The Kingdom of Mercy and Grace

The Economy of Grace

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “The Economy of Grace” Matthew 18:21-35

This week marked the twenty-fifth anniversary of 9/11. In lower Manhattan on Friday, family members read aloud the names of the 2,977 people killed in the attack on the twin towers. In that field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania, National Park Service employees rang bells for each passenger and crew member killed in the crash of Flight 93. At the Pentagon, an American flag was unfurled on the side of the building, marking the spot where the fourth plane crashed.

If we are old enough, we remember where we were on September 11, 2001. I was in seminary, teaching English to international grad students in Chicago. Duane was in the post office at Paul Smiths College. Where were you?

When they heard the news of the attacks on the World Trade Center, Talat Hamdani was teaching English at a Queens Middle School and her husband Saleem was operating his convenience store in Brooklyn. Their oldest son Salman was an EMT and cadet with the New York City Police Department. That morning, Salman was on his way to an internship when he witnessed smoke coming from the Twin Towers. He hurried to the scene to aid victims, using his police and EMT identification to get a ride through the restricted traffic. Salman never came home. Talat and her husband Saleem soon realized that the path to forgiveness would be difficult for them as they contended with both grief at their son’s death and suspicions of neighbors who conflated their Muslim faith with acts of terror.

Jesus knew how very difficult it is to practice forgiveness, so some of his toughest teachings tackle that difficult topic. Today’s lesson is one example. Peter thought he was terribly generous when he offered to forgive his neighbor seven times. Imagine his dismay when Jesus told him to extend the olive branch not seven but seventy-seven times, which basically meant that he should always forgive without limits.

To prove his point, Jesus told an outrageous, exaggerated parable about an unforgiving servant. A slave owed a ridiculous debt to his king—10,000 talents. A talent was the greatest monetary unit in the ancient Near East, a 150-pound weight of silver, worth fifteen years’ wages for a day laborer. The slave in Jesus’ story owed the king 150,000 years’ worth of labor. No one could pay that debt. But when the slave made an impassioned plea that touched the heart of the king, the unthinkable happened. In an act of sudden, undeserved mercy, the king cancelled the debt. 

We expect the forgiven slave to go and do likewise, but when granted the opportunity to forgive a fellow slave a relatively small debt, the hard-hearted scoundrel shocked us with his ruthlessness, seizing his debtor by the throat and throwing him into prison. When a whistleblower got ahold of the royal ear, the king forgot about the mercy and promised the unforgiving servant a life of pain and punishment.

It’s a story of hyperbole—over-the-top exaggeration—a rhetorical strategy used to make a point. As followers of Christ, we are to forgive as we have been forgiven. In God’s limitless love and mercy for us, we are to find the capacity to be merciful to others, even those who have terribly wronged us, who are in our moral debt. Limitless forgiveness—really, Lord?

It’s tempting to write off Jesus’ words as a moral ideal that is beyond our reach, but Jesus knew the hard work of forgiveness. His family accused him of being crazy. His home church in Nazareth tried to kill him. Jesus was betrayed by Judas. Abandoned by the disciples. Denied three times by Peter. Condemned to death by the religious and political authorities. Mocked, taunted, and abused by his neighbors. Brutally scourged, beaten, and executed by those who surrounded him at the last, gambling for his clothes. Still, Jesus had the moral courage to pray even as he was dying, “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

We aren’t Jesus, rejected and dying on a cross. We may not have lost a beloved one on 9/11. Yet, we all know how it feels to struggle to forgive. We have had to live with the consequences of a loved one’s misconduct. Our parents mistreat or fail us. Our kids reject us. Our friends betray us. Our elected officials disappoint us. We’ve been ripped off. We’ve been done dirty in the workplace. Our anger is righteous. The crimes against us are heinous. Those who have sinned show no remorse. Forgiveness is tough.

In the days following 9/11, the Hamdani family, who lost their son Salman, faced extraordinary scrutiny. Because of the family’s Muslim faith, investigators from the FBI and NYPD began questioning them about Salman. Congressman Gary Ackerman visited the family’s Bayside home and asked about Salman’s motives for becoming a police cadet and which Internet chat rooms he visited. When CIA officials came, they confiscated a college graduation photo of Salman, posing with a fellow student from Afghanistan. Reporters appeared at the family’s home. The New York Post published a story entitled, “Missing or Hiding? — Mystery of NYPD Cadet from Pakistan.” Anonymous “Wanted” posters were distributed featuring Salman’s NYPD cadet photo and the phrase “Hold and detain.” The implications were clear. There were people promoting the notion that, because he was a Muslim, Salman could have somehow been in league with terrorists.

