It is clear in today’s first reading (2 Corinthians 11:1-11) that Paul is feeling misunderstood in his mission of preaching the good news, frustrated in his attempts to invite us into a personal relationship with Christ, and through Christ, to God. It is no wonder he is defensive, even sarcastic.
Take a moment to think about something you are passionate about. It may be your life’s work or calling. It may be your desire to raise your kids with solid values; or to “make a difference” in the culture of your workplace; or to recognize and speak out against social injustice. When our efforts are misunderstood, when we are unappreciated, when we are the target of complaints and accusations or face other roadblocks in our attempts to be true to our values, principles, and commitments, we get defensive. We try harder to prove that our mission should be everyone’s mission. Isn’t that what Paul is doing today?
We are a sinful people, easily duped by the enemy, distracted by the false lights that move our lesser selves. There are so many ways that we can transgress on our path to the Lord, countless side trips that can divert us from our true calling, to be with God. I think most of us realize that we are sinful, most understand that we personally are not immune from stumbling. That is why when we stop to reflect on the love of God, and the sacrifice of Jesus, we are both humbled and chastened, and with the psalmist we can give thanks for the greatness of the Lord.
Yet I am always mystified that, despite this knowledge, so many people, privately and publicly, act as though they have not sinned. They take on the false sense of righteousness that comes with being more closed than open to the mystery of God’s love. They see absolutes where God sees shades of gray. They profess to know the answers without knowing the questions or the motives. In a search for the certainty that only God can possess, they convert wrenching human problems into rigid dogma.
I have been most fortunate in my life. I have received the minor slights that come with living in today’s world and, even though I try to forgive, I find myself at times feeling angry or frustrated by what happened and what might have been. I have not suffered any serious injuries at the hands of others. Yes, I was stabbed while breaking up a robbery in the New Cathedral in St. Louis, but I have never been mugged. I have never been robbed, attacked, or otherwise injured. I have never been raped or murdered, nor has anyone close to me been subjected to such harm. So I cannot know how such a victim would feel, how they would find the courage and the faith to forgive, to let go of the resentment and pain, in those circumstances. I don’t know how I would feel when called by God to forgive and not to seek vengeance and retribution. It is difficult to set aside the rule in Exodus of “an eye for an eye” and to embrace Jesus’ call that we forgive those who wrong us, seventy times seven times! And even more difficult than forgiving another is to forgive ourselves, to recognize that we are sinful and not perfect, and so will make mistakes, over and over again, for as long as we live.
Jesus offers another way in today’s gospel reading (Matthew 6:7-15), in the words of the Lord’s Prayer. The year is not quite half over, and this is the second time the Church has given us the Lord’s Prayer as our Gospel. Today’s reading is not just an anecdote about how a familiar prayer originated. Clearly its message is something that the Church wants us to hear and be formed by. That having been said, it is hard for us to get past the fact that most of us learned the prayer as a child, when the meaning of its words could not be fully grasped. Now, when we hear, “Our Father, who . . .” we immediately slip into autopilot, mouthing the familiar words, but with our minds too often wandering elsewhere.
Despite the words we are saying, in our hearts we frequently are not really asking God to do anything. Matthew introduces the Lord’s Prayer by quoting Jesus on what not to ask for – food, clothing, shelter. God knows we need those things and has provided a world that, if we tend it right and help one another, meets those needs. No, Jesus says to ask God to do what only God can do – bring about God’s kingdom – now, in our world – a kingdom characterized by forgiveness.
Jesus today tells us that we should forgive others for their shortcomings just like we are asking God to forgive us. Jesus tells us to let go, to release feelings of resentment, to calm the anger and to look past the offense. This is tough stuff, to forgive others. It is easy for us to mouth the words, but can we heal the hurts and forget the pain that others have caused us? Can we, as does God, wipe the slate clean? Can we leave to God the things that are God’s – judgment and punishment, vengeance and retribution – and keep to ourselves what Jesus calls us to do – to love without question?
A concrete example may help make these generalities clearer. Corrie ten Boom, an evangelical theologian, had the horrible experience in World War II of watching her sister beaten to death by a German guard in a concentration camp. She, herself, escaped and returned a few years later to give a talk in Germany. A man came up to thank her for her presentation and extended his hand to congratulate her. As she looked into his face, to her horror, she recognized him as the one-time German soldier who had savagely killed her sister. She froze and could not bring herself to bring her hand up to shake his. As she tells the story, she cried out silently: “Jesus, help me!” Slowly her hand came up and clasped his. He, seeing the turmoil in her face, recognized immediately what was going on. He fell to his knees, weeping, and begged her forgiveness – which she already had given him in her accepting his hand. She had been enabled to give him not only her own forgiveness, but God’s as well.
God’s forgiveness is extended through us. It is just that simple. That day Corrie ten Boom learned that lesson.
May God Bless You and Grant You His Peace!