FORGIVE US OUR TRESSPASSES
Mark 6:14-29
Jargon, especially religious jargon, consists of loaded words
attached to loaded concepts. It is always challenging for us to
hear old words with new ears and find in them a deeper meaning.
Sometimes it is difficult to get past the words because of our hardened
ways of hearing and understanding. “Forgive our trespasses” is a
phrase that bears the burden of our sometimes malformed concepts.
The Gospel of Mark tells the story of John Baptist indirectly.
John Baptist is a character who is talked about but with little insight
into his thoughts and feelings. Mark describes Herod’s recall of
events surrounding the Baptist’s death; a death which foreshadows
Christ’s crucifixion. On the screen, this would be a flashback, a
fade to the action played out in the mind of the character.
Herod suffers the pangs of conscience. Confronted by the demands
of Jesus’ words and actions, he is afraid. He is afraid because
of the guilt he bears, because of the self-hatred, the loathing for who
he is. John’s death – actually murder – haunts Herod,
perhaps not because he had him killed but why.
Manipulated into doing something he had not intended and unable to take
a stand, he yielded to the pressures he perceived from within his
household and circle of supporters.
In a way, Mark reveals and highlights the opposite of the Christ
nature. Jesus’ reaction to the situation he and his disciples
found on his return to Nazareth was pressure-filled. Confronted
by family and followers who question his motive and his sanity and who
fear for his well being if he continues on the path of his calling, he
rejects their pressure. Jesus is secure in knowing that the cross
lies ahead; he, perhaps but dimly, sees the goal he is to gain.
As I hear Herod’s recall of his horrible act, I think of how often I
have let circumstance and pressure from family, friends, and those
around me control my decisions and let them push me into feelings and
actions that I regret but before which I feel helpless. There is
a measure of identification with the spirit of Herod in my own
life. I sense his dissatisfaction and discontent, all the while
blaming others for his unhappiness, anger, and fear.
Paul, writing to Timothy (I Tim 6:6) about the value of godliness,
another value-packed term, offers an axiom of Christian life: Godliness
with contentment is great gain. While that sounds awfully
“preachy” and academic, in a letter to the Philippians (4:11-12), he
also writes, “I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I
am. I know how to get along with humble means, and I also know
how to live in prosperity; in any and every circumstance I have learned
the secret of being filled and going hungry, both of having abundance
and suffering need.” Paul doesn’t just talk the talk; he has
walked the walk, suffering and abounding while realizing that things
material, popularity, creature comforts, all are ephemeral wisps of a
dying world. True and lasting meaning to life is found in the
kingdom of God. He is preaching the message of Jesus, the message
of Marks’ gospel, the message of the Good News.
Contentment. Discontent. I see this at the heart of Herod’s
problem; I see this at the heart of my own, pointing to something very
powerful, very liberating.
Why are we forever seeking that new thing—that elusive fruit of our
labor—that we just know will finally bring us to a place of peace and
rest? What drives Herod to marry Herodias; to feel so pressured
to please her and Salome, to satisfy both Jew and Rome? What
slices his conscience and steals any inner peace, filling him with fear
and turning him into a murderer? What drives the Jew and Roman to
hate Jesus to the point of nailing him to the cross?
What drives any of us to lash out in anger and demean, deny, and
ultimately destroy a sister or brother, another of God’s created
images? What drives our discontentment and robs us of our
godliness—our likeness to God? What fills us with a self-loathing
so that we are as willing to cry “Crucify!” as to shout “Halleluiah!”
and that within a breath?
The Confession in the BCP gets it right with the wording: “We have not
loved you with our whole heart; we have not loved our neighbors as
ourselves,” echoing Jesus’ summary of the law. Sin is a failure
to love. I say again, sin is a failure to love. Ungodliness
is failure to live into our God-nature, the image in which we were
made. Hatred is an expression of our inner death and
unforgiveness is an expression of our fear of exposure. Jesus,
the light that came into the world was forever battling against the
dark in which we sit, immobilized and unable to move out of
ourselves. And we hated him for it.
