Forgive Them

Father, Forgive Them . . .

September 2007

by Sally Klein O'Connor

"Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing." (Luke 23:34)

These words are addressed to God the Father, regarding all those who whipped and beat Jesus, judged and mocked Him, crowned Him with thorns, and hung Him with nails through His feet and hands on a wooden cross, exposed before the world. It has been said that His words were not only for those who brutalized Him in that moment, but for all humankind, whose sins crucified Him.

"He was not the only one crucified," a Jewish friend recently reminded me. He went on to say that hundreds of Jews were crucified during the Roman rule. But as far as I know, Jesus was the only one--up until that moment--asking God to forgive the very ones who put him on that cross.

It is these words that set Christians apart from every other religion, even from the rest of the world. There is no going back from these words and from where they were spoken. To forgive those who were obviously without remorse, even as they were killing Him, is hard enough to understand. But then to say "they," who were clearly conscious of hammer and nails, and what was spit and spoken, didn't know what they were doing when they did it--leaves most of us struggling with our issues of injustice. Yet this moment on the cross is the culmination of Jesus' teaching. He goes far beyond our limited sense of justice--and even forgiveness--to mercy. He sees what we are made of, and knows that even the worst of us, doesn't understand the depth of evil looking to lodge in the human heart, anymore than we understand how much greater, more profound and eternal is the love and goodness of God.

* * * *

Within the first year of becoming a believer I was confronted with the issue of forgiveness. As I have shared in these pages, my father and I were not friends up until that point. I harbored a lot of resentment toward him for things he had done to me and my mom--and things he didn't that I watched other kids experience with their dads. My dad's way of expressing love for us was to work as hard as he knew how, to make as much money as he could, so we could have almost everything we wanted. But he didn't know how to connect to us in a personal way. And it frustrated him that we didn't appreciate all he was doing for us. And we, of course, didn't understand why he wouldn't give us more of his time, attention, and affection. As the years went by misunderstanding built a wall between us, brick by brick.

One day in 1985, my father came over to my mom's house (they had been separated for years) and within five minutes he and I were on the verge of arguing. The incident started out the same as any other--and almost all of my interactions with Dad were like this--but this one ended up entirely different. As our conversation began to heat up a question surfaced in my mind, "Is this what your faith is about?" As brand new as I was to the faith, I understood that fighting with my father was not part of following Jesus. I can still remember saying to my dad, "I'm going to my room now." It was the longest walk over the shortest distance I have ever made. Once I was safely inside, several realizations hit me at once. The most powerful was that I had stopped seeing my dad as a person. He had become the accumulation of all the perceived wrongs I felt he had ever done to me, my mom--and even my brother. I had buried his humanity long ago, under an ever-growing list of "crimes" for which I held him personally responsible. And so, whenever I interacted with him, that list was always present--in my heart and mind--just waiting for the smallest trigger to ignite my vintage sense of injustice and anger. But that day everything changed.

As I realized the truth of my feelings, I was reminded of my dad's humanity--of his struggles with his own sense of inadequacy and failure. I remembered that he was a man--a human being. Because of this revelation I no longer saw him as the list in my head portrayed him. I saw him, instead, as a person, a hurting human being. And I was able to forgive him and begin to love him again--as he was. I believe that moment ultimately led to my father receiving the Lord, which he did--years later. He saw my heart change toward him and he knew it was because of my faith.

Corrie ten Boom, in her book, The Hiding Place, shared how her sister Betsie saw through the horror of their circumstances to the human beings hiding in the uniforms around them:

"These young women. That girl back at the bunkers. Corrie, if people can be taught to hate, they can be taught to love! We must find the way, you and I, no matter how long it takes..."

She went on, almost forgetting in her excitement to keep her voice to a whisper, while I slowly took in the fact that she was talking about our guards. I glanced at the matron seated at the desk ahead of us. I saw a gray uniform and a visored hat; Betsie saw a wounded human being."

Over the years there have been several moments when God spoke to my heart and called me to forgive. I have always been impressed at the breakthroughs that follow real forgiveness, especially where there has been long-term hurt and offense. I have always thought that true forgiveness is something Christians understand best, but recently, I encountered a story of a non-religious Jewish woman who is a holocaust survivor. Her name is Eva Kor, and she decided to forgive the Nazis.

"Just to be free from the Nazis, that did not remove the pain they inflicted upon me. There might be another way that survivors can heal themselves, I have found one way. Forgive your worst enemy. It will heal your soul and it will set you free." (Eva Kor)

Eva Kor was one of a pair of identical twins who endured Dr Mengele's experiments during their time at Auschwitz. Their father, mother and two other siblings were killed. Eva and her sister Miriam, survived. But Miriam was injected with a drug which caused her kidneys to remain the size of a ten year old's. Miriam moved to Israel, married, and had two children, but she eventually died from Mengele's injections.

"Anytime I thought about a German, not a Nazi, I would say I hate those Germans. And when you say I hate those Germans there is a feeling inside your guts that you hate them." (Eva Kor)

After her sister died Eva met Dr. Hans Munch, an ex-Nazi camp doctor. Eva was on a quest to find out if Dr. Mengele had left medical records of his experiments on the twins. Dr Munch was not able to help her in that way, but his kindness and respect for Eva as person, opened her eyes to his humanity. He had been acquitted because he had been identified as helping many Jewish people escape. She asked how he felt being free, and his response was: "All the memories of Auschwitz were such that I had no great joy... in my freedom." He told Eva it was a nightmare that he lived with. Eva said, "I was absolutely flabbergasted that Nazis had nightmares about Auschwitz."

