Dear brothers and sisters in Christ, there are wounds that heal quickly, and there are wounds we carry for years. Someone betrayed our trust, damaged our reputation, disappointed us deeply, perhaps even within our own family or parish community. We may continue with life, smile and even pray, while quietly keeping an account of what that person did. This Sunday, the Word of God asks us a difficult question: How long are we prepared to carry the debt of another person’s offence?

Our first reading comes from the Book of Sirach, written around the second century before Christ, when Jewish faith and identity were being challenged by the powerful influence of Greek culture. Sirach sought to teach ordinary believers how the wisdom of God should shape everyday life. His words are striking; “Resentment and anger, these are foul things.” He then asks, “Forgive your neighbour’s injustice; then when you pray, your own sins will be forgiven.” That is uncomfortable because resentment can sometimes feel justified. We tell ourselves, “After what they did to me, I have every right to be angry.” Sirach does not pretend that the wrong never happened. Rather, he warns us against allowing another person’s wrongdoing to take permanent possession of our hearts.

This prepares us for Peter’s question in the Gospel when he asked, “Lord, how often must I forgive my brother if he wrongs me? As often as seven times?” Peter probably thinks he is being extremely generous. But Jesus replies, “Not seven, I tell you but seventy-seven times.” Jesus is not giving Peter a larger calculator instead He is saying, stop counting. Matthew wrote his Gospel for a Christian community learning how to live together despite weakness, disagreement and sin. Immediately before this Sunday’s passage, Jesus taught them how to correct a brother or sister who does wrong. This Sunday He completes the teaching that correction must eventually make room for forgiveness. Otherwise, communities become places where yesterday’s mistakes determine tomorrow’s relationships. Jesus illustrates this through the servant who owes his king an enormous debt far beyond anything he could realistically repay. The king cancels everything. Yet that same servant goes out and refuses mercy to someone who owes him a comparatively small amount. The tragedy is that he received mercy without allowing mercy to change him.

And here lies the Gospel’s challenge to us. Every time we come to Mass, we stand before God as people whose debts have been cancelled by Christ. We begin by saying, “Lord, have mercy.” We pray, “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” We approach the altar to receive the Body and Blood of the One who, while being crucified, prayed “Father, forgive them.” How then can we leave the church and deliberately nourish hatred? Our society desperately needs this Gospel. Families are divided over inheritance. Friendships collapse because of words spoken years ago. Parishioners sometimes avoid one another while receiving Holy Communion from the same altar. Social media has created a culture in which an old mistake can be rediscovered, circulated and used to condemn someone permanently. Society speaks increasingly about “cancelling” people; Christ speaks about redeeming people.

But forgiveness does not mean pretending evil is good. It does not mean remaining in an abusive or dangerous situation. It does not remove the need for justice, accountability, safeguarding or appropriate boundaries. Christian forgiveness means something deeper: I refuse to allow what you did to turn me into a prisoner of hatred. I surrender vengeance to God and refuse to make your offence the controlling story of my life. Sometimes reconciliation is possible; sometimes, because the other person remains unwilling or unsafe, it is not. But forgiveness can begin even before reconciliation becomes possible. So perhaps there is one name each of us carries silently today. A husband, wife, child, sibling, friend, neighbour, parishioner, priest or colleague. Someone whose debt we are still calculating. And Jesus asks us today, How much mercy have you received from God? And how much of that mercy are you willing to give away?

At this Eucharist, let us place before Christ the wounds we cannot heal by ourselves. Let us ask for the grace to forgive, sometimes not once, but seventy-seven times. For forgiveness is not weakness. It is the courage to break the chain of hurt so that yesterday’s wound does not become tomorrow’s prison.

“The Lord is compassion and love, slow to anger and rich in mercy.” May the mercy we receive from Him become the mercy others encounter through us. Amen.