In October 2001, Salman’s remains, medical bag, and identification were found in the wreckage of the North Tower at Ground Zero. His family wasn’t told of this discovery until March 2002 when he was officially cleared of all suspicion. Salman is mentioned in the USA PATRIOT Act, which states, “Many Arab Americans and Muslim Americans have acted heroically during the attacks on the United States, including Salman Hamdani, a 23-year-old New Yorker of Pakistani descent…” For Salman’s family, forgiveness has been complex. Of course, there was the matter of the terrorists who flew jets into the World Trade Center, but there was also that unreasonable cloud of suspicion, accusation, and prejudice that surrounded them when they were hurting most.

Jesus taught that we cannot be in right relationship with God if we are not in right relationship with others. Each week in worship, we pray together the prayer that Jesus taught us, “Forgive our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us.” In God’s Kingdom, there is a great economy of grace. The mercy that is so generously extended to us must be extended by us to others. That doesn’t mean that we allow ourselves to be abused, or pretend that our hurt doesn’t matter, or condone ongoing bad behavior. Instead, forgiveness is a choice. It’s a daily discipline of allowing the past to be the past, and moving forward into God’s future, with our broken hearts and broken lives stitched back together again with the needle and thread of grace. It’s a grace that was made to clear to us long ago on a lonely hilltop outside Jerusalem where an innocent man gave his life to forgive the sins of the world.

When Salman Hamdani’s father died in 2004, his widow Talat said that it was due to a broken heart—he couldn’t live with the death of his son on 9/11 or the painful way the family was treated in the months it took to learn of the recovery of his body. Talat has worked through her grief and hurt through her involvement with Peaceful Tomorrows, an organization founded by family members of those killed on September eleventh. Inspired by the life’s work of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., they seek to break cycles of violence with nonviolent direct action in the pursuit of justice.

Talat writes, “Salman was a casualty of 9/11 not because he was an EMT, or an NYPD Cadet, or for being a Muslim. He, like the other victims, was a casualty of 9/11 because he was an American and cherished the American values of democracy, liberty and freedom to pursue a faith of his choice. Hence, the best way to honor all the victims of 9/11 is to uphold these American values. We, as a nation, have to unite and overcome the ugly monster of prejudice and ignorance [through] forgiveness and reconciliation. It is imperative for each of us as individuals, as well as a nation.”

We all struggle to forgive, my friends. Yet Jesus asks us to join him in that great economy of grace, to join him on that beautiful, terrible, healing path that nudges our world a little closer to God’s Kingdom, the Kingdom where we, who owe unbearable, unpayable debts, experience undeserved mercy and limitless forgiveness. How many times shall we forgive? Not seven times, but seventy-seven times. May it be so.

Resources

Sharon Otterman. Obscuring a Muslim Name, and an American’s Sacrifice in The New York Times, Jan. 1, 2012. Accessed online at https://www.nytimes.com/2012/01/02/nyregion/sept-11-memorial-obscures-a-police-cadets-bravery.html

Talat Hamdani. “My son died as a first responder on 9/11” in CNN: Opinion, Sept. 11, 2013. Accessed online at https://www.cnn.com/2013/09/11/opinion/hamdani-9-11-memory

Peaceful Tomorrows. “Talat Hamdani.” Accessed online at https://www.peacefultomorrows.org/patricio-and-talat

Nicholas J. Schaser, “Commentary on Matthew 18:21-35” in Preaching This Week, Sept. 13, 2026. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-24/commentary-on-matthew-1821-35-7

David Lose. “Faith, Forgiveness, and 9-11” in Dear Working Preacher, Sept. 4, 2011. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/dear-working-preacher/faith-forgiveness-and-9-11

Karoline Lewis. “A Generous Forgiveness” in Dear Working Preacher, Sept. 7, 2014. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/dear-working-preacher/a-generous-forgiveness

Matthew 18:21-35

21 Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?”

22 Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.

23 “Therefore, the kingdom of heaven is like a king who wanted to settle accounts with his servants. 24 As he began the settlement, a man who owed him ten thousand talents was brought to him. 25 Since he was not able to pay, the master ordered that he and his wife and his children and all that he had be sold to repay the debt.

26 “At this the servant fell on his knees before him. ‘Be patient with me,’ he begged, ‘and I will pay back everything.’ 27 The servant’s master took pity on him, canceled the debt and let him go.