Eva asked Dr. Munch to sign a document saying he witnessed the gassing of the Jews. She had him sign it before witnesses on the 50th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz. It was there a reporter commented to her, "We understood that you are forgiving Dr. Munch. Would you forgive Mengele?"

"So I thought about it and the feeling that I had the power to forgive that "god" of Auschwitz, Me, the little nothing, the little guinea pig. (It) made me feel very good inside. And so, if I forgive Dr. Mengele, I might as well forgive everybody... Forgiveness to me, means that whatever was done to me it is no longer causing me such pain that I cannot be the person that I want to be... After forgiving the Nazis, a huge burden of pain was lifted from my shoulders. Now I can go into the camp. I can touch the barbed wire and it's no longer going to kill me. So I am now a free human being." (Eva Kor, Forgiving Dr. Mengele)

On a recent concert tour a woman shared her testimony with me, and there was one part I found especially difficult. She told me she was raped at 8, pregnant at 10 or 12, and made to abort the baby. She became fairly promiscuous and eventually made a living as a prostitute for a couple years. All of this was obviously devastating in her life. Then she began to tell me how she married the man she loved, but because of their baggage from the past they had a lot of issues. He eventually began to molest their daughter. I can't remember if he was arrested or not, but they separated. However, the part that captured my attention, was that after he processed his issues in counseling and completed whatever other programs he was involved in, she forgave him, taking him back into the marriage and into their house. In fact, she was telling me this story right in front of him. It was completely beyond me! Could I ever trust someone to change that much??? Yet later, on the same tour, in one of the prisons I visited, a man approached me after my concert. The glory of God was on this man's countenance as he told me he was doing time for sexual molestation. Even as I read the previous sentence back there is a part of me that wonders how can the glory of God be on anyone who has ever sexually violated another human being? But when I saw that man's face filled with the beauty of God, I could not ignore that God had put His Spirit in him and blessed him. And if God has forgiven him, who am I to withold that which God has freely given?

I cannot even imagine how I would find the grace to forgive someone who molested a child of mine! And yet, here is the reality of our faith: nothing happens to us that has not passed through the body, soul, and spirit of Christ. Love for the Father brought Jesus to the cross. His blood is the liquid language of God's love for us. He who could have summoned angels to His side in a heartbeat, He who never sinned, submitted Himself to the Father as the single atoning sacrifice for the sin of mankind. He never once distanced Himself physically, emotionally, or spiritually. He was there, completely exposed in every way, naked in soul and body, forsaken by the Father. He had no covering, no defense, as He surrendered Himself to the justice of a holy God--on our behalf. At the cross something larger than our limited perception of justice happened--Grace. At the same time the Father's justice was satisfied in His Son's sacrifice, we were given favor we neither asked for nor deserved.

Even as I write this piece I am struggling with my perceived injustice of things around me and the need to forgive--to release, let go, lay aside--the people and situations I feel have contributed to my sense of injustice. From that much smaller, pettier place of my feelings I consider again the words of Jesus on the cross. Even though I can recognize intellectually, how small my issue is in comparison with the cross, these words are just impossible to me: "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing."

Who on earth can forgive like that? I can only come to this conclusion: forgiveness is a total act of worship. We can do it only when we fully connect to that extravagant love and grace Jesus has poured out upon us. It is the vertical exchange between us and God, that makes any horizontal exchange between us and others possible--especially when it comes to forgiving from the heart.

We who profess to be His are invited to pour out our lives as an offering to God, in response to that incredible grace we have received through Christ. To surrender our earthly rights, though we are sons and daughters of the Most High God, clothed in the righteousness of Christ--to lay down our lives for others, especially those who do not yet know Him. I believe this is part of offering our bodies as "living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God." (Romans 12:1)

Eva Kor chose to forgive and it brought healing to her soul and empowerment. But Jesus said, "Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be sons of your father in heaven." (Matthew 5:44) There is the act of forgiving, but then there is the larger place of living a life of love. When we live a life of love, forgiveness is part and parcel of our interaction with God and with others. It is a supernatural place where we connect daily to God's gift of grace through Christ to us, and are then able to give that gift to others. It is where the Kingdom of God can best be seen in and through us.

"Germany was a land in ruins, cities of ashes and rubble, but more terrifying still, minds and hearts of ashes. Just to cross the border was to feel the great weight that hung over the land.

It was at a church service in Munich that I saw him, the former S.S. man who had stood guard at the shower room door in the processing center at Ravensbruck. He was the first of our actual jailers that I had seen since that time. And suddenly it was all there--the roomful of mocking men, the heaps of clothing, Betsie's pain-blanched face.

He came up to me as the church was emptying, beaming and bowing. "How grateful I am for your message, Fraulein." he said. 'To think that, as you say, He has washed my sins away!"

His hand was thrust out to shake mine. And I, who had preached so often to the people in Bloemendaal the need to forgive, kept my hand at my side.

Even as the angry, vengeful thoughts boiled through me, I saw the sin of them. Jesus Christ had died for this man; was I going to ask for more? Lord Jesus, I prayed, forgive me and help me to forgive him.

I tried to smile, I struggled to raise my hand. I could not. I felt nothing, not the slightest spark of warmth or charity. And so again I breathed a silent prayer. Jesus, I cannot forgive him. Give me Your forgiveness.

As I took his hand the most incredible thing happened. From my shoulder along my arm and through my hand a current seemed to pass from me to him, while into my heart sprang a love for this stranger that almost overwhelmed me

And so I discovered that it is not on our forgiveness any more than on our goodness that the world's healing hinges, but on His. When he tells us to love our enemies, He gives, along with the command, the love itself." (The Hiding Place, Corrie Ten Boom)

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