Then Peter came and said to him, "Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?" 22 Jesus said to him, "Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times. 23 "For this reason the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his slaves. 24 When he began the reckoning, one who owed him ten thousand talents was brought to him; 25 and, as he could not pay, his lord ordered him to be sold, together with his wife and children and all his possessions, and payment to be made. 26 So the slave fell on his knees before him, saying, 'Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything.' 27 And out of pity for him, the lord of that slave released him and forgave him the debt. 28 But that same slave, as he went out, came upon one of his fellow slaves who owed him a hundred denarii; and seizing him by the throat, he said, 'Pay what you owe.' 29 Then his fellow slave fell down and pleaded with him, 'Have patience with me, and I will pay you.' 30 But he refused; then he went and threw him into prison until he would pay the debt. 31 When his fellow slaves saw what had happened, they were greatly distressed, and they went and reported to their lord all that had taken place. 32 Then his lord summoned him and said to him, 'You wicked slave! I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. 33 Should you not have had mercy on your fellow slave, as I had mercy on you?' 34 And in anger his lord handed him over to be tortured until he would pay his entire debt. 35 So my heavenly Father will also do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart."

To the question, "How many times should I be prepared to forgive," Jesus answers, "An unlimited number of times. Forgive over and over. As many times as you are wronged, that's how many times you need to forgive. We hear that, and we have to ask, "Is that realistic? Is that possible? Why would we even want to be that forgiving?" Sometimes indignation just feels too good to pass up.

In June, I drove down to North Carolina, camping out of my car and kayaking along the way. On the way back, I had a long, straight, freeway drive from early morning until late at night. Somewhere in New Jersey, four lanes of traffic had to squeeze down to one lane, one long lane, several miles long, moving about 1 mile an hour. It was hot. Everyone was tired. I'd been drinking a lot of water.

Then, all of a sudden, along the right side of this line of cars, in the breakdown lane, this jerk comes roaring by passing hundreds of cars so he can sneak into the line way up ahead. I don't want to get too graphic here, but what I had to say about him, in the privacy of my car, probably wasn't what Jesus would have said. Forgiving him didn't feel as if it would make the world a better place. If a State Trooper pulled him over and shot out his tires, and took away his driver's license for 10 years, that would make the world a better place.

So, before we get into a romantic swoon about the virtues of forgiveness, let's face it: there's a lot in this world to be indignant about - more than this trivial example, that is really just a harmless irritation.

Think of the Enron Corporation, where the executives siphoned hundreds of millions of dollars into their personal accounts, draining the company dry, falsified the financial reports, and dumped their own stock for hundreds of millions more in profit. And while they were doing that, they told the employees and shareholders that the company was in great shape, buy more stock. It'll go up. There was one I saw interviewed on TV, both Enron employees, who saw their retirement savings go from $400,000 to $1,000. Shouldn't those guys be stripped of all their wealth and put in jail before any talk of forgiveness?

Enron is a classic case of fraud, but most of us if not all of us, sooner or later, are lied to, betrayed, and hurt in a way that leaves a real emotional scar - a scar that changes how we look at life.

In my ministry over the years, there have been a few times, fortunately only a few, when a woman has been hit, or beat up, or emotionally abused over and over by a boyfriend or husband. Sometimes it's the other way around, but usually it's women who find themselves on the receiving end of this sort of thing. Almost always in those cases, there's a voice in that person's mind that says, "Aren't I supposed to forgive? Isn't that what marriage is about?"

Forgiveness is what marriage is about, but when things have broken down that far, when the mutuality and covenant of that relationship has been broken down that far, doesn't something else need to happen before any thought of forgiveness? Even Jesus, in the passage we read last week, seems to make room for the possibility that in some cases, some people need to be cut off and be told, "I've had it with you. You're not going to do that anymore."

Remember the text. Jesus says, in effect, "After you're tried to talk it out, if you still get nowhere, then let that person be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector" - in other words, shun that person. And there are other times when Jesus himself doesn't sound so forgiving and understanding himself. Don't cast your pearls before swine. Shake the dust from your feet. Jesus himself had a lot of reason to feel outraged.

One of the most tangled webs of outrage in the world today is the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. This has been going on for fifty years, but really it goes back much farther than that, even as far back as Cain and Abel, a brother's murder of a brother, for what he considered justifiable outrage.

The Israelis feel perfectly justified in being outraged with the Palestinians who never quit calling for the hatred and annihilation of the Jews. The Palestinians feel perfectly justified in being outraged at the Israelis who have kept them under armed guard in refugee camps for fifty years. What a mess that is. You have to wonder if either part even wants peace.

A lot of the world feels justified in being outraged at us and thinks we should be ashamed of ourselves for living the way we do, for caring more about our comforts and lifestyles and vacations and gasoline prices than whether they live or die. In an absolute sense, we're probably no more apathetic about other people than anyone else, but because we're privileged, because we're the only superpower, because the U.S. economy affects every other country in the world, more is expected of us, more is required of us. More should be required.

Everyone in the world has reason to be outraged, so it's no wonder that forgiveness has a hard time finding a foothold. But here's where Jesus teaching becomes so essential - no unrealistic, but profoundly realistic. It's precisely because everyone has some justification for their outrage that forgiveness is our only hope. At some point, we all need to get past arguing who deserves to be more outraged. This is no way to live. Certainly, even after Sept. 11, the United States is hardly the world's biggest victim.

The truth is, we're all guilty. We're all self-centered. We focus on the wrongs done to us more than any other wrongs. There's a murderous impulse in all of us. The story of Cain and Abel is one of the foundational stories of human history. There's a reason for that.

Why is this so hard for any government, including our own, to face up to? Imagine if world leaders started to talk this way.

Outrage can be useful. It can motivate us to do what we need to do. It can help us get away from someone who's beating us up. But in the long run, outrage is poison.

You've probably heard about parents whose child has been murdered, sometimes in the most horrible vicious manner - probably the worst nightmare any of us can imagine. Sometimes we hear about parents going to the prison to say to their child's murderer, "I forgive you." Why do they do that? Not because the killer has repented. They do it because it's the only way they can go on living.

Outrage can be necessary and fitting. But it also destroys those who can't let it go.