Author: admin

A former prisoner of a Nazi concentration camp was visiting a friend who had shared the ordeal with him. ‘Have you forgiven the Nazis?’ he asked his friend.

‘Yes’, came the reply.

‘Well, I haven’t. I am still consumed with hatred for them.’

‘In that case,’ said the friend gently, ‘they still have you in prison.’

“He that cannot forgive others, breaks the bridge over which he himself must pass… for everyone has need to be forgiven,” wrote George Herbert (1593–1633).

Forgiveness flows at the heart of human life; without it a human being becomes a cesspool of bitterness. Since it is central to our life, nothing is more important than to look into it as deeply as we can.

Forgiveness is a ‘nice’ word, in the sense that just about everyone would be pleased to be described as forgiving.

That should be enough to put us on the alert; we can suspect straight away that many vicious attitudes have attempted to dress up like it.

Someone does me harm – it could be unknowingly. I lack the courage simply to point it out.

Over the weeks (or years) I become full of silent anger. But I am now more afraid than ever to point out the wrong because anger tends to be explosive, and I am afraid of explosions.

Instead, I swallow it, ‘spiritualise’ it and tell myself that I have forgiven him or her.

Of course, I have not.

Instead, I have swallowed a dose of poison that will kill my relationship with that person. Fear has been masquerading as forgiveness.

Then there is the person who keeps count; there is the person who claims to forgive but not forget; the person who is always on the lookout for something to forgive; and a host of others.

All these forms of forgiveness are counterfeit.

The mark of real forgiveness is a lively awareness that I am in need of forgiveness myself.

That is what is missing in the counterfeit forms.

“Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who sin against us.”

We are set free to forgive others in an uncomplicated way when we accept that our own books are not balanced either – that nobody’s books are balanced, that every human being needs another chance, and another: “seventy times seven”; in other words, endlessly.

In his autobiography, Long Walk to Freedom, Nelson Mandela recounts an occasion when he was called to the main office of the prison on Robben Island.

General Steyn was visiting the island and wanted to know from Mandela if the prisoners had any complaints.

Mandela had been chosen by the prisoners as their spokesman.

The officer in charge of the prison, a man named Colonel Piet Badenhorst, was also present. Badenhorst was equally feared and hated by the prisoners.

In a calm, but forceful and truthful manner, Mandela informed the visitor about the chief complaints of the prisoners. He did so without bitterness or recrimination.

The general duly took note of what Mandela had to say, which amounted to a damning indictment of Badenhorst’s regime.

The following day Badenhorst went to Mandela and said, “ I am leaving the island. I just want to wish you people good luck.“

The remark left Mandela dumbfounded, and he thought about the incident for a long time afterwards.

Badenhorst had perhaps been the most callous and barbaric commanding officer they had had on the island. But the incident showed that there was another side to his nature.

Mandela concludes, ‘it goes to show that even the most seemingly cold-blooded have a core of decency, and that if their hearts are touched, they are capable of changing.‘

‘ Am I my brother’s keeper ‘, Cain responded to God’s inquiry about Abel, and the same reasoning has been, and still is used to this day; we call it ‘turning a blind eye ‘. On such occasions, it is astounding how noisy silence is!

The Christian response is, as St Paul exclaims, “ to speak the truth in love “ (Eph. 4:15)

Or, with equal acclamation, St Paul says in our second reading, “love is the one thing that cannot hurt your neighbour.” (Rms. 13:10)

Jesus is even more dramatic, “ love one another as I have loved you “ (Jn. 13:34)

Nelson Mandela was a South African anti-apartheid activist and politician. He was the country’s first black head of state and the first elected in a fully representative democratic election.

Nelson Mandela spent 27 years in prison.

Before that he was on the run for several years.

Of the time he was on the run he wrote later,* ‘ I had to separate myself from my wife and children. I had to say goodbye to the good old days when, at the end of a strenuous day at the office, I could look forward to joining my family at the dinner table.

Instead, I had to take up the life of a man hunted continuously by the police, living separated from those who are closest to me, facing continually the hazards of detection and arrest. This was a life infinitely more difficult than serving a prison sentence.’

*(Long Walk to Freedom is an autobiography by South African President Nelson Mandela, and first published in 1994.)

What was it that drove Nelson Mandela to make such a sacrifice? It was his love for his country. This was the ‘cross’ he carried because of his love for his people.

For a number, religion is seen as a crutch, something to lean on in times of weakness and infirmity, however something to forget in times of well-being.

While it is true that religion is a support – like a crutch, perhaps also religion is like a pair of wings, encouraging and enabling us to fly – and of course flying necessitates a leaving behind the secure perch I am resident on.

Today’s Gospel, (Mt. 16: 21 -27) has the challenge from Jesus to “take up your cross.”

Have you considered that ‘taking up your cross ‘may not be about adding more weight, rather it is about growing wings and learning how to fly!

You may like to take some flying lessons from St. Joseph of Cupertino, the patron saint of aviators!

Ps. Feel quite free to take someone else with you!