Forgiveness (Matthew 18:21-35)

On January 6, 2003, I was preparing newsletters at the small northern California church where I was the pastor.  At the time, the church had no secretary, so it was up to me to put out the monthly newsletter. 

I was in the church office, running off copies and folding the newsletters, and listening to NPR.  At the top of the hour, the morning’s headlines were read over the air, and one headline that caught my attention was the breaking news story of a Metrolink train collision in Burbank, California.

It caught my attention because, at the time, my sister was using Metrolink to commute to work.  Many trains go back and forth on those tracks each day, but as it turned out, my sister was on the train that crashed.  On that particular day, her infant daughter was with her as well. 

The crash was caused when the driver of a truck ignored the warning lights and gates and crossed the tracks as the train approached.  The train slammed into the truck, ripping it in half, and dragged the cab of the truck a quarter mile down the track before coming to a stop.  The driver of the truck was killed.

My sister said she felt a sudden bumpiness.  A fellow passenger yelled to my sister to get down, and they dropped to the floor as the train car they were riding in came off the tracks and tipped over on its side.

There were 59 passengers and 2 crewmembers onboard at the time of the accident.  Twelve of the passengers were transported to area hospitals.  Another 20 sustained minor injuries and were treated at the scene. 

One elderly woman died two weeks after the accident from internal injuries that, according to the official accident report, were probably sustained during the collision.

Fortunately, my sister and my niece were fine.  My sister recalls wandering around the wreckage afterward, waiting to be released, and hearing from another passenger that a news crew had heard that a mother and baby had survived the wreck, and they were looking for them to interview them. However, we Bradfields can be somewhat shy, and my sister somehow evaded the news cameras.

As for me, I was thankful that my sister and my niece were uninjured.  And what a story they now have to tell!

But as the weeks went by, I noticed an uneasy feeling developing within me.  After some time of reflection, I realized what it was:  I was angry and bitter at the truck driver for causing this accident.  I wanted him to be held accountable for what he had done, knowing that it could have easily turned out a lot worse for my sister.  How dare he put all those lives in jeopardy!  I wanted to see him punished.

Then I remembered that he was already dead.

So now what was I supposed to do with my anger and my bitterness? 

For awhile, I held on to it.  And in holding on to my anger and bitterness, I realized I was not alone.  All around me, I discovered lots of people filled with anger and bitterness, over all sorts of things; people holding grudges because of minor offenses that were committed a long ago. 

Their bitterness and anger consume them, and leads them to make choices every day that they think will punish the person to whom their anger is directed, but really, they are only punishing themselves.

That’s what I realized about my own anger and bitterness:  it was only hurting me.  And the only way to let go of the anger and bitterness was to forgive the driver of the truck in my heart.

Which I did.

It wasn’t a matter of whether or not he deserved my forgiveness.  That didn’t matter.  All I knew was that I needed to forgive him, so that I could put aside my anger and bitterness.  If I hadn’t forgiven him in my heart, my anger and bitterness would have caused much suffering for me, and for those around me.

As it turned out, when the official accident report was released almost a year later, it noted that the intersection where the accident took place was a confusing and dangerous one, and the warning signals and lack of safety features at that site were likely confusing to the truck driver.  In other words, it may not have even been his fault.  I had assumed – based on what I heard in the media – that he was simply an impatient driver who couldn’t be bothered with waiting for a train to go by, that he had tried to race the train and save himself a minute or two.  Turns out that this was probably not the case.

Which means that, not only was my anger and bitterness at the truck driver only hurting me, but also that it was based on a false understanding of what had happened.  And the truth is that, so often, the anger we experience toward one another is, in fact, based on perceptions and understandings that are false.

There is an old tale told in Vietnam about a man and his wife.  I came across this story just the other day in a book I’m reading by Thich Nhat Hanh.  According to Thich Nhat Hanh, the story goes like this:

The man and his wife were very much in love, but war had broken out, and the young man was called up to serve in the army.  His wife was pregnant, but he had to leave.

Three years later, he returned home.  His wife was very happy, and with their son whom the man had not yet seen, she stood at the entrance of the village and welcomed home her husband.

One day the woman went to market.  While she was away, the father tried to persuade his little boy to call him “Daddy.”  But the boy said, “You’re not my daddy.  My daddy is another man who comes every evening.  My mommy talks to him for a long time, and she cries with him.  Every time my mommy sits down, he sits down also.  And every time she lies down, he lies down too.”

The father became very sad.  He began spending time at the bar, to drown his sorrows.  He never said anything to his wife, but ignored her.  Eventually she became sad, and lonely,… so much so that she threw herself into the river and drowned.

