Remember those awkward collisions of somewhat sacred words when worshippers from different backgrounds tried to blend their versions of Jesus’ prayer: “forgive us our *#*%@ as we forgive those who #*%&@* against us…” At least, that’s what it sounded like as “debts and debtors” took on “trespasses and those who trespass against us…”
This war of the words can easily distract us from the substance of the utterances. Somewhat like that preacher who began the sermon with these words: “While we are here for an hour to worship, 240 children will die of starvation, and we won’t give a damn.” When the gasp subsided, the minister asked them which was more offensive: that he had used a “bad” word or that those children had died from our indifference.
These words asking God to forgive our debts and/or trespasses come right out of Jesus’ background of observing Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. Here’s where we all strip ourselves of our own righteousness before God and beg for mercy and forgiveness for all we have done wrong or left undone. Out here in the far country, we confess our misery on the way home to the prodigal Father who runs halfway down the driveway to embrace us back into the fold.
The hardest part of all comes with the “as we forgive our debtors and/or those who have trespassed against us…” Jesus pushes us take on the proactive form of faith that turns the other cheek, goes the second mile, and does not return evil for evil, but takes thought for what is noble in the sight of all. Being forgiven does not automatically transform us into forgiving people.
Here’s where gospel encounters our prejudices against those who are unlike us. Jesus dares us to love our enemies and to see the good even in those we think disdainful so that we are free to live on the upside of atonement and appreciate the “other.” Rather than our benign neglect for those 240 children or our indifference toward those black lives seeking some semblance of equal justice under the law, we turn the words of our mouths and the meditations of our hearts into deeds of compassion as God has been compassionate with the likes of us. And this leads us to a hope so desperately needed in our current disparity.
Just days before her death, Anne Frank wrote in her diary: “…in spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart… I see the world gradually being turned into a wilderness, I hear the ever approaching thunder, which will destroy us too, I can feel the sufferings of millions and yet, if I look up into the heavens, I think it will all come right, that this cruelty too will end, and that peace and tranquility will return again.”
Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg died on the eve of Rosh Hashana, the Jewish new year. Fittingly, it was a day when Jews look backward and forward, reflecting on what has passed, and preparing for what is to come. Justice Ginsburg’s death marks the end of her long battle on behalf of equality for all Americans. She deserves all the honor and respect we can muster as a nation of many faiths and creeds.
Yom Kippur begins tonight at sundown. In our current wilderness full of pandemic and racial unrest and all the religious and political shams and shenanigans going on right now, we could surely use the power of repentance and forgiveness while taking thought for what is noble in the sight of all like Anne Frank and RBG did in their beautiful lifetimes. Shalom.
The discussion over ‘debts’ and ‘trespasses’ always brings dispute between the followers of the Church of Scotland (debts) and the Church of England (trespasses) but the difference is simply an indication of national priorities. The English are concerned about landholding and discourage trespassing whereas the Scots always have an eye to the money and are discouraging of debt!