Proper 6/Pentecost 4/Ordinary Time 11
Preaching
Lectionary Preaching Workbook
Series VII, Cycle C
Object:
Theme For The Day
God's forgiveness is a reality so wonderful, it can be hard to accept.
Old Testament
1 Kings 21:1-10 (11-14) 15-21a
Naboth's Vineyard
The outline of this story is familiar, for similar land-grabs have been taking place in Palestine for centuries, continuing even to our own day. In a sort of confiscation by eminent domain, King Ahab tells Naboth, a vineyard owner, that he wants to buy his vineyard. Naboth boldly refuses. He tells the king that this is his ancestral land. Ahab goes home and sulks. His wife, Jezebel, ridiculing him for his weakness, springs into action. She sends letters out bearing the king's seal, inciting some scoundrels to accuse Naboth of treasonous remarks. The people stone him to death, as a result. Ahab assumes ownership of Naboth's vineyard. God sends Elijah to Ahab, to confront the king with his errors. Elijah curses him with these words: "In the place where dogs licked up the blood of Naboth, dogs will also lick up your blood" (v. 19). Ahab evidently has a guilty conscience, for he responds to Elijah, "Have you found me, O my enemy?" (v. 20). Elijah vows to bring disaster on this evil king.
New Testament Lesson
Galatians 2:15-21
Crucified With Christ
There was a fault line in the first-century church -- the division between the Jewish Christian faction represented by Peter and James, and the Gentile Christian faction represented by Paul. In verses 11-14 that precede today's reading, Paul explains how he had once criticized Peter for backpedaling away from his initial openness to the Gentiles that he had developed after receiving his vision at Joppa (see Acts 10). After making such progress, Peter had subsequently allowed the Jewish Christian hard-liners to browbeat him into no longer eating with Gentiles. In today's passage, Paul outlines his reasons for advocating an inclusive faith that is equally open to Jews and Gentiles. "A person is justified," he declares, "not by the works of the law but through faith in Jesus Christ" (v. 16). Well, what about those believers who still fall into sin? That, says Paul, is no argument. Sin happens. In order to come to Christ, we must "die to the law" (v. 19). "I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me" (vv. 19-20). Episodes of human sinfulness "do not nullify the grace of God; for if justification comes through the law, then Christ died for nothing" (v. 21).
The Gospel
Luke 7:36--8:3
The Woman With The Alabaster Jar, And The Parable Of Two Debtors
(For a parallel passage, see John 12:1-8, a reading for the Fifth Sunday In Lent.) While Jesus is dining in the home of a Pharisee named Simon, an anonymous woman, "a sinner," comes into the room. She stands at the foot of the couch where Jesus is reclining, in Roman fashion. Weeping, she bathes his feet with her tears and wipes them with her hair. Kissing Jesus' feet, she begins anointing them with perfumed ointment. Discerning that Simon is beginning to doubt Jesus' integrity for allowing such an unseemly display to continue, Jesus tells a parable of two debtors. Each has had his debt forgiven: one for a trivial sum, the other for a large amount. Which one, Jesus asks Simon, will love his lender more? Simon agrees that it would be the one who had been forgiven for the greater debt. Jesus teaches that it is the same for the woman who is anointing his feet: She has been forgiven for many terrible sins. But as for people like Simon, "the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little" (v. 47). Jesus then publicly forgives the woman, which further stirs up the Pharisees, who are offended at his presumption in forgiving sins (v. 49). In the next several verses, a transitional section, Luke describes how Jesus and his disciples progressed from that place through several villages. Included in his traveling company were several women who had been healed of various ailments. Some of these women, including Mary Magdalene, provided significant financial support. The juxtaposition of this story and the brief mention of Mary Magdalene has led some commentators over the years to try to identify Mary as the woman with the alabaster jar, but there is no evidence for this -- particularly since Luke describes Mary as having been healed of "seven demons" (a medical diagnosis) rather than being "a sinner."
Preaching Possibilities
Sunday after Sunday we do it, in many of our churches. We begin our worship with a prayer of confession. Following that, we hear an "assurance of God's pardon," an "absolution," or something similar. Week after week, those words are pretty much the same. They're all some variation on a single theme: "In Jesus Christ, we have been forgiven."
The question is: Do we believe it?
