Hearing The Word

A weekly newsletter delivering context and insight into the Sunday Gospels.

September 13, 2026

Twenty-Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Matthew 18:21-35

Peter approached Jesus and asked him,

“Lord, if my brother sins against me,

how often must I forgive?

As many as seven times?” 

Jesus answered, “I say to you, not seven times but seventy-seven times. 

That is why the kingdom of heaven may be likened to a king

who decided to settle accounts with his servants. 

When he began the accounting,

a debtor was brought before him who owed him a huge amount. 

Since he had no way of paying it back,

his master ordered him to be sold,

along with his wife, his children, and all his property,

in payment of the debt. 

At that, the servant fell down, did him homage, and said,

‘Be patient with me, and I will pay you back in full.’

Moved with compassion the master of that servant

let him go and forgave him the loan. 

When that servant had left, he found one of his fellow servants

who owed him a much smaller amount. 

He seized him and started to choke him, demanding,

‘Pay back what you owe.’

Falling to his knees, his fellow servant begged him,

‘Be patient with me, and I will pay you back.’

But he refused. 

Instead, he had the fellow servant put in prison

until he paid back the debt. 

Now when his fellow servants saw what had happened,

they were deeply disturbed, and went to their master

and reported the whole affair. 

His master summoned him and said to him, ‘You wicked servant! 

I forgave you your entire debt because you begged me to. 

Should you not have had pity on your fellow servant,

as I had pity on you?’

Then in anger his master handed him over to the torturers

until he should pay back the whole debt. 

So will my heavenly Father do to you,

unless each of you forgives your brother from your heart.”



Let it Go

~Rev. Thomas Dailey, O.S.F.S

John Cardinal Foley Chair of Homiletics and Social Communications, Saint Charles Borromeo Seminary + Ambler, PA

Today, Jesus the Teacher goes to extremes! With dramatic license, He narrates a story of settling accounts that includes actions shocking to modern sensibilities (e.g., selling or torturing people). But the parable’s exaggerations highlight an essential choice for His disciples.

The debt owed to the king is a “huge amount,” literally 10,000 talents, which would take more than 160 years to earn! The servant’s promise to pay it back “in full” is empty, indeed impossible.

How he got to this point is immaterial. His debt is crippling. His future is imperiled, as all that he has (his life, his family, his property) is subject to being sold off in punishment. But the king heard his plea with “compassion” and “forgave” him.

The fellow servant’s debt is “much smaller,” literally one hundred denarii, about three months’ wages. The promise to pay it back is plausible, but he is not given the chance. Despite the same plea, he is not forgiven, but “choked” and “put in prison” – personally and socially bound by the debt held over him.

In antiquity, according to Fr. Mark Hunt, the Greek verb ἀφίημι (aphíēmi) meant “to release” and also “to leave.” Forgiving is not about forgetting, but about freeing. It doesn’t ignore the past but leaves it there – permitting new movement to those presently crippled and bound from going forward.

Debts demanding restitution hold both parties back. Punishment with no pity impacts the broader community as well (as the other servants were “deeply disturbed”).

Forgiveness, flowing from “compassion,” sees another as a “fellow” person, even despite what he has done. Issuing “from the heart,” forgiveness is the choice to let go that frees debtor and creditor alike, allowing both to move forward with life.

“How often must I forgive?” Peter asked.

Pointing to the “king” who is His heavenly Father, Jesus’s response makes it clear ... always!

The Gift We Recieve is the Gift We Must Give

~Dennis Mueller

Saint Albert the Great Church + Huntingdon Valley, PA

This parable has always been one of my favorites. I love the extravagant image of the Father’s infinite mercy and the assurance that no sin too great for Him to forgive.  It gives me courage to come to Him in my failures to love and to seek forgiveness when I’ve wounded my relationship with Him and with others.  Do I deserve such magnanimity?  No.  None of us do, which is precisely why mercy is always a gift.

Honestly, it would be easier to stay right there, basking in the sure knowledge of God’s love for me, and quietly set aside the second half of the story.  But that is where the parable turns, and I am forced to face the mirror. 

How often am I like that unforgiving servant when it comes to extending mercy to others?  I hold fast to my wounds, allowing resentment, grudges, and a desire for vengeance masked as justice to take root in my heart. I cling to the small debts others owe me while forgetting the immeasurable debt God has already forgiven.  

Refusing mercy closes my heart to receiving it; not because God withdraws or withholds His mercy, but because I cannot receive what I refuse to give.  When I clutch my wounds tightly, my hands are too full to grasp the grace God is offering. 

The Catechism, echoing this parable, reminds me that mercy is the “proper attribute of God.” If I am made in His image, then mercy must become my attribute as well.  I must become a reservoir of grace in order to be a conduit for grace.  I must give what I have freely received.  Forgiveness and mercy are a participation in God’s own divine life; they are both a way of becoming more like Christ and an opportunity to be Christ-like. 

The sobering end of the parable reveals the simple truth: forgiveness is not optional. The servant being handed over to the torturers until he repays a debt that could never be repaid in a hundred lifetimes is a chilling reminder for anyone with ears to hear. So, let mercy received become mercy given, so that in that exchange our hearts may be healed and our souls saved.