“If you forgive men their transgressions,
your heavenly Father will forgive you.
But if you do not forgive men,
neither will your Father forgive your transgressions.”
The question comes up periodically among devout Christians, "Will my dog go to heaven?" Perhaps it might be rephrased as, "Do animals have souls?" and we can engage in the more serious conversation about what it means to be human.
I know people who react like Pavlov's dogs at certain stimuli. Should you mention the name of certain persons they immediately launch into an ugly story about that person, that you've heard a dozen times before. It's embarrassing if you're in polite conversation with others who've also suffered the same recurring story. You have little choice but to wait for the spasm to pass, but it may be followed by several similar and too familiar stories.
Being fully human includes self-awareness of one's thoughts, moods, habits, reactions, and the choices offered by each passing moment. Hearing a familiar name, shall I tell my story about that person, or has my audience heard it already? Will it edify or depress? Why do I want to tell this story again; what does it mean to me; and what do I gain by retelling it? Is there an unrecognized trauma that needs professional, or at least serious, attention?
Or perhaps, it's not that important to me anymore, and I can let the opportunity pass.
Grace enables me to forgive and forget past hurts. Their memories are no longer important, I have no further need for them. I have recovered my self-esteem since that long ago insult. Or, at least, the story only makes me look foolish and I can suppress the urge to tell it.
Today we have heard the Lord's teaching about prayer and his singular genius expressed in the familiar Lord's Prayer. And, in case we missed it, we have heard Jesus immediately underline the passage about forgiving as we are forgiven.
"...for he makes his sun rise on the bad and the good, and causes rain to fall on the just and the unjust." (Mt 5:45)
Saint Columban was an Irish monk and founder of several monasteries in Ireland and Europe. Due to his extraordinary holiness and leadership ability, he was also a lifelong abbot. He had a personal code which he shared with others: "Hate no one; it's a sin against charity. Love no one; it's a sin against justice."
The second sentence sounds shocking at first. But I think, in the context of justice, love means an abbot's favoritism. Inevitably a leader will favor certain followers over others. They may be more useful, more ready to follow commands, quicker at understanding the leader's intentions, and so forth. In any group, we prefer some individuals over others, but leaders cannot afford that luxury. Justice will not allow it.
Responsible parents of several children never show their preference for one over another. It should be neither expressed nor suspected. A teacher can have no pets; a cop on duty can have no relatives. A preacher speaks to everyone in the room. Our affections and our blessings should be given to the bad and the good, just and the unjust. I believe that mature human beings live that way.
Jesus clearly loved the young man we call John, but he learned from the Master never to think too highly of himself. He hardly appears in his own Gospel, and close readers have to suspect which one he might be. When he outran Peter to the tomb, he stood aside to let Peter enter ahead of him. Jesus did not choose that disciple for leadership, and gave him no particular attention, except perhaps during the Last Supper. Other Gospels identify him as one of the three apostles closest to Jesus, but Peter and James were appointed to leadership.
Adult human beings recognize their impulses, reactions, thoughts, and feelings; and are guided by the Holy Spirit as they decide, act, and assess their behavior. We forgive as we are forgiven.