Most of us do believe it, on an intellectual level. It's right there in the Apostles' Creed, isn't it? "I believe ... in the forgiveness of sins." Everyone knows that forgiveness is part of Christianity. But do we believe it, really? Do we believe it on the gut level, where so much of life is really lived?
Simon has a hard time believing it. Not the more familiar Simon -- but Simon the Pharisee. Luke tells us how Simon has invited Jesus to his home for dinner. And what a home it is: one of the largest and finest in town. Simon's dinner-party invitations are justifiably famous (and that fact has not escaped the notice of Simon himself, who takes great pride in his entertaining). At the home of Simon the Pharisee, the food is always first rate, the wine is plentiful, and the guest list is carefully tailored to insure witty and amusing conversation.
No one knows how Simon does it, but he's always got someone special at his dinner parties, a celebrity who's the talk of the town. Tonight's guest of honor is Jesus of Nazareth.
Everything's humming along just fine with Simon's banquet. The guests are reclining on couches, in good Roman fashion. The servants are filling the low tables in front of each one with all manner of delectable dishes. Off to the side, musicians are playing. No guest need so much as to raise a finger, to have a cup refilled or a second helping delivered. At the head of the room is Simon himself, his cheeks flushed with wine, a genial smile on his face: ever the gracious host, deftly directing the conversation for the amusement and edification of his guests.
But then it happens: one of those strange occurrences that no one could ever have predicted. The woman probably entered with the others -- those friends of friends and hangers-on, who stand around the fringes of banquets of the rich and famous. But unlike the others in the standing-room-only section, this woman doesn't keep silent. She darts right into the inner circle of guests, before the servants can stop her, and positions herself behind Jesus' couch.
A perfume jar, carved from the finest alabaster, appears from her sleeve, where it has been hidden. She breaks it at the neck, and pours great quantities of the stuff over Jesus' feet. The flowery aroma fills the room, masking even the odor of roast meat. Conversation grinds to a halt, as every head turns to behold this breach of etiquette.
The nameless woman is sobbing and weeping uncontrollably (how embarrassing!). She unpins her long hair, and -- to the amazement of everyone -- uses her hair to wipe Jesus' feet. No respectable Jewish woman would ever think of doing such a thing: to let her hair down in public, for a man who is not her husband. What sort of low-class character is this, anyway?
Simon looks over at his guest of honor in embarrassment, mortified that this has happened in his house. But then he perceives that, for Jesus, this seems to be the most natural thing in the world. Forget the woman, what sort of rabbi is this, anyway, who smiles at such a sleazy character as this?
Jesus must have sensed the judgment in Simon's eyes, for he turns to his host and tells him a parable. It's about two debtors, one who owes 500 denarii -- more than a year's wages! -- and another one who owes fifty. If the creditor suddenly cancels both debts, Jesus asks, which man will be more grateful?
"Why, the one with the greater debt," Simon replies. ("This is real no-brainer," he thinks to himself.)
"You have judged rightly," says Jesus. Then he goes on to chide his host for not giving him such an effusive welcome! "Therefore, I tell you," he says to his host, "her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little."
With that, the gaiety of the party is punctured beyond repair. Everyone leaves early. Never before has Simon known such a rude and inconsiderate dinner guest. Good riddance to this Nazarene rabbi!
Church tradition has long maintained that the woman with the alabaster jar is a person of low morals, maybe even a prostitute -- but there's no evidence in scripture to support that claim. Luke simply tells us that her sins are "many" and that Jesus declares her to be forgiven of every last one.
The verb he uses is a perfect form: her sins "have been forgiven." It's not that Jesus forgives her on account of what she's just done for him; her sins have already been forgiven, as she spreads perfume on his feet. That's why she's weeping. Her tears are tears of gratitude of overwhelming, expansive joy!
Simon finds it hard to understand that kind of forgiveness. He's a Pharisee, who's dedicated his life to memorizing and following minute, detailed laws. For every ethical offense in Simon's moral universe, there is an equal and opposite procedure to follow in order to atone for that sin. Forgiveness is real, in Simon's way of looking at things, but it must be earned. Forgiveness can only be achieved by climbing rung after painful rung of the ladder of righteousness. For a woman like this -- a notorious sinner -- there is no forgiveness without years of prayer, of sacrifices in the temple. She can't be forgiven just like that, in one fell swoop. It's just not done!
And so Jesus leaves Simon's dinner party in uncomfortable silence. He has dared to tell a sinner to her face that she has received God's blessing and now the Pharisees are whispering, "Blasphemy!"
