Father, Forgive Them
Sermon
The Seven Last Words Of Jesus Christ
Messages for Good Friday
It was May 13, 1981. Even though accustomed to tragedy and hardened to bloodshed, the world was shocked by what it saw on its television screens and newspapers. There he was, bedecked in his white robes, riding in his white jeep in St. Peter's Square, waving to the admiring crowds, when suddenly he fell backwards, grimacing in acute pain from an assassin's bullet.
In an instant, this much beloved peacemaker of the world, so vigorous, so energetic, so persistent in his efforts of love and reconciliation -- in an instant Pope John Paul II's life hung in the balance as he was rushed to the hospital.
Nearly two years later at Christmas of 1983, the world was startled again, not by a peacemaking pope grimacing in pain from the assassin's bullet, but by, of all things, a peacemaking pope making peace with his would-be assassin. The media once again flashed the picture around the world. There he was, Pope John Paul II, in the prison cell in Rome, talking to Ali Agca, forgiving him of the attempt on his life.
The zealous fanaticism was gone from the assassin's eyes as the Pope held the very hand that held the gun which shot him. Tender and loving words were exchanged. Ali Agca appeared to kiss the Pope's ring and bow in a Muslim gesture of respect. Such was the power of forgiveness.
Flash back now about nineteen centuries to another white-robed peacemaker much beloved by many, feared by others. He was not assassinated by a fanatic. Instead, he was executed by the establishment because they feared he was a fanatic, a troublemaker, a disturber of the peace.
It was better that one man perish than a whole nation be lost in revolution and counter-revolution, they said. And so they crucified him among the malefactors. But in his dying breath he was able to utter the almost impossible words, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."
In our cynical mood, we are not too sure we really believe Jesus or his latter day servant, Pope John Paul. Did not, we ask, most assassins and executioners know exactly what they were doing? Did not John Wilkes Booth know what he was doing when he aimed the gun at Abraham Lincoln? Did not Lee Harvey Oswald know what he was doing when he murdered John Kennedy, or Sirhan Sirhan when he shot Robert Kennedy, or James Earl Ray when he took aim at Martin Luther King, Jr., or Arthur Bremer when he shot George Wallace, or John Hinckley when he put a bullet in President Reagan?
Most knew exactly what they were doing. In the name of a larger cause, in the authority of an alien power, in the fanatic vision of an altered world, they perpetrated their deeds of violence. But in the larger sense, they were desperate men of a desperate world, attempting to glorify self or a cause, to bring in a paradise of their own dreaming and their own devising.
It was the genius of Jesus to see the futility of those efforts for himself and for all men. Even his glorious vision and dream for a restored Davidic Kingdom or the arrival of the Messianic Age was not enough to induce him to lead yet another war to regain a lost paradise. "Father, forgive them, for they really do not know the vanity of what they do."
II.
However, on this tragic day, let us not be sentimental. Forgiveness does not mean an absence of judgment or justice. Jesus never said, "It's okay, go right ahead and pound in the nails. I forgive you." He never suggested they were right. The contrary. Like all acts of forgiveness, his implied judgment of the wrong. When Pope John Paul went to Rebibbia Prison to forgive, he did not suggest release of the prisoner. Judgment, justice, and punishment remained.
When Jesus forgave, he did not call the wrong right. Instead he forgave the wrong in order to make things right with the wrongdoer. Theologian Paul Tillich reminds us that modern psychological insight and understanding do not replace judgment, nor should they undercut our courage to call wrong wrong (The New Being, p. 5).
Catholic theologian Robert Friday says, "Forgiveness doesn't mean that you become some sort of wimp and forgive without some kind of demand. We are responsible for what we have done" (Time, 1-9-84; p. 29). To accept the forgiveness is also to accept the judgment. It is to acknowledge guilt. As theologian Daniel Day Williams says, "Where there is no guilt, forgiveness is meaningless" (The Minister And The Care of Souls, p. 78).
Therefore, on this tragic day of execution of the Prince of Peace, it is fruitless to avoid blame and guilt by placing the blame on first century Jews and Romans. The judgment comes upon all of us in our grand schemes for a personal paradise to the exclusion of the brother in need. The judgment comes upon all of us in our conceit and arrogance and pride which arise out of our deep inward dread of insignificance and mortality. The judgment rests upon all who attempt to bring in the Kingdom of God by ungodly methods. And it is in the awakening of guilt, in the acceptance of responsibility for evil, in the acknowledgement of our deceit and mean-spiritedness that we are forgiven. Father, forgive them even more because they know now what they have done.
III.
Let us draw closer still. Let us come away from nations and peoples, from dread personal enemies, into our very homes and families and marriages. There is a sense today in which a man's enemies are those of his very household: female against male, child against parents, husband against wife. Some families are little more than polite armed camps where the grievances and grudges of years are hurled like stones at the slightest provocation. We blame, accuse, threaten, cajole, and take our revenge. Children blame parents for an imperfect childhood. Parents blame children for a stressful life. Wives blame husbands for insensitivity and husbands blame wives for exploitation. Is this not the day to plead with our loving Creator, "Father, forgive us, for we both do and do not know what we do. We are caught in the dreadful circle of an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth"?
If, on this day, we can accept the judgment upon ourselves and others, we will be released from bondage to the hatreds of the past. We will be liberated from needing our enemy to establish our identity. We will be freed up from control by our enemy and the endless cycle of revenge upon revenge, reprisal upon reprisal, death upon death.