28 “But when that servant went out, he found one of his fellow servants who owed him a hundred denarii. He grabbed him and began to choke him. ‘Pay back what you owe me!’ he demanded.

29 “His fellow servant fell to his knees and begged him, ‘Be patient with me, and I will pay it back.’

30 “But he refused. Instead, he went off and had the man thrown into prison until he could pay the debt. 31 When the other servants saw what had happened, they were outraged and went and told their master everything that had happened.

32 “Then the master called the servant in. ‘You wicked servant,’ he said, ‘I canceled all that debt of yours because you begged me to. 33 Shouldn’t you have had mercy on your fellow servant just as I had on you?’ 34 In anger his master handed him over to the jailers to be tortured, until he should pay back all he owed.

35 “This is how my heavenly Father will treat each of you unless you forgive your brother or sister from your heart.”

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The Kingdom of Mercy and Grace

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “The Kingdom of Mercy and Grace” Luke 23:39-43

Jubilee is a Christian community and working farm set in the beautiful, rolling countryside of Comer, Georgia. For many years, until recent changes in our national immigration policy, the Jubilee partners welcomed refugees to their farm, offering a safe place to land for weary newcomers to our country, many of whom had survived exile and trauma, languishing for years in refugee camps around the world. When I visited Jubilee in 2008, I was drawn to a grove of oaks near the center of the 260-acre property. There, in a quiet clearing, stands a cemetery, a peaceful final resting place for both the residents of Jubilee and the people whom they have ministered to over the years. Robbie Buller, one of the original Jubilee Partners, pointed to a plain grave with a simple marker. “That grave is William “Pop” Campbell,” Robbie said, “He was the very first to be buried here in 1983.”

William “Pop” Campbell had a complicated moral picture. In 1975, Pop killed a smalltown barber near Athens, Georgia in a robbery gone wrong. At the time, Pop insisted that he was innocent. He was just getting his haircut when another man Henry Drake entered the shop and began to beat the barber and demand his money. Pop claimed that he tried his best to intercede, but Drake overpowered him. The jury didn’t buy it. Pop was convicted of murder and landed on death row. Henry Drake, the man Pop accused of the killing, was also convicted. Both men awaited execution by the state of Georgia.

The second thief on Golgotha also had a complicated moral picture. Luke doesn’t tell us much about him, but the teachings of the early church do. According to John Chrysostum, the 4th century Archbishop of Constantinople, the thief’s name was Dismas, a desert bandit, who robbed and killed pilgrims as they traveled to Jerusalem for the Passover. A century later, Pope Gregory the Great taught that Dismas was also a fratricide, guilty of murdering his own brother. On Golgotha, Dismas faced the Roman consequences of his life of thievery and murder: death on a cross.

Dismas and his fellow bandit weren’t the only ones dying on Golgotha that day. Throughout Lent, we have been following Jesus through his final week in Jerusalem. At the start of Lent, when I preached on the Palm Sunday story, I pointed to two radically different kingdoms that would clash in that holy week as the Roman Empire would collide with the Kingdom of God.

Last Sunday, we considered Jesus’ final supper with his friends and the foot-washing lesson he taught them about the prime importance of love and humble service. This Sunday, we encounter Jesus less than twenty-four hours after his object lesson and new commandment that we love one another as he loved us. In those bleak and bitter hours, Jesus was betrayed by Judas, abandoned by his closest disciples, and denied by Peter. The Temple court found him guilty of blasphemy. Pilate condemned him to death on trumped up charges of sedition. Now, Jesus was dying on a cross. Crucifixion was a state-sponsored weapon of terror, a public execution that inflicted excruciating pain in a slow, humiliating death. Above his head hung Jesus’ death sentence in Greek, Hebrew, and Latin, “King of the Jews.”

William “Pop” Campbell learned a lesson in Jesus’ Kingdom from Rev. Murphy Davis. She befriended Pop in her ministry to inmates on death row. She visited him weekly, listening to him and praying with him. In 1981, Pop confessed to Murphy that he lied when he implicated Henry Drake in the crime for which he had been sentenced to death. Pop had invented the story, hoping to muddy the waters, pass the blame, and avoid the death penalty. “What I said were lies,” Pop confessed, “I was the one to kill Mr. Eberhart. Henry wasn’t even there.” When Pop’s lawyer learned of his confession, he was irate. He insisted that Pop renounce his admission of guilt, arguing that it scuttled their chances of a commutation and was a virtual guarantee of death. “I want to do the right thing,” Pops argued back. “What I did was wrong.”