What Jesus declared to the woman with the alabaster jar is no different than what we say to each other every Sunday, as we assure one another of God's pardon. Yet it's not much easier for us to believe in forgiveness than it was for Simon. The impulse to works-righteousness continues strong; the law of "an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth" continues to rule our land.
There may be some who would like to pretend that we are people of good works, and therefore are virtuous people; yet the woman with the alabaster jar knows otherwise. We ought to follow her lead in opening our lives to the light of Christ's love, and feeling the overwhelming blessing of his forgiveness!
Prayer For The Day
God, you gave us a Garden of Eden,
but we have chosen to wander in deserts of our own making.
Our sin is ever before us.
We are grateful that not only do you hear the confession
of our hearts and our lips,
but that you offer grace so freely.
Even before we utter the words,
our sin is not only forgiven,
but forgotten.
May we live as grace-filled people,
knowing in our heart of hearts
that this is true. Amen.
To Illustrate
Children, being innocent, love justice. Adults, being guilty, love mercy.
-- G. K. Chesterton
***
A woman named Katherine Ann Power discovered the reality of forgiveness. Her name may not be so familiar, because it flashed across the newspaper headlines very quickly indeed. Katherine Power turned herself in to the police in 1993, after more than twenty years as a fugitive.
In 1970, she had driven the getaway car for a Boston bank robbery. A student radical at the time, she had justified her action as a legitimate way to raise money for the revolution she felt certain was coming. The romance of revolution suddenly faded for her, though, as a police officer named Walter Schroeder was gunned down. Officer Schroeder left nine children behind.
Katherine's accomplices were all captured, but she slipped off into middle-class America. She created a false identity for herself, got married, moved into a suburban home. Then, in 1993, weary of running, tired of dreading that knock on the door, she turned herself in.
What would the family of Officer Schroeder say? Inquiring minds wanted to know, so the reporters looked them up, so many years later. Reactions among the Schroeder clan were mixed, but one nephew put it this way: "I was very angry back then. If this had happened back then, I would've said, 'Put her up against the wall and shoot her.' I would have loved to have taken her to my aunt's house to show her what she did -- to show her those nine children."
Twenty years' time, though, can bring a healing effect. Officer Schroeder's nephew went on to talk of forgiveness: "For 49 years I was taught to forgive -- by my church, by my father. It gets imbedded in you more and more as you grow older. We have a very short life to live. There's no use hating people. I want my children to forgive."
***
... churches are not Victorian parlors where everything is always picked up and ready for guests. They are messy family rooms. Entering a person's house unexpectedly, we are sometimes met with a barrage of apologies.... Things are out of order, to be sure, but that is what happens to churches that are lived in. They are not show rooms. They are living rooms, and if the persons living in them are sinners, there are going to be clothes scattered about, handprints on the woodwork, and mud on the carpet. For as long as Jesus insists on calling sinners and not the righteous to repentance -- and there is no indication as yet that he has changed his policy in that regard -- churches are going to be embarrassing to the fastidious and an affront to the upright.
-- Eugene Peterson
***
There are two sides to forgiveness: giving and receiving. Although at first sight giving seems to be harder, it often appears that we are not able to offer forgiveness to others because we have not been able fully to receive it. Only as people who have accepted forgiveness can we find the inner freedom to give it. Why is receiving forgiveness so difficult? It is very hard to say, "Without your forgiveness I am still bound to what happened between us. Only you can set me free." That requires not only a confession that we have hurt somebody but also the humility to acknowledge our dependency on others. Only when we can receive forgiveness can we give it.
-- Henri J. M. Nouwen
***
What blocks forgiveness is not God's reticence ... but ours. God's arms are always extended; we are the ones who turn away.
-- Philip Yancey, What's So Amazing About Grace? (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Zondervan, 1997), p. 52
***
Rabbi Harold Kushner tells about looking out at a full synagogue on Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. "Men and women who attend no other service of the year attend this one. People who usually arrive halfway through one of our lengthy services make sure to come on time tonight," he observes.
When all is ready and all are seated, Rabbi Kushner nods to the cantor, who chants: "By consent of the authorities in heaven and on earth, we permit sinners to enter and be part of the congregation."
"People crowd into that service," Kushner says, "because they know their shortcomings and they need a word of forgiveness and acceptance."