Herod is afraid, the long shadow of guilt passes over whatever light he
might have seen in the Christ. “Father forgive them for they know
not what they do.” It was not their nails, their willingness to
put Jesus to death for which they needed forgiveness; it was their
hatred of God and of self. “Our Father which art in heaven …
forgive us our trespasses. Forgive us our trespasses as we
forgive those who trespass against us.” And those against whom we
have trespassed.
Frederick A. Buechner, a priest in Georgia, writes about his encounter with Billy Budd
— a short opera with libretto by novelist E.M. Forster, based on a
novella of the same name by Hermann Melville. I reread that story
this week. Billy Budd is set on an English frigate at the
end of the 18th century. The main characters are Billy, an
innocent young sailor as a Christ figure - all beauty, truth,
goodness. He runs afoul of the Master-at-Arms John Claggart, one
of the most horrid and despicable characters in all literature, a man
consumed with envy. The other main character is the ship’s
Captain Vere.
Captain Vere, in an opening monologue, reminisces about his life aboard
ship and the horrible thing he allowed to happen. Claggart,
overcome with envy of Billy’s beauty, falsely accuses Billy of
mutiny. Unable to speak in his defense due to a congenital
stutter, Billy lashes out and a blow from his fist accidentally kills
Claggart. Vere, totally convinced of Billy’s innocence and not
believing his Master at Arms for a moment, still allows Billy to be
hanged from the yardarm. Billy forgives and blesses Vere in
the moment before his execution. The story then reverts to Vere’s
attempts to fathom his absence of guilt as he sings a final monologue.
It seems that goodness always exacts a price; the only thing we can be
sure of in this life – other than death and taxes – is God’s love and
forgiveness. Hear Forrester’s words from the Prologue:
“I am an old man who has experienced much.
I have been a man of action and have fought for my King and country at
sea. I have also read books and studied and pondered and tried to
fathom eternal truth. Much good has been shown me and much evil
and the good has never been perfect. There is always some flaw in
it, some defect, some imperfection in the divine image, some fault in
the angelic song, some stammer in the divine speech. So that the
devil still has something to do with every human consignment to this
planet of earth. Oh what have I done? Confusion, so much is
confusion! I have tried to guide others, but I have been lost on
the infinite sea.”
Such is the predicament of every man and woman without
Christ. To Vere’s credit however, he not only knows what he has
done wrong, he also knows that in Christ, God has forgiven him.
From the opera’s epilogue – and could this not be Herod or Pontius
Pilate?
“I could have saved him; I could have saved
him. He knew it; even his shipmates knew it, though earthly laws
silenced them. Oh what have I done? But he saved me, and
blessed me, and the love that passes understanding has come to
me. I was lost on the infinite sea, but I’ve sighted a sail in
the storm, the far-shining sail, and I’m content. I’ve seen where
she’s bound for. There’s a land where she’ll anchor for
ever. I am an old man now, and my mind can go back in peace to
that far-away summer…”
The power of forgiveness is real; as real as the evil we
encounter in the world and in our hearts. I highly recommend a
visit to the website of a group called The Forgiveness Project (www.theforgivenessproject.com).
Based in the UK but global in scope and purpose, they work “to help
build a future free of conflict and violence by healing the wounds of
the past. By collecting and sharing people’s stories, the project
encourages and empowers people to explore the nature of forgiveness and
alternatives to revenge.” Comprised of many stories from
individuals from around the world, it is a moving place to find insight
into the why and how of learning to forgive and be forgiven.
In the midst of all the chaos of this world, it still remains possible
to know the Peace of God which passes understanding – and that those
who fail to be “content” with who and what they are in and through
Christ are doomed to live and die with an unspeakable guilt.
“…forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us…”
The Rev. John Dryden Burton
St. James Episcopal Church
Eureka Springs
12 JULY 2009