11th Sunday in Ordinary Time: Forgiveness to Cry For

Forgiveness.

That’s a tough word to understand, isn’t it?

You might say it’s a word custom-make to trip you up.

When life’s going good, for instance,
and we’re moving along just fine,
some bully throws a log in our path,
and we stumble.

When that happens
we respond as best we can:
to pick ourselves up and get back on our feet.

But, then the word forgiveness
and we stumble all over again.

Why?
Because, when life gives us push
or someone shoves us in the back,
resentment gets under our skin
as easy as dirt infects an abrasion.

And it’s hard to catch your balance
when you’ve already been thrown off balance.

That’s why I say the word forgiveness
is custom-made to trip you up.

* * *

But sometimes the problem is not in the feet.
There are times when forgiveness gets caught in the throat
and makes us choke.

This happens when the tables are turned,
when we’re the one committing the foul in the game…
.
when we’re the one doing the tripping.
when we’re the one to blame,

Think about it,
when get caught, what do we do?

Why, we press our back in the corner and choke out a plea:

“Sorry. Didn’t mean it. Honest. (We clear our throat).
Forgive me, all right?
I said I’m sorry. Okay? Al right? (choke, choke).”

That’s what we do when we screw up and get caught.
We cough up the word forgiveness
and hope for the best.


So, let me summarize my points so far:
1. When someone trips us up,
we resent the expectation to forgive.
2. When we ourselves screw up,
the words, “I’m sorry,” get caught in the throat.


Now, let’s take a look at today’s gospel.

What’s its “take” on the word forgiveness?

Interestingly enough,
it tells us that the experience of forgiveness,
isn’t a matter of stumbling or muttering or choking on some words.

Rather, according to the Gospel,
the experience of forgiveness—I talking about true, undeserved forgiveness—
makes you sob.

* * *

Just ask the woman in today’s gospel passage.

Better yet, ask yourself.

How did it feel the last time
you experienced forgiveness

for something
so embarrassing,
so humiliating
so…unforgivable…


that the only response was to break down and sob?


You probably don’t want to talk it, do you?

You prefer not to call it to mind, am I right?

Then again, maybe the Lord hasn’t yet brought you far enough down the road
of spiritual maturity
to give that blessing.

If it hasn’t happened yet, it’s going to. Someday.

We’re all sinners, writes St. Paul in his Letter to the Romans.
We all far short.

Forgiveness. What’s it like to experience pure, underserved forgiveness?

The Bible provides a couple of examples.

St. Peter entered experience
through in the gray light of early dawn
when he heard the rooster crow,
and the jangle of the jailer’s key
and his words of denial
echo off the courtyard wall
outside the Jerusalem jail.

This weekend the woman with jar of oil enters the experience
amid the sound of jeers and ridicule
the night she crashes the party at the home of Simon the Pharisee.

* * *

What about you?

If you’re like me,
you resist the experience.

When I mess up,
I try to make it right.

When I fall down,
I’m quick to get up.

When I fall behind,
I double my efforts.

But God doesn’t ask for that.
He doesn’t expect that.

He just wants you to receive it.

The gift. His gift. The gift of forgiveness.

Total, undeserved forgiveness.

* * *

When you’re ready, he’ll hand it to you.

When he does,
you’ll never be the same.