Our final question asks us to consider the nature of religious life. The specific inquiry is: Does the fact that forgiveness is freely given to those who ask for it mean that offenses are insignificant and there is no real emotional impact on the offender?
As we will see, that question is so old, it is actually asked in Christian Scripture. We have already noted that David’s sins, although forgiven, were profoundly impactful on him and others, of course. To varying degrees this is the case for every religious adherent who fails to live up to the standards of their faith or their own conscience.
To understand this, we must briefly examine the nature of religious life. If the life of a faithful adherent is merely a contract by which they perform religious duties and get benefits, then we might conclude that once forgiven their failures have no consequences. If, however, the religious life is an expression of an intimate relationship, then sin represents a breach of trust and love between two persons, as it were. And that always impacts both parties.
The religious life is fundamentally a relationship. Like all relationships it includes a tacit or explicit set of expectations for behavior, but those “rules” serve the deeper reality of communion in love. This is the case both for theistic and pantheist traditions in as much as both types of believers seek union with a Divine or ultimate reality that is, in this life at least, distinct or separated from them in some way. This relationship can be deeply personal. In fact, Hebrew and Christian Scripture speak of it as a marriage or union between a child and parent.
This is significant because when forgiveness or restoration is granted in a relationship both parties are affected, sometimes profoundly. In this way, religious forgiveness is much different than a legal transaction. For example, if a police officer lets a speeder off with a warning, the driver may be relieved but his heart is not saddened by his failure to honor the City Council to whom she has pledged her life.
As stated at the onset of this affidavit my focus is on Christian teaching, but my work in ministry requires some familiarity with other faith traditions. Although the different means for forgiveness that Faith teach are of great importance, the idea that God, or Allah, Vishnu or Krishna is more than simply a judge administering punishment is not unique to Christianity. It can be seen, for example, in names for the divine being. Every Surah (chapter) but one in the Qur’an begins with the divine name “The Exceedingly Compassionate One”, a title which goes beyond the formal role of supreme adjudicator. Eastern traditions include expressions like “He Who Nourishes all Creatures”, and “One Who Loves his Devotees.”
Returning to my own tradition, in one of the most famous stories about him, Jesus interrupted an angry crowd that was about to stone a woman caught in adultery by making the mob an offer. “He who is without sin,” he said, “may cast the first stone.” One by one they walked away, until Jesus was left with the woman. In the most superficial and reluctant way they had all “forgiven” her. Jesus, however, stood near her and said, “Neither do I condemn you. Go and from now on sin no more. (John 8).”
The woman clearly had no relationship with the mob and no obligation to heed their implied call to righteousness, despite their forced mercy. Their only “authority” was force and threat. They were literally only a Judge to her. Her experience of forgiveness from Jesus, however, was intensely personal. Jesus showed up to save her. He stood next to her. He took her side in “court” and stopped her execution. Then he forgave her and called her to a different life. He didn’t simply become a kind Judge who acquitted her. He became her Savior.
This illuminates our question. What would we think if her take-away from Jesus’ kindness was that her past and future sins are no big deal because God was not going to throw any stones? If that is what she thought, we could all likely agree that she had missed the whole point of her rescue.
Another story about a judgmental crowd reveals still more about forgiveness and the relationship it creates. Jesus was the guest of honor at a Pharisee’s home when a woman identified only as a “sinner” rushed in looking for him. The label “sinner” was a kind of demographic term some religious leaders of the day used to speak of the morally compromised and irreligious. This sinner began weeping and anointing Jesus feet with precious oil and her tears. The guests were scandalized and the host chastised Jesus for letting her touch him.
Jesus, however, was unashamed of her attention. In the ancient world hospitality was a sacred social art that included a set of customs designed to welcome guests. One of the basic courtesies was to provide a servant or family member to wash the dust off guests’ sandaled feet upon arriving.
Jesus reminded his host that no one had washed his feet until this “sinner” had the love and humility to honor him with that basic recognition and comfort. Then he made a comment that helps us answer our question.
I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven—for she loved much. But he who is forgiven little, loves little.
Luke 7.47
Forgiveness makes the truly contrite love the forgiver. People are sorrowful when they fail those they love, even if they are forgiven. In that way, even forgiven sin breaks the sinner’s heart. For the penitent, sinning is more than merely breaking a rule. Sin betrays a beloved friend. And that hurts even when the friend forgives us. Indeed, forgiveness has a sweet sharpness to it that touches the forgiven soul with a kind of healing sadness.
We began by noting that this question is so old that the Christian Scriptures actually ask it. As we have already seen, virtually all religious traditions understand humans to be somehow broken and separated from the Divine by ignorance or sin or some other malady. The author of the New Testament book of Romans recognizes this, and along with the rest of Christian Scripture teaches that the only way to restore our relationship with God is to be forgiven by him, for no other reason than his loving mercy.
This free benevolence or kindness is called “grace” or “compassion” or “mercy” by the world’s religions and has a home in virtually all faiths. That reality is at the center of Christianity’s message of grace, which teaches that forgiveness is possible because Christ suffered the judgment that was due to sinners when he was crucified.
With that in mind, Paul pre-emptively asked our question: “What shall we say, then? Shall we go on sinning so that grace may abound?” (Romans 6.1-2) In other words, “Does the fact that forgiveness is freely given to those who ask for it mean that offenses are insignificant and there is no real emotional impact on the offender. He answered with, “May it never be!” because he understood that the nature of forgiveness required loving sacrifice in the context of intimate relationship.
In my pastoral experience as well as my own spiritual journey, forgiveness is not an emotionless transaction that turns our transgressions into vapors that never happened. Forgiveness comes to people by the restoration of a kind and loving friend, and God.
Even without a central act of atonement like the Gospels depict, forgiveness requires the forgiver (God, or a spouse, or friend) to pay the price by absorbing the offence without restoration. One might experience relief or joy upon their pardon, but they would likely never say that their sin cost them nothing.
Finally, moving away from Bible stories and theological terms, we can learn the same thing from the spouse who is forgiven for adultery. I’ve been privileged to witness that sweet and difficult scene more than once. And I have never heard the forgiven speak as if forgiveness erased their sorrow for the wound they caused and somehow minimized their unfaithfulness. If it did, we would rightly conclude that they do not understand what they have done.
For these reasons, we cannot conclude that forgiveness erases the significance or emotional impact of sin on a believing, but imperfect, man or woman of faith.