-- Harold Kushner, How Good Do We Have to Be?: An Understanding of Guilt and Forgiveness (Boston: Back Bay Books, 1997), p. 1
God's forgiveness is a reality so wonderful, it can be hard to accept.
Old Testament
1 Kings 21:1-10 (11-14) 15-21a
Naboth's Vineyard
The outline of this story is familiar, for similar land-grabs have been taking place in Palestine for centuries, continuing even to our own day. In a sort of confiscation by eminent domain, King Ahab tells Naboth, a vineyard owner, that he wants to buy his vineyard. Naboth boldly refuses. He tells the king that this is his ancestral land. Ahab goes home and sulks. His wife, Jezebel, ridiculing him for his weakness, springs into action. She sends letters out bearing the king's seal, inciting some scoundrels to accuse Naboth of treasonous remarks. The people stone him to death, as a result. Ahab assumes ownership of Naboth's vineyard. God sends Elijah to Ahab, to confront the king with his errors. Elijah curses him with these words: "In the place where dogs licked up the blood of Naboth, dogs will also lick up your blood" (v. 19). Ahab evidently has a guilty conscience, for he responds to Elijah, "Have you found me, O my enemy?" (v. 20). Elijah vows to bring disaster on this evil king.
New Testament Lesson
Galatians 2:15-21
Crucified With Christ
There was a fault line in the first-century church -- the division between the Jewish Christian faction represented by Peter and James, and the Gentile Christian faction represented by Paul. In verses 11-14 that precede today's reading, Paul explains how he had once criticized Peter for backpedaling away from his initial openness to the Gentiles that he had developed after receiving his vision at Joppa (see Acts 10). After making such progress, Peter had subsequently allowed the Jewish Christian hard-liners to browbeat him into no longer eating with Gentiles. In today's passage, Paul outlines his reasons for advocating an inclusive faith that is equally open to Jews and Gentiles. "A person is justified," he declares, "not by the works of the law but through faith in Jesus Christ" (v. 16). Well, what about those believers who still fall into sin? That, says Paul, is no argument. Sin happens. In order to come to Christ, we must "die to the law" (v. 19). "I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me" (vv. 19-20). Episodes of human sinfulness "do not nullify the grace of God; for if justification comes through the law, then Christ died for nothing" (v. 21).
The Gospel
Luke 7:36--8:3
The Woman With The Alabaster Jar, And The Parable Of Two Debtors
(For a parallel passage, see John 12:1-8, a reading for the Fifth Sunday In Lent.) While Jesus is dining in the home of a Pharisee named Simon, an anonymous woman, "a sinner," comes into the room. She stands at the foot of the couch where Jesus is reclining, in Roman fashion. Weeping, she bathes his feet with her tears and wipes them with her hair. Kissing Jesus' feet, she begins anointing them with perfumed ointment. Discerning that Simon is beginning to doubt Jesus' integrity for allowing such an unseemly display to continue, Jesus tells a parable of two debtors. Each has had his debt forgiven: one for a trivial sum, the other for a large amount. Which one, Jesus asks Simon, will love his lender more? Simon agrees that it would be the one who had been forgiven for the greater debt. Jesus teaches that it is the same for the woman who is anointing his feet: She has been forgiven for many terrible sins. But as for people like Simon, "the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little" (v. 47). Jesus then publicly forgives the woman, which further stirs up the Pharisees, who are offended at his presumption in forgiving sins (v. 49). In the next several verses, a transitional section, Luke describes how Jesus and his disciples progressed from that place through several villages. Included in his traveling company were several women who had been healed of various ailments. Some of these women, including Mary Magdalene, provided significant financial support. The juxtaposition of this story and the brief mention of Mary Magdalene has led some commentators over the years to try to identify Mary as the woman with the alabaster jar, but there is no evidence for this -- particularly since Luke describes Mary as having been healed of "seven demons" (a medical diagnosis) rather than being "a sinner."
Preaching Possibilities
Sunday after Sunday we do it, in many of our churches. We begin our worship with a prayer of confession. Following that, we hear an "assurance of God's pardon," an "absolution," or something similar. Week after week, those words are pretty much the same. They're all some variation on a single theme: "In Jesus Christ, we have been forgiven."
The question is: Do we believe it?
Most of us do believe it, on an intellectual level. It's right there in the Apostles' Creed, isn't it? "I believe ... in the forgiveness of sins." Everyone knows that forgiveness is part of Christianity. But do we believe it, really? Do we believe it on the gut level, where so much of life is really lived?