Thus this black Friday is Good Friday because God himself has judged and forgiven, not that the world should be condemned, but that it should be saved and made whole. God accepts us, loves us, forgives us, and asks us to do that with each other and thus release the power of change in the world. And if, on this day, we can do no other, perhaps we can at least do it in our families. "Father, forgive them and us, both when we do and do not know what we do." Amen.
In an instant, this much beloved peacemaker of the world, so vigorous, so energetic, so persistent in his efforts of love and reconciliation -- in an instant Pope John Paul II's life hung in the balance as he was rushed to the hospital.
Nearly two years later at Christmas of 1983, the world was startled again, not by a peacemaking pope grimacing in pain from the assassin's bullet, but by, of all things, a peacemaking pope making peace with his would-be assassin. The media once again flashed the picture around the world. There he was, Pope John Paul II, in the prison cell in Rome, talking to Ali Agca, forgiving him of the attempt on his life.
The zealous fanaticism was gone from the assassin's eyes as the Pope held the very hand that held the gun which shot him. Tender and loving words were exchanged. Ali Agca appeared to kiss the Pope's ring and bow in a Muslim gesture of respect. Such was the power of forgiveness.
Flash back now about nineteen centuries to another white-robed peacemaker much beloved by many, feared by others. He was not assassinated by a fanatic. Instead, he was executed by the establishment because they feared he was a fanatic, a troublemaker, a disturber of the peace.
It was better that one man perish than a whole nation be lost in revolution and counter-revolution, they said. And so they crucified him among the malefactors. But in his dying breath he was able to utter the almost impossible words, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."
In our cynical mood, we are not too sure we really believe Jesus or his latter day servant, Pope John Paul. Did not, we ask, most assassins and executioners know exactly what they were doing? Did not John Wilkes Booth know what he was doing when he aimed the gun at Abraham Lincoln? Did not Lee Harvey Oswald know what he was doing when he murdered John Kennedy, or Sirhan Sirhan when he shot Robert Kennedy, or James Earl Ray when he took aim at Martin Luther King, Jr., or Arthur Bremer when he shot George Wallace, or John Hinckley when he put a bullet in President Reagan?
Most knew exactly what they were doing. In the name of a larger cause, in the authority of an alien power, in the fanatic vision of an altered world, they perpetrated their deeds of violence. But in the larger sense, they were desperate men of a desperate world, attempting to glorify self or a cause, to bring in a paradise of their own dreaming and their own devising.
It was the genius of Jesus to see the futility of those efforts for himself and for all men. Even his glorious vision and dream for a restored Davidic Kingdom or the arrival of the Messianic Age was not enough to induce him to lead yet another war to regain a lost paradise. "Father, forgive them, for they really do not know the vanity of what they do."
II.
However, on this tragic day, let us not be sentimental. Forgiveness does not mean an absence of judgment or justice. Jesus never said, "It's okay, go right ahead and pound in the nails. I forgive you." He never suggested they were right. The contrary. Like all acts of forgiveness, his implied judgment of the wrong. When Pope John Paul went to Rebibbia Prison to forgive, he did not suggest release of the prisoner. Judgment, justice, and punishment remained.
When Jesus forgave, he did not call the wrong right. Instead he forgave the wrong in order to make things right with the wrongdoer. Theologian Paul Tillich reminds us that modern psychological insight and understanding do not replace judgment, nor should they undercut our courage to call wrong wrong (The New Being, p. 5).
Catholic theologian Robert Friday says, "Forgiveness doesn't mean that you become some sort of wimp and forgive without some kind of demand. We are responsible for what we have done" (Time, 1-9-84; p. 29). To accept the forgiveness is also to accept the judgment. It is to acknowledge guilt. As theologian Daniel Day Williams says, "Where there is no guilt, forgiveness is meaningless" (The Minister And The Care of Souls, p. 78).
Therefore, on this tragic day of execution of the Prince of Peace, it is fruitless to avoid blame and guilt by placing the blame on first century Jews and Romans. The judgment comes upon all of us in our grand schemes for a personal paradise to the exclusion of the brother in need. The judgment comes upon all of us in our conceit and arrogance and pride which arise out of our deep inward dread of insignificance and mortality. The judgment rests upon all who attempt to bring in the Kingdom of God by ungodly methods. And it is in the awakening of guilt, in the acceptance of responsibility for evil, in the acknowledgement of our deceit and mean-spiritedness that we are forgiven. Father, forgive them even more because they know now what they have done.
III.
Let us draw closer still. Let us come away from nations and peoples, from dread personal enemies, into our very homes and families and marriages. There is a sense today in which a man's enemies are those of his very household: female against male, child against parents, husband against wife. Some families are little more than polite armed camps where the grievances and grudges of years are hurled like stones at the slightest provocation. We blame, accuse, threaten, cajole, and take our revenge. Children blame parents for an imperfect childhood. Parents blame children for a stressful life. Wives blame husbands for insensitivity and husbands blame wives for exploitation. Is this not the day to plead with our loving Creator, "Father, forgive us, for we both do and do not know what we do. We are caught in the dreadful circle of an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth"?
If, on this day, we can accept the judgment upon ourselves and others, we will be released from bondage to the hatreds of the past. We will be liberated from needing our enemy to establish our identity. We will be freed up from control by our enemy and the endless cycle of revenge upon revenge, reprisal upon reprisal, death upon death.
Thus this black Friday is Good Friday because God himself has judged and forgiven, not that the world should be condemned, but that it should be saved and made whole. God accepts us, loves us, forgives us, and asks us to do that with each other and thus release the power of change in the world. And if, on this day, we can do no other, perhaps we can at least do it in our families. "Father, forgive them and us, both when we do and do not know what we do." Amen.
