In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

A couple of questions for you this morning:

Take some time with your answers. You may want to put the questions into your subconscious and let your mind work on them. Meanwhile, I’ll go on with the sermon.

Sunday after Sunday we gather to worship. But who do we worship? Holy Scripture doesn’t give us an absolute or iron-clad picture of what the God we worship is like. For instance, some of the Psalms depict God as having forsaken the chosen people. Other Psalms speak of a God of “tender mercies.” This morning’s Psalm speaks of God as our “hiding place” who forgives us the guilt of sin and “preserves us from trouble.” At the same time, what kind of God would be drawn into a cosmic bet with Satan, as depicted in Job? What kind of God sends a messiah who is born in a stable and who dies on a cross? On this Fathers’ Day we call God “Our Father”, knowing full-well that God is not defined by gender.

So, what kind of God is this we worship? This may be the question faithful people always bring to church. Sunday after Sunday we come to explore this question. We are familiar with the traditional Trinitarian formula of Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier. This morning’s scriptures add yet another dimension to our portrait of the Holy One: God the Forgiver. That aspect of God, the dimension of the Forgiver, coupled with God as judge, is beautifully depicted in this morning’s lesson from the Hebrew Scriptures.

When I was growing up I had mixed feelings about being named David. It didn’t have the same “feel” as names like John or Mark. Single syllable names somehow feel stronger, don’t they? But I did enjoy the image of the biblical David. David and Goliath: the weak overcoming the strong; David the singer, the musician, the shepherd boy who becomes David the King. It wasn’t till later that I read the rest of the story: David the adulterer, David the schemer, David the murderer.

The biblical David is so human. He is so much like us in his many-sided personality. He has the capacity for greatness, and pettiness. He is able to express, in the most glowing ways, the “imageo dei”, the image of God which is in us; and, at the next point in his life to be, as Tallulah Bankhead once said about herself, “I’m as pure as the driven slush!”

You remember the story. David becomes King Saul’s court musician, then follows Saul to the throne. He is a mighty warrior-king, killing tens of thousands of the enemies of Israel. He becomes the greatest king known in Israel’s history. And with that power comes temptation and corruption. When he sees Bathsheba, bathing on a rooftop in Jerusalem, he becomes obsessed and falls in love with her. They have an affair and she becomes pregnant. Her husband, Uriah, is a captain in David’s army. David has Uriah moved to one of the advanced units on the front line where he is sure to be killed; and he is. That’s where today’s lesson picks up.

After Uriah’s death David marries Bathsheba and the child is born. Nathan, the prophet, in a wonderful and striking story of a rich man with many sheep who takes a poor man’s only lamb, confronts David with his sin with the resounding accusation, “You are the man.” David confesses his sin, asks forgiveness and receives it, “Now the Lord has put away your sin.” Forgiveness doesn’t erase the consequences of the sin; it is clear that sin, alienation, brokenness, causes chaos in David’s life. But forgiveness has occurred.

In today’s Gospel lesson we have a story of Jesus going to dinner at a religious leader’s home, a Pharisee by the name of Simon. A prostitute comes into the dining area and anoints Jesus’ feet with ointment and kisses his feet. Simon is scandalized. Jesus’ response is to forgive the woman’s sins and says to the indignant Pharisee, “The one to whom little is forgiven, loves little.”

That’s today’s theme: forgiveness and too little love. Many years ago J. B. Phillips wrote a book, Your God Is Too Small. The title could be changed for this morning: “Your Love Is Too Small.” We operate out of limited love. Today’s scripture reminds us of that fact. It contrasts the limited love of humanity with the unlimited love of God. Limited love prompted David to have Uriah killed in battle to cover up his adultery. Limited love cause Simon the Pharisee to question Jesus allowing a known sinner to touch him.

Of course we know that limited love is not just found in the Bible. Today we see limits put on love in many ways. The debate over immigration laws in Washington shows how limited we are in our society. The outcry against perceived amnesty is interesting to me. I’ve belonged to an organization called Amnesty International. I just happen to think amnesty or pardon or forgiveness is a good thing. We see limited love in our society when we see the increasing gap between us who have and those who have not. We love those who are like us.

So, we know that our human love is limited love. We, all too often, operate out of conditional love: “I’ll love you, if…” Our forgiveness seems the same. “If you change, if you’re really sorry, if you promise never to do it again, if you make the right amends over the right amount of time, then I might get around to forgiving you. Maybe. There are no guarantees. My self-respect, my offended pride, my value system demands no less.

We all know the problem: pride. We can’t forgive others because of our pride, so instead of forgiving I’ll just end the relationship. We can’t receive forgiveness because of our pride, because that means admitting I’ve done something which needs to be forgiven. Both the one who forgives and the one that needs to be forgiven, must swallow the same thing: their pride.

That seems to explain what Jesus meant when he taught us to pray, “Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us.” Jesus is not saying that God’s forgiveness is conditional on our forgiving others. But I think he is saying that the pride which keeps us from forgiving is the same pride which keeps us from accepting forgiveness. And we ask God please to help us do something about it.

Remember the questions I asked at the beginning of this sermon? Who do you need to forgive? From whom do you need forgiveness? Have you got your answers? I assure you that you can’t do it by yourself. You will need God’s help to forgive and to be forgiven.

Perhaps the most powerful symbol of forgiveness in the modern world rests on what is left of the high altar of the charred, skeletal remains of Coventry Cathedral, fire-bombed by the Germans in World War II. On the altar is set a cross, an unadorned cross of charred timbers: stark, simple, and powerful. A cross that makes everybody looking at it stop and be quiet. Underneath the cross are the words, “Father, Forgive.” Not “Father forgive those murderous Nazis”, but simply, “Father forgive.”

Forgive them,
Forgive us.
Forgive everybody.
Forgive King David.
Forgive Simon the Pharisee.
Forgive the prostitute.
Forgive those of us who live our lives not forgiving others.
Forgive those of us who forgive others.
Forgive those of us who live our lives somewhere in between.
Forgive those who are offended by your unprovoked, unmerited forgiveness.
Forgive us all, and in turn, help us forgive all those who have sinned against us. Amen.