by David Baer | published: Friday, March 7, 2014, 7:09 PM
As I read and listen to economists, increasingly I’m coming to appreciate the insights they have into what motivates people to behave in certain ways. There’s this story about a day-care center, for example, that had trouble getting parents to pick up their kids on time. They started fining parents who showed up late, but they had to adjust their approach when they found that the fines actually increased the number of late pickups. What seems to have happened is that when the parents saw the new fee, they interpreted it as a service that they were free to pay for if they chose.
Sometimes exacting costs or paying out rewards doesn’t motivate people to behave in the desired way. There are similar findings, for example, when it comes to paying children to attend school, or to do chores. Appealing to someone’s self-interest sometimes works, but sometimes their calculations run a little differently than you thought. Perhaps the day-care center would have seen a different result if, instead of charging a fine, the owners had simply explained to the parents the impact that their lateness had on the children and the staff. Sometimes examining our behavior in the light of our relationship to others makes all the difference.
As we approach the Lenten season, I’ve started to think about forgiveness. I’ll be leading a study on forgiveness on Wednesdays, starting on March 12, following our Lenten Soup Suppers. As we look forward to Easter, we remember God’s great act of forgiveness accomplished in Jesus’ taking his cross, dying for us, and rising again. It’s appropriate to reflect on what we’ve received, and how it ought to change us.
I have come across one definition of forgiveness that is attributed to Oprah Winfrey, which holds that forgiveness is “letting go so that the past does not hold you prisoner.” There are other similar ways of talking about forgiveness that appeal to our self-interest: holding a grudge or continuing to nurse ill will for some wrong we’ve endured is damaging, and it would be better for us if we could let it go so that we can heal. But this way of framing forgiveness leaves open the possibility that I may not want to move on or heal. Perhaps I want to hold onto my fantasies of revenge or vindication, even if it damages my well being. In this way of thinking about forgiveness, the choice is up to me—I can choose forgiveness or refuse it, according to the way I interpret my own interests. I have a right to pay the cost of not forgiving.
But Jesus does not talk about forgiveness in this way. He tells a story about a servant who was forgiven an impossibly massive debt to his master (see Matthew 18:21-35). No sooner has his debt been forgiven than he accosts one of his fellow servants who owes him a modest sum, saying, “Pay what you owe!” and having him thrown into prison. The master gets wind of his behavior and not only has the original debt reinstated, but has this ungrateful servant tortured until he can pay it off.
We have received an impossibly great gift of forgiveness from God. This gift is so generous, Jesus tells us, it would be the height of wickedness and ingratitude for anyone who receives it to withhold forgiveness from another person. Forgiving or not forgiving isn’t a choice that we properly make by looking only at our self-interest, but rather in the light of where we stand with respect to a merciful, generous, forgiving God. The question is not whether I am willing to pay a personal cost to spite someone else, but whether my choice honors or dishonors God’s love and generosity to me.