"Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing." Luke 23:34
Even though some ancient authorities don't include this verse in Luke's Gospel, it marks the starting place for those who have traditionally found meaning in reflecting on these "Seven Last Words from the Cross", a gathering of the sayings attributed to Jesus during his crucifixion from the gospels of Luke (3), John (3) and Matthew (1).
If any of the gospel writers would offer this sentiment from the cross, this amazing act of forgiveness spoken from the lips of Jesus, it would be Luke. Luke trumpets the downtrodden, the broken, the outcasts and disenfranchised. Luke sees Jesus as one who stands firm against long-held religious and cultural norms. He reaches out to the unclean, welcoming those who, social and religious practices demanded, were to be kept at a safe, respectable and un-defiling distance.
And he forgives those who have no business being forgiven.
We might ask the question, "On who's behalf is Jesus seeking forgiveness from the Father?"
- Is it Judas who betrayed him?
- Is it Peter who denied him?
- Is it the council that condemned him?
- The men who blindfolded him, mocked him and beat him?
- Is it those who accused him falsely?
- Is it the crowd who called for Barabbas' release, shouting for Jesus' crucifixion?
- Is it Pilate, who saw no offense in Jesus but gave into the crowd's demands?
- Could it have been Herod and his soldiers who mocked Jesus and treated him with contempt?
- Is it those who cast lots for his clothing?
- Or the people who stood by watching.
- The leaders who scoffed at him?
- The soldiers that mocked him?
- All of the above?
In this extravagant display of forgiveness from Jesus' breaking, yet unbreakable heart - this picture of wounded, yet unconditional love - maybe there really isn't any need to look for boundaries. Perhaps there aren't enough bullet points to list everyone that could be included in this.
We know where this kind of love begins. It originates in the heart of God. We have no way of imagining how far this kind of love is capable of stretching.
The best visual expression we have comes in the shape of a cross.
And, quite frankly, that's the best I can do in trying to understand this moment, this moment of forgiveness that defies logic, societal norms, and even our modern day religious expectations. The best I can do is to point to the cross, to consider what it represents and the message it still speaks.
And it does still speak.
Sometimes its a whisper.
Sometimes its a shout!
The 2006 shooting deaths of 5 little girls in the Nickel Mines Amish School in Lancaster Pennsylvania horrified us all. The response of the Amish people mystified us. They forgave. They forgave the shooter, they reached out to his family, they comforted his wife. They responded to unspeakable violence, with unshakable faith. In their deep, profound and unspeakable suffering, they were unconditional love incarnate.
Members of the Mother Emmanuel AME Church in Charleston South Carolina responded to the 2015 shooting deaths of nine people by forgiving the shooter. Family members, even as they gave eloquent voice to their deep personal grief at the bond hearing of the person responsible, still somehow found a way to speak words of forgiveness.
How could such cruelty be forgiven? How could love be unconditional in the face of such abominable and inexcusable atrocities?
How can someone find forgiveness who has no business being forgiven?
I don't know. I honestly don't know.
The best I can do, is point to the cross.
Of course, these are extreme examples. Thankfully for most of us, throughout the course of our lives we will be challenged with much less dramatic and painful opportunities to offer forgiveness for the wounds and wrongs received at the hands of others.
And yet, we all know how hard it can be sometimes. A wounded heart can quickly become a hardened heart. And even if we don't actively seek revenge, at least some degree of restitution often seems to be in order. It just seems natural to require some degree of penance, to receive some measure of satisfaction from the offending party, to repay us for the wrong we have incurred.
The truth of the matter is that wounds hurt, and sometimes it takes a long time for the hurting to stop and for the wounds to heal. And we can replay the wrongs we've incurred over and over again, countless times in our minds. And wounds can run the gamut, from an untended slight to a calculated act of cruelty to a trust-destroying moment of betrayal.
How can we forgive someone who has no business being forgiven?
I don't know. I honestly don't know.
The best I can do, is point to the cross.
It's sounds a bit preachy to say "Jesus forgave us, so you should forgive others". But, of course, Jesus does teach that - "forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us". (Luke 11:4). (Jesus is less concerned about sounding preachy than I am!)
But our relationship to Christ and the authenticity of our Christian witness does really rest at the heart of our attitude and practice regarding forgiveness.
Maybe it would help if we considered the power that forgiveness has to shape us more fully into a person who, as the old saying goes, "doesn't just talk the talk, but who walks the walk". Perhaps we would do well to reflect on how the practice of forgiving can serve to make us a little more like Jesus, enabling us to grow in Christ-likeness and Christian maturity.
And of course you're absolutely correct if you're thinking that the person who has wronged you doesn't deserve forgiving. You'll get no arguments from me on that one!
And so, if you're wanting me to explain to you how you can forgive someone who has absolutely no business being forgiven, I'm afraid I don't know. I honestly don't know.
The best I can do, is point to the cross.
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