Debts and Debtors

Deuteronomy 15:1-2; Matthew 6:9-13; Matthew 18:23-35

We Presbyterians are rather adamant when it comes to debts and debtors—in an ecumenical worship service, we will ride right over everyone else’s trespasses, emphatically pronouncing the debts and debtors in the Lord’s Prayer, quietly intoning to ourselves the old hymn, “We shall not, we shall not be moved!” And we have scriptural backing—right there in the Gospel of Matthew—Jesus himself spells it out—debts and debtors. So, arms crossed, we settle back in theological smugness.

But, like all who are smug, our comeuppance comes quickly. Someone may audaciously ask, “Yes, but what does it mean?” Our smugness collapses in a humiliated shrug of ignorance. “I dunno,” we mumble.

That’s too bad because our forebears who insisted on the language of debt in corporate prayer were onto something important. They completely understood what Matthew was doing as he recollects Jesus invoking debts and debtors (to be completely transparent, Luke, the other source for the Lord’s Prayer does not intone debts and debtors, but inserts sin in the first half of the phrase). Matthew, reformed tax collector turned apostle, would, of course, invoke financial terminology in describing our relationship to God. He understood the concept completely—God made us, blessed us with life, and, in sin, we repudiate our Maker, literally owing God our lives since we take them completely for granted. The fact that God abides, still wants us with him, is a great gift of grace that puts us in a state of debt from which we can get no release save from further grace from God. So, as we make our way, we stand as debtors, undercutting any reason for thinking ourselves superior to anyone else; ergo, we fully accept the grace of God as we meet the world in graciousness. We cannot fully experience the release of our debt to God until we practice releasing all whom we consider in debt to ourselves.

Or, much more simply, to experience grace, be gracious.

Jesus’ Parable of the Unforgiving Servant explains this dynamic perfectly—a man falls into irreparable debt, but his lender forgives it completely in an act of mercy. However, no sooner is the man freed then he seeks retribution for another poor sod who owed him a pittance. He learned nothing and gained nothing but the rage of his lender. 

Point taken.

As we fully enter the stream of faith, our tendency to judge, critique, and then reject other human beings based on our self-appointed predilections is to be emptied. If we fully understand even the basics of what God has done in Christ, judgment flees in the face of joyous welcome. As one healed, we now seek the healing of others, sharing the wondrous good news of grace. To do otherwise would be like a physician discovering a cure for cancer in getting her own cancer treated, then withholding the cure from patients because she instead only wants to blame them for being sick. The good news dies.

So, we pray in our tradition of debts and debtors, continually reminding ourselves of who we were, who we are, and whom we need to be as we enter the human fray.

But there is still more to this concept to explore.

Our text from Deuteronomy proclaims the Jubilee, a wondrous moment that never once occurred in the actual history of Israel despite it being mandated in the Torah. On this year, all debts were to be cancelled. All of them. It even went so far as to mandate that if you acquired property from your neighbor as debt settlement, you had to return that property to its original owner (I guess an exception had to be made for a pot of lamb stew given as payment!). 

It is rather obvious why Israel found immediate reasons for viewing this commandment metaphorically instead as an actuality. Could you imagine the chaos caused by trying to implement this rule? 

But the theology remains wonderfully valid for us.

Here is an experience of the fullness of God’s grace in tangible terms—what is it like to experience the forgiveness of God? It is as if everyone forgave all of your debts—the car payment, the mortgage company, the hospital debt, the credit card company, and on through the list—every single dollar paid to offset a debt returned, including the interest. Wow. That boggles the mind. Yet, that is exactly what God has done for each of us—every sin, from the minutest slight to the grandest transgression incurs the same debt—we forfeit our lives because every sin from the slightest flaw to the greatest intentional hurt drives a wedge between us and the source of our lives. Karl Barth in a moment of beautifully poetic theology compared it to a rose cutting itself from the bush. God refuses to accept the cut. God refuses to let us fall into what rightfully is our due. 

No wonder Matthew found this analogy so powerful. As a tax collector, he knew really well the suffering debt brings to people. He saw families devastated by bills they could not pay. He saw people ruined by debt. He can well imagine what joy—real joy—would come to them if those debts were suddenly released. He can imagine it because he himself experienced it. He was rejected and reviled by everyone as a tax collector. Even as a committed practitioner of faith, he could find no solace at the temple, but only derision and scorn. His only company was a collection of other outcasts (see with whom he celebrates Christ’s call). His life, materially blessed as it was, was empty and void. Until the day Jesus called him. Then everything changed. Suddenly, he found joy, meaning, and hope that nothing could take from him.

So, as he remembers Christ teaching us to pray, his recollection is filtered through his experience—the words may not be exactly what Jesus said, but they are no less true because they completely capture what Jesus meant. Jubilee IS real. It can be experienced here and now. It can be a part of every human existence. All it takes is fully grasping the full extent and scope of God’s grace given to each of us.

We are free.

-We are free from sin’s power of alienation.

-We are free from the hurt and suffering of human willfulness. 

-We are free from all that robs life of meaning.

-We are free from the paralyzing power of guilt.

-We are free the existential finality of death.

We are free.

Joy is within our grasp—real joy—the joy of jubilee. We can drink deeply from the draughts of redeeming grace. It is ours. All debts have been paid.