Simon has a hard time believing it. Not the more familiar Simon -- but Simon the Pharisee. Luke tells us how Simon has invited Jesus to his home for dinner. And what a home it is: one of the largest and finest in town. Simon's dinner-party invitations are justifiably famous (and that fact has not escaped the notice of Simon himself, who takes great pride in his entertaining). At the home of Simon the Pharisee, the food is always first rate, the wine is plentiful, and the guest list is carefully tailored to insure witty and amusing conversation.
No one knows how Simon does it, but he's always got someone special at his dinner parties, a celebrity who's the talk of the town. Tonight's guest of honor is Jesus of Nazareth.
Everything's humming along just fine with Simon's banquet. The guests are reclining on couches, in good Roman fashion. The servants are filling the low tables in front of each one with all manner of delectable dishes. Off to the side, musicians are playing. No guest need so much as to raise a finger, to have a cup refilled or a second helping delivered. At the head of the room is Simon himself, his cheeks flushed with wine, a genial smile on his face: ever the gracious host, deftly directing the conversation for the amusement and edification of his guests.
But then it happens: one of those strange occurrences that no one could ever have predicted. The woman probably entered with the others -- those friends of friends and hangers-on, who stand around the fringes of banquets of the rich and famous. But unlike the others in the standing-room-only section, this woman doesn't keep silent. She darts right into the inner circle of guests, before the servants can stop her, and positions herself behind Jesus' couch.
A perfume jar, carved from the finest alabaster, appears from her sleeve, where it has been hidden. She breaks it at the neck, and pours great quantities of the stuff over Jesus' feet. The flowery aroma fills the room, masking even the odor of roast meat. Conversation grinds to a halt, as every head turns to behold this breach of etiquette.
The nameless woman is sobbing and weeping uncontrollably (how embarrassing!). She unpins her long hair, and -- to the amazement of everyone -- uses her hair to wipe Jesus' feet. No respectable Jewish woman would ever think of doing such a thing: to let her hair down in public, for a man who is not her husband. What sort of low-class character is this, anyway?
Simon looks over at his guest of honor in embarrassment, mortified that this has happened in his house. But then he perceives that, for Jesus, this seems to be the most natural thing in the world. Forget the woman, what sort of rabbi is this, anyway, who smiles at such a sleazy character as this?
Jesus must have sensed the judgment in Simon's eyes, for he turns to his host and tells him a parable. It's about two debtors, one who owes 500 denarii -- more than a year's wages! -- and another one who owes fifty. If the creditor suddenly cancels both debts, Jesus asks, which man will be more grateful?
"Why, the one with the greater debt," Simon replies. ("This is real no-brainer," he thinks to himself.)
"You have judged rightly," says Jesus. Then he goes on to chide his host for not giving him such an effusive welcome! "Therefore, I tell you," he says to his host, "her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little."
With that, the gaiety of the party is punctured beyond repair. Everyone leaves early. Never before has Simon known such a rude and inconsiderate dinner guest. Good riddance to this Nazarene rabbi!
Church tradition has long maintained that the woman with the alabaster jar is a person of low morals, maybe even a prostitute -- but there's no evidence in scripture to support that claim. Luke simply tells us that her sins are "many" and that Jesus declares her to be forgiven of every last one.
The verb he uses is a perfect form: her sins "have been forgiven." It's not that Jesus forgives her on account of what she's just done for him; her sins have already been forgiven, as she spreads perfume on his feet. That's why she's weeping. Her tears are tears of gratitude of overwhelming, expansive joy!
Simon finds it hard to understand that kind of forgiveness. He's a Pharisee, who's dedicated his life to memorizing and following minute, detailed laws. For every ethical offense in Simon's moral universe, there is an equal and opposite procedure to follow in order to atone for that sin. Forgiveness is real, in Simon's way of looking at things, but it must be earned. Forgiveness can only be achieved by climbing rung after painful rung of the ladder of righteousness. For a woman like this -- a notorious sinner -- there is no forgiveness without years of prayer, of sacrifices in the temple. She can't be forgiven just like that, in one fell swoop. It's just not done!
And so Jesus leaves Simon's dinner party in uncomfortable silence. He has dared to tell a sinner to her face that she has received God's blessing and now the Pharisees are whispering, "Blasphemy!"