Here’s how Thich Nhat Hanh tells the end of the story:

When he heard this, the man returned home to his son.  When it was dark, he lit the gas lamp.  Suddenly, the little boy began to shout, “There, there is my father,” and he pointed to the man’s shadow on the wall.  “Every night my daddy comes, and Mommy talks to him for hours and hours, and she cries a lot.  Every time mommy sits down, he sits down too.”

Suddenly the man realized the truth.  The man who had come every evening was actually the mother’s shadow.  The truth was that the young woman had waited faithfully for her husband.  But one day, the little boy came home and said, “Mommy, every other boy and girl has a father.  Where is my father?”

So she pointed to her shadow on the wall and said, “That’s your father.  You can say ‘Good morning, Daddy,’ and ‘Good night, Daddy’ to him.”  And she had talked to the shadow to convince the boy.  Now the truth was out, but it was too late.

Fortunately, my anger and bitterness toward the truck driver did not have such tragic consequences.  But it was based, in part, on a false understanding, and it did still cause me to suffer inside, until I was able to find my way to forgiveness.

Two weeks ago, I was fortunate to be able to attend the annual Interfaith breakfast, hosted by CCEJ, the California Conference for Equality and Justice.  CCEJ does a lot of wonderful work.  One of the things it does is organize a camp called “Building Bridges,” which helps young people overcome racism.  At least one of our own youth has attended this camp.

The breakfast was organized by Mayor Bob Foster and Rev. Sunshine Daye.  The keynote speaker was a man named Azim Khamisa, who shared with us a very moving account of an event in his life, which I, in turn, would like to share with you.

In 1995, Azim’s only son, Tariq – who was 20 years old at the time – was shot and killed by 14 year-old Tony Hicks.  Tariq was working to support his college expenses by delivering pizzas, and Tony was part of a gang that decided to rob Tariq of the pizzas he was delivering.  And so, over a couple of pizzas, Tariq was killed.

Azim was devastated over the loss of his only son.  Azim said:  “I felt numb for weeks.  The pain was too great… When my feelings slowly started to come back, one of the first things I felt was anger.  But mostly my anger was at our country, our society, for not doing anything to stop more and more children every year from killing and being killed.”

Azim felt caught in a situation beyond his control; but then he realized he did have control over how he responded.  He had a choice, and he chose to turn his grief into positive action.  He said, “In our country, we lose thirteen kids a day to a gun.  And on both ends of the gun there is a tragedy.  That’s why I decided to reach out to the family of Tony Hicks, who pulled the trigger on Tariq…

“I forgave Tony Hicks.  I forgave him with all my heart.  I chose forgiveness so I could begin to heal the gaping wound left in my soul when my son was killed.”

Azim started the Tariq Khamisa Foundation, which works to end violence among young people.  He went and met with Tony Hick’s grandfather, who was Tony’s guardian at the time Tony shot Tariq.  He told Tony’s grandfather that he wanted him to know that he did not have any feelings of revenge toward him or his family. 

Tony’s grandfather offered his condolences, and the two men recognized each other’s loss, and formed an instant bond.  Tony’s grandfather has been a part of the Tariq Khamisa Foundation ever since. 

He said of Azim, “Here was a man of spirit, a God-loving man … who demonstrated such love and compassion… Azim showed me the road to healing.  As we talked, I could feel the shroud of pain start to lift.  I realized we had the potential to not only help heal each other, but perhaps contribute to the healing of people we didn’t even know.”

Tony Hicks was the youngest person ever tried as an adult in the state of California.  At his sentencing, he shared this statement:

“From my grandfather, I have learned about the Khamisa family and their only son Tariq.  I have learned about the love they have for him… and the compassion the Khamisa family has for me.

“I often think about the night I shot Tariq, especially when I’m alone in my cell… I still don’t know why I shot Tariq.  I didn’t really want to hurt him or anyone else.  I’m sorry.  I’m sorry for killing Tariq and hurting his family.  I’m sorry for the pain that I caused for Tariq’s father, Mr. Khamisa.  I pray to God every day that Mr. Khamisa will forgive me for what I have done, and for as long as I live I will continue to pray to God to give him strength to deal with his loss.”

Today, Azim Khamisa is looking forward to the day when Tony Hicks is released from prison.  He has assured Tony that there is a job waiting for him at the Tariq Khamisa Foundation.

Peter Deddeh, who at the time worked for the San Diego District Attorney’s office, said of Azim, who is a practicing Muslim:  “Azim is not a Christian, but what he did struck me as the ultimate act of Christian forgiveness.”

How many times should we forgive someone who sins against us?  Seven times? 

Jesus answered:  Not seven times. Forgive seventy-seven times. Forgive seventy times seven times. Forgive as often as you yourself want healing. Otherwise pain and suffering will be yours, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart.