THE DIVINE ANSWER

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Happy are those whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. Happy are those to whom the Lord imputes no iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no deceit. While I kept silence, my body wasted away through my groaning all day long. For day and night your hand was heavy upon me; my strength was dried up as by the heat of summer. Then I acknowledged my sin to you, and I did not hide my iniquity; I said, "I will confess my transgressions to the Lord," and you forgave the guilt of my sin. Psalm 32:1-5

To all of the customers of the local florist who got sneezing powder in their flowers last Tuesday, I apologize. You were really not the intended victims. I just wanted to make you angry at the florist, my stingy employer. I wasn't trying to hurt you. Bill

I'm sorry. You were waiting for the car to get out of the parking place so you could back in. I slid in frontward—I had to do this because I was desperate to get into the store so I could use the men's room, and there were no other spaces. My apologies. I hope you read this and understand. Driver of gray Honda.

To all my high school classmates, I am so sorry for those mornings when I came to school without brushing my teeth. I don't know where I got the idea that if I didn't eat, I didn't need to brush. I know you tried to hint, but I didn't "get it."

For all the things that happened to you as a kid that I never knew about. Maybe you were told not to tell me, but I should have been there for you, and you should have been able to tell me anything. For the fact that you weren't and I wasn't, I am truly sorry. Mom

Recently, I discovered several websites on which people can anonymously post apologies like those above. Some who post on these sites apparently don't know how to reach those they have wronged. In the case of others, the person wronged is deceased. Still others seem unwilling or not yet prepared to apologize directly to the individuals. Some of the postings are humorous; some are far more weighty. I think all of us can find a part of ourselves in one of them.

In a sermon called "To Whom Much is Forgiven," twentieth-century existentialist theologian Paul Tillich offers a perspective that speaks to people such as the above, and to all of us. Tillich wrote, "Forgiveness is an answer, the divine answer, to the question implied in our existence" (The New Being [New York: Scribner's, 1955]).

I would suggest that there are at least three questions "implied in our existence," to which forgiveness is God's answer. For example, in the apology of the mother, if you are the child who has been wounded, who perhaps experienced abuse when you were little, and whose mother did nothing to stop it, the question implied is How do I keep bitterness, anger, hate, or the desire for revenge from consuming me? If you are the mother who feels great guilt because you didn't step in to stop the abuse, there are perhaps two questions implied: How can I be reconciled to the one I wronged? and How can my burden of guilt be removed?

Every one of us asks questions like these, and God's answer to each of them is forgiveness. While abuse may not have been a part of our story, at some point we've been wronged, at some point we've failed to intervene to stop someone else from being wronged, and in one way or another we've all wronged others. If we are not to spend our lives stumbling in the dark as wounded, angry human beings, we must know and carry with us the answer—God's answer: forgiveness.

MAKING SENSE OF SIN

Making sense of forgiveness means talking about sin, a word certain to make some people cringe. It brings to mind preachers who use the word to beat people down, or to frighten and intimidate children, applying it to all sorts of acts that aren't really sin, from going to the movies to learning to dance. But understood correctly, the concept of sin is one that serves a very useful purpose in any discussion of forgiveness.

The Greek and Hebrew words most often translated as sin in the Bible refer to "missing the mark" (think archery and an arrow that misses the target) or "straying from the path" (picture someone wandering off a trail and getting hopelessly lost). The implication is that there is a mark, an ideal, or a path that we are meant to follow in order to have a proper relationship with others and with God. We are meant to love. We are meant to do justice. We are meant to care for people and put their needs before our own. We are meant to tell the truth, to be faithful, to do the kind and loving thing. If we did these things all the time, there would be no need for forgiveness.

I suspect that all of us, whether we have any religious faith or not, could agree that there is a way we're meant to live, an ideal path we should take. We know, too, that most of us struggle in walking that path. We stray at times. In fact, it seems to be the human condition that we stray too often and too easily. We use the word temptation to describe those things that draw us away.

The Bible opens with a story of temptation, one that is the archetype or pattern for how we human beings have struggled and succumbed ever since. In the story of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, God offered paradise if this first couple would obey a simple rule: don't eat from one tree. They could eat anything else they wanted, but, essentially, God said to them, "This one tree will bring harm to you and your offspring. This is the path: enjoy everything, and be fruitful and multiply. Just avoid that tree right over there." But, of course, that was the one tree they came most desperately to desire.

Some readers take the story literally, some figuratively, but nearly all agree that it points to our struggle with rules, with limits, and with the path. The story also points to the truth that, from the beginning, God gave humanity a profound, wonderful, and dreadful gift—freedom to walk in the path, or stray from it.

Sometimes, our straying from the path is inadvertent. I think of the last time I was pulled over for speeding. (Yes, it has happened more than once.) I truly did not mean to be going so fast. I told the officer as I handed him my license, "I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention." That actually did not help my cause. Rather, he suggested that my comment was worthy of a second ticket!

On other occasions, we know the path but make a conscious decision to stray from it. We realize the path calls us to be honest, but being honest might lose us the deal, or cost us more taxes, or embarrass us. So, we step off the path, hoping no one finds out and planning to get back on somewhere down the way.

Yes, Adam and Eve's story is our story. Healthy autonomy turns to unhealthy ego. I become the most important thing in my life, the thing around which the entire universe revolves. I live my life with blinders on, thinking only, "How can I be happy? How can I be safe?" I begin to care less and less about you as I go after what benefits me. I ignore your feelings while seeking to avoid suffering myself. I fail to do the right and loving thing, and...