What Jesus declared to the woman with the alabaster jar is no different than what we say to each other every Sunday, as we assure one another of God's pardon. Yet it's not much easier for us to believe in forgiveness than it was for Simon. The impulse to works-righteousness continues strong; the law of "an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth" continues to rule our land.
There may be some who would like to pretend that we are people of good works, and therefore are virtuous people; yet the woman with the alabaster jar knows otherwise. We ought to follow her lead in opening our lives to the light of Christ's love, and feeling the overwhelming blessing of his forgiveness!
Prayer For The Day
God, you gave us a Garden of Eden,
but we have chosen to wander in deserts of our own making.
Our sin is ever before us.
We are grateful that not only do you hear the confession
of our hearts and our lips,
but that you offer grace so freely.
Even before we utter the words,
our sin is not only forgiven,
but forgotten.
May we live as grace-filled people,
knowing in our heart of hearts
that this is true. Amen.
To Illustrate
Children, being innocent, love justice. Adults, being guilty, love mercy.
-- G. K. Chesterton
***
A woman named Katherine Ann Power discovered the reality of forgiveness. Her name may not be so familiar, because it flashed across the newspaper headlines very quickly indeed. Katherine Power turned herself in to the police in 1993, after more than twenty years as a fugitive.
In 1970, she had driven the getaway car for a Boston bank robbery. A student radical at the time, she had justified her action as a legitimate way to raise money for the revolution she felt certain was coming. The romance of revolution suddenly faded for her, though, as a police officer named Walter Schroeder was gunned down. Officer Schroeder left nine children behind.
Katherine's accomplices were all captured, but she slipped off into middle-class America. She created a false identity for herself, got married, moved into a suburban home. Then, in 1993, weary of running, tired of dreading that knock on the door, she turned herself in.
What would the family of Officer Schroeder say? Inquiring minds wanted to know, so the reporters looked them up, so many years later. Reactions among the Schroeder clan were mixed, but one nephew put it this way: "I was very angry back then. If this had happened back then, I would've said, 'Put her up against the wall and shoot her.' I would have loved to have taken her to my aunt's house to show her what she did -- to show her those nine children."
Twenty years' time, though, can bring a healing effect. Officer Schroeder's nephew went on to talk of forgiveness: "For 49 years I was taught to forgive -- by my church, by my father. It gets imbedded in you more and more as you grow older. We have a very short life to live. There's no use hating people. I want my children to forgive."
***
... churches are not Victorian parlors where everything is always picked up and ready for guests. They are messy family rooms. Entering a person's house unexpectedly, we are sometimes met with a barrage of apologies.... Things are out of order, to be sure, but that is what happens to churches that are lived in. They are not show rooms. They are living rooms, and if the persons living in them are sinners, there are going to be clothes scattered about, handprints on the woodwork, and mud on the carpet. For as long as Jesus insists on calling sinners and not the righteous to repentance -- and there is no indication as yet that he has changed his policy in that regard -- churches are going to be embarrassing to the fastidious and an affront to the upright.
-- Eugene Peterson
***
There are two sides to forgiveness: giving and receiving. Although at first sight giving seems to be harder, it often appears that we are not able to offer forgiveness to others because we have not been able fully to receive it. Only as people who have accepted forgiveness can we find the inner freedom to give it. Why is receiving forgiveness so difficult? It is very hard to say, "Without your forgiveness I am still bound to what happened between us. Only you can set me free." That requires not only a confession that we have hurt somebody but also the humility to acknowledge our dependency on others. Only when we can receive forgiveness can we give it.
-- Henri J. M. Nouwen
***
What blocks forgiveness is not God's reticence ... but ours. God's arms are always extended; we are the ones who turn away.
-- Philip Yancey, What's So Amazing About Grace? (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Zondervan, 1997), p. 52
***
Rabbi Harold Kushner tells about looking out at a full synagogue on Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. "Men and women who attend no other service of the year attend this one. People who usually arrive halfway through one of our lengthy services make sure to come on time tonight," he observes.
When all is ready and all are seated, Rabbi Kushner nods to the cantor, who chants: "By consent of the authorities in heaven and on earth, we permit sinners to enter and be part of the congregation."
"People crowd into that service," Kushner says, "because they know their shortcomings and they need a word of forgiveness and acceptance."
-- Harold Kushner, How Good Do We Have to Be?: An Understanding of Guilt and Forgiveness (Boston: Back Bay Books, 1997), p. 1