Dismas knew the innocence of Jesus. Dismas also knew his own guilt, as with the hindsight of fast-approaching death he looked back at his long history of thievery and brutality. Jesus didn’t deserve to die, but Dismas did. In the eyes of Rome and in his own eyes, his life of selfish ambition and casual cruelty had landed him on a cross. When the other thief dying on Golgotha began to deride Jesus, Dismas knew it was wrong, just as surely as Pop Campbell knew it was wrong to blame Henry Drake. “We have been condemned justly,” Dismas called out to his criminal colleague, “We are getting what we deserve for our deeds.”

We aren’t Pop Campbell or Dismas, but we know how it feels to have a complicated moral picture. We know the wrong that we have done: the beloved ones that we have failed, the friends we have betrayed, the ethical corners that we have cut, the selfish ambition that we have pursued at another’s expense. We know the good that we have left undone: the times we have refused to help, the occasions when we have turned a blind eye to another’s malfeasance, the good we will not do because the personal cost is just to high, the dirty little secrets that we keep rather than admit our failure. We long to be reconciled with God and with those whom we have hurt. Like Pop and Dismas, we need to believe that there is hope for us—that somehow, despite our wrongs, we can be loved, accepted, forgiven, offered a second chance (or a third or a fourth).

On that lonely hilltop outside Jerusalem, hanging between two criminals, Jesus taught us one last lesson about his Kingdom, even as he was dying at the hands of the empire. Half prayer, half gallows plea, Dismas turned to the Lord and asked “Jesus, remember me, when you come into your kingdom.” In response, Jesus assured him, “Truly, I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” Dismas didn’t have to recite the long laundry list of his sins. He didn’t need to undertake the journey of a hundred miles on his knees as an act of penance. He didn’t have to recite the Apostles’ Creed. In Jesus’ Kingdom, Dismas was known in all his frailty and loved in his entirety. In Jesus’ Kingdom there is room for Dismas and Pop Cambell. In Jesus’ Kingdom there is room for us. We are known and we are loved. In Jesus’ Kingdom, there is mercy and grace for all who ask.

Pop Campbell died of natural causes in 1983 while awaiting execution. In Georgia, prisoners whose families are too poor to afford funerals and prisoners who do not have kin or friends to receive their bodies are buried on prison grounds with only their state-assigned inmate number to mark their graves. When Robbie Buller of the Jubilee Community heard of what would be done with Pop’s body, he had a better idea. Jubilee had 260 acres of land. Why not welcome Pop to the community? Plans were quickly drawn up, local zoning authorities approved, and Pop came home to a place and a people whom he had not known during his lifetime.

In speaking about the cemetery, Robbie Buller says, “It’s a final hospitality for people who have had trouble finding acceptance anyplace else.” Since Pop’s burial, the graveyard at Jubilee has welcomed five more death row inmates, as well as seven homeless people, fourteen refugees, and the Rev. Murphy Davis, who so kindly visited Pop Campbell on death row all those years ago. Immediately after someone is buried in the Jubilee cemetery, a new grave is hand dug by volunteers. That’s hard work in the red and rocky Georgia clay. A piece of sheet metal roofing and a blue tarp are placed over the hole. A mound of red dirt waits next to the grave, ready to be filled back in. There is always room for more in the Jubilee burying ground. There is always room for more in the Kingdom of mercy and grace.

Resources

Matt Skinner. “Walking the Palm Sunday Path: A Lenten Sermon Series for 2026” in Preaching Series, January 21, 2026. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching-series/walking-the-palm-sunday-path-in-lent-a-sermon-series-for-2026

Melva Sampson. “Commentary on Luke 23:39-43” in Preaching Series, Jan. 22, 2026. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching-series/sermon-series-jesus-promises-paradise-to-a-victim-of-crucifixion

Craig T. Kocher. “Theological Commentary on Luke 23:32-43” in Feasting on the Gospels, Luke, vol. 2. Westminster John Knox Press, 2014.

Lincoln Galloway. “Homiletical Commentary on Luke 23:32-43” in Feasting on the Gospels, Luke, vol. 2. Westminster John Knox Press, 2014.

Josina Guess. “Folks Ought to Have a Resting Place” in Sojourners, Nov. 2025.

Barry Siegel. “Parole Board Frees Man Courts Wouldn’t” in The LA Times, Dec. 23, 1988. Accessed online at https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1988-12-23-mn-530-story.html

Luke 23:39-43

39 One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying, “Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!” 40 But the other rebuked him, saying, “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? 41 And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong.” 42 Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come in your kingdom.” 43 He replied, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.”

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