A king wanted to settle his accounts
with his servants and began with a debtor (ὀφειλέτης) who owed him a huge
amount (vv. 23–43). When the man could not repay the loan, the king determined
to sell his wife and children and all his possessions to raise the sum (vv.
25). The man begged for mercy, and the king, moved, forgave the debt (τὸ
δάνειον ἀφῆκεν ἀυτῷ, v. 27). The servant whose debt was remitted then promptly
found a fellow servant who owed him a paltry sum, demanded it of him, and would
not listen to his pleas for mercy, but threatened instead to have him thrown
into prison until he should pay (vv. 29–30). The king, learning of this, grew
angry and handed the first slave over to the torturers “until he should pay
back all he owed” (οὗ ἀποδῷ πᾶν τὸ ὀφειλόμενον, v. 34). The lesson is severe:
“Thus will my Heavenly Father do to you, unless each one forgives (ἀφῆτε) his
brother from your hearts [sic]” (v. 35). As commentators see, the connection
with the “debts” in the fifth petition of the Our Father is unmistakable.
Another interesting theme also vividly
emerges in this parable, however: the threat of debtor’s prison (Matt
18:25, 30, 34). The collapse of this institution in the nineteenth century has
naturally distanced us from the assumptions associated with the place. It is
essential to note two things, however. First, no distinction was made between
malfeasance and misfortune. Defaulting on a loan was indiscriminately viewed
under the rubric of criminality, as if insolvency itself were a sin. The idea
of being locked away thus carried a strong connotation of guilt – reinforcing
the sin as debt idea. Second and more importantly, debtor’s prison was
envisioned as a temporary measure. “Incarceration was intended to compel
debtors to produce any hidden funds they might have, and, should that fail, to
incite friends or family to pay the ransom – that is, to pay the debt.” The
image thus evoked “temporary holding cells” where debtors were detained until
the delinquent funds could be gathered. Debtors’ prison was thus envisioned as
a purgative instrument of moral reform, a place where one could “forgive the
sin of unpaid debt, so long as the initiate was willing to undergo a period of
punishment and repentance.”
So understood, debt-slavery and debt-prison
correspond rather closely. The prison image, nevertheless, evokes a distinct
connotation of eschatological judgment, not as evident in the slavery
motif (cf. 1 Pet 3:19; Jude 6; 1 Enoch 10:4–6, 12–14; 13:1; 14:5;
18:14–16; 21:6, 10). It is thus fitting when Eubank
suggests that the institution of debt-prison maps suggestively onto the proto-purgatorial
vision of certain Jewish texts (t. San. 13:3; m. ‘Ed. 2:10; cf. 2
Macc 12; Test. Ab.) in which “Gehenna was sometimes thought of as a temporary
place of chastisement.” Arguably, then, the expectation implicit in Matthew’s
parable is that, despite the huge sum, the debtor is not destined for
never-ending punishment, but might somehow manage to pay back πᾶν τὸ ὀφειλόμενον
and be freed from his incarceration. This prospect of release is hinted at
again in the text of Matt 5:21–26 – another evocation of the debtor’s prison.
Make friends quickly with your accuser, while you are with him
along the way, lest your accuser hand you over to the judge, and he judge to
the bailiff and you be thrown into prison. Amen, I say to you, you will not
come out from there until you have paid the last penny (ἕως ἂν ἀποδῷς τὸν ἔσχατον
κοδράντην, Matt 5:25–26).
In context, punishment in Gehenna is in view (Matt 5:22), and the
“unresolved debts (i.e. sins) against another person are in fact sins against
God, who will certainly collect what is his due.” In the final phrase, however,
Eubank detects the possibility of paying one’s debts from the eschatological place
of punishment. He does not wish to suggest “a well-developed understanding of
purgatory, but only that [Matt] 5:25–26 and 18:23–35 may assume that it is
possible to pays one’s debts after death.” If he is right, Matthew may well
have some manner of post-mortem ransom in mind – perhaps produced by the
charity of one’s friends (the normal means of ransom for those held in debtor’s
prison).
Whatever Matthew’s view of post-mortem redemption, the
thought of canceling sin’s debt by charity is very important. A coordinate idea
is evident here, as Anderson shows: “Almost as soon as the idea of sin as a
debt appears on the scene, so does its financial counterpart, credit” (cf. Dan
4:24 MT). The logic is simple: as sins racks up debt, so good deeds accumulate
credit. Accordingly, Matthew, like other Second Temple literature (e.g. Tob
4:5–11; Sir 29:9–13; Ps Sol. 9:5; 2 Baruch 14:12–13; 24:1–2) complements the
debt metaphor with an interest in “heavenly treasure” (e.g. Matt 5:3–6:24;
10:1–42; 16:13–28; 19:16–20; 25:14–46). While almsgiving is the classic good deed
by which one gains credit against the day of judgment (cf. Matt 19:16–20;
25:14–46), in both Matt 18:23–35 and 5:21–26 it is acts of forgiveness that
earn one favor in heaven. This reciprocity ethic and mode of piety, though less
celebrated than material charity, has a clear pedigree in Jewish thought: “Forgive
(ἄφες) your neighbor the wrong he has done, and when you pray your sins
will be absolved (λυθήσονται)” (Sir 28:2). (Anthony Giambrone, Sacramental
Charity, Creditor Christology, and the Economy of Salvation in Luke's Gospel
[Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 2. Reihe 439; Tübingen:
Mohr Siebeck, 2017], 83-85)
