bygones. But this does not go to the fullness of Christian forgiveness.

And sometimes forgiveness is defined as understanding the offender so as to empathize, walking a mile in their shoes, so to speak. For example, if you learn that someone has lashed out at you because they themselves have been hurt before by the same thing, you may find it easier to forgive their behavior. This may be critical in a variety of situations where true understanding of the other leads to insight and forgiveness for perceived wrong. But this also does not go to the fullness of Christian forgiveness.

Third on this list of what Christian forgiveness is NOT: it is not always about no longer feeling anger or resentment. Sometimes that is crucial. There was a beautiful piece in the Los Angeles Times last week about a man who was finally able to let go of anger towards his father, who had hurt him and failed him growing up.

He wrote about how free he felt, once he could finally let go of the anger he had carried for so many years. Again, you see, letting go of anger about something that happened a long time ago can lift a heavy, heavy load and bring healing, but even this does not go to the fullness of Christian forgiveness. We are not always asked to let go of our anger, but rather to focus it clearly on the injustice of the situation and demand repentance.

Lastly this morning, let me add that forgiveness is commonly taken to mean that the offender is absolved from responsibility for their actions. Haven't you heard someone ask, "But if I forgive what they did, aren't I just letting them off the hook? Saying what they did is OK? Letting them go scot free?" Let me just say that Christian forgiveness is something different altogether. It requires accountability and responsibility before reconciliation can begin.

Where does this leave us this morning, September 15, 2002? If forgiveness is not about forgetting, if it is much more than empathizing, more than getting over anger and not about dismissing or excusing . . . what is it? Is forgiveness ever possible in the face of the evil encountered in this world?

We can say this much-the God of justice and compassion will never ask us to say that terrorist violence was anything less than despicable and villainous. Any act of murderous or violent intent must be rebuked and condemned. Those who would willfully and cruelly inflict pain on others, in whatever form, must be stopped. We can also say that the God of history joins us in never forgetting. The God of righteousness fully comprehends our anger and has felt it already, as well, in the injustices of this world and the hardness of hearts.

Still, Jesus himself said, "Father forgive them, for they know not what they do." This means that we do not have the luxury of saying that the whole concept of forgiveness doesn't apply to this post-September 11th world. It means that, while we might say honestly that in our hearts at this moment there is no space to for-give, we can't let ourselves think that this is the final word on the subject, for ourselves, or for our world.