There is one school which none of us ever leaves.
We may grow old. We may finish our studies. We may spend a lifetime working and eventually retire.
But before God, we remain His children.
And we remain in the school of Christ.
Today, on Education Sunday, we thank God for those who help our children grow.
For parents getting them out of bed in the morning, finding the missing shoe, checking the homework and trying to remember which day the PE kit is needed.
For teachers who give patience, encouragement and time, often far beyond what anyone sees.
For grandparents, catechists and all those quiet people who help a child discover that they are loved, that truth matters, and that their life has a purpose.
There is something very beautiful in that work.
Because education is never only about filling a mind with facts.
It is about helping a person become who God created them to be.
And today Christ speaks to us about one of the hardest parts of that growth: mercy.
Peter comes to Jesus and asks: “Lord, how often must I forgive my brother?”
Seven times?
Peter thinks seven is generous.
Perhaps we would too.
We remember injuries very well.
A kind word said ten years ago may be forgotten.
But the cutting word, the insult, the betrayal — that can remain wonderfully fresh.
We keep accounts.
But Jesus does not give Peter permission to keep a longer list.
He tells him to stop counting.
Then He tells the story of a servant who owes his king a debt so great that he could never repay it.
The servant falls on his knees.
“Give me time.”
But time will not solve the problem.
He cannot pay.
And the king does something astonishing.
He forgives everything.
The man walks into the room a debtor and walks out free.
That is where we must recognise ourselves.
Because before God, every one of us needs mercy.
We were created for friendship with God. Through original sin, humanity lost that original holiness. We inherit a wounded human nature.
And then we add our own sins.
The times when we knew what God asked and chose something else.
We cannot simply tidy all of that up ourselves.
We cannot forgive our own sins.
We need a Saviour. And we have one. Jesus Christ.
He did not remain far away and tell us to try harder.
He came among us. He took our nature.
He carried our sins to the Cross.
He died for us. He rose again.
In Baptism, original sin is washed away and we receive sanctifying grace, a share in God’s own life. We become His children.
And when we sin after Baptism, Christ does not close the door.
He gives us Confession.
The person who entered burdened can leave reconciled to God.
That is the mercy we have received.
And now the Gospel asks: What does that mercy do to us?
Because the servant in the parable goes out and meets another man who owes him much less.
And the second man says almost exactly what he himself had said:
“Give me time.”
Surely he should recognise those words.
Only moments earlier, he was the one on his knees.
But he refuses mercy.
That is the tragedy.
He received forgiveness, but it did not reach his heart.
And this is where the Gospel becomes uncomfortable.
We can ask God to forgive us while keeping somebody else permanently imprisoned in our memory.
We can want a new beginning for ourselves and deny one to another person.
We can go to Confession, receive mercy, and then go home and open the old account book again.
Sirach says today: “Remember your end, and cease from enmity.”
Remember your end. One day I shall die. One day you will die.
One day the person who hurt us will die. And all of us will stand before God.
That does not mean serious wrongs do not matter. They do.
Forgiveness does not mean calling evil good.
It does not mean returning to a dangerous situation.
It does not mean that pain disappears overnight.
But it does mean refusing to let hatred become master of the heart.
Nursing resentment is rather like drinking poison and hoping the other person becomes ill.
We replay the argument.
We imagine what we should have said.
We carry the person around in our mind while they may be miles away having a perfectly pleasant day.
Christ offers us freedom from that.
Sometimes forgiveness begins very simply: “Lord, I still hurt. I do not want revenge. Help me to desire this person’s conversion. Help me to desire their salvation. Help me to leave them in Your hands.”
That prayer may not change everything immediately.
But it opens the door to grace.
Saint Paul tells us: “Whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s.”
There is our security.
We belong to Christ.
Our joys belong to Him.
Our wounds belong to Him.
Our past belongs to Him.
Our future belongs to Him.
And this is what makes Education Sunday such a hopeful day.
We are not simply thanking people for helping children pass exams.
We are thanking them for helping shape lives.
A good teacher may say one encouraging word that a child remembers for years.
A parent may teach more by saying, “I was wrong, please forgive me,” than by giving a long speech.
A grandparent may hand on the faith simply by praying with a child and making it seem the most natural thing in the world to speak to God.
And perhaps much of that work seems small at the time.
A lift to school.
A packed lunch.
A difficult conversation.
A prayer before bed.
Sitting through homework that neither adult nor child particularly wants to be doing.
But love is often built out of small things.
And God can use them.
Of course we want our children to do well.
We want them to discover their gifts.
We want them to have opportunities we perhaps never had ourselves.
But we also want something even greater for them.
We want them to know that they are loved by God.
We want them to know where to turn when they fail.
We want them to know that sin is real, but mercy is greater.
We want them to know the Mass, Confession, prayer, the Scriptures and the life of the Church.
Above all, we want them to know Jesus Christ.
Because one day school finishes.
The certificates gather dust.
The career ends.
The money is left behind.
And every one of us stands before God.
An education which leaves eternity out has left out the purpose of our existence.
Catholic education is not simply about success.
It is about helping a person become holy.
Helping them know Christ.
Helping them live in His grace.
Helping them become the sort of person who can receive mercy and show mercy.
So today we thank God warmly for all those who share in that work.
And we pray for our children.
Not simply that they will do well.
But that they will know Christ, love Him, remain close to Him, and one day see Him face to face.
That is the greatest thing we could ever want for them.
And, in the end, it is the greatest thing we could ever want for ourselves.
St. Mary's, St. John Bosco and St. Edward's 