I have been accused, on more than one occasion, of holding grudges for almost impossible amounts of time. My struggles to forgive (outside the confessional, at least) extend even to ancient blood feuds in which I played no part. I missed Oliver Cromwell and his reign of terror by hundreds of years, but if you would like me to enumerate the reasons why I loathe him, I will gladly oblige on behalf of my people.
Because of this propensity for remembering trespasses, both real and imagined, I am always amazed by those noble souls who forgive, even grudgingly, and move on. Even more amazing than those who forgive are those who manage to will the good for those who are actively harming them. How did St. Paul Miki and his companions forgive those who were actively putting them to death? How did St. Maximillian Kolbe forgive the soldier who executed him and so many of his confreres? How did the abbot at the Monastery of Notre Dame De Atlas write a letter forgiving his murderer before he was even taken hostage? Where does one find the strength to imitate our Lord as He cried out from the Cross, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do”? Peter’s witness in the Gospel today tells us something important about how we can find the strength to forgive. Even after living his entire life under a brutal, foreign regime that stripped people of their dignity and subjugated their right to practice their religion and worship their God, he stands before the crowd and declares that “God shows no partiality” and that anyone of any nation who seeks the Lord in truth can be in a relationship with Him. There most definitely would have been people present in the crowd who wanted no part in this message. The early centuries of Christianity were spent sorting out conflicts between the Jews and Gentiles who wanted to live as disciples of Christ. Perhaps Peter would not have spoken this way before Pentecost, but now, filled with the Holy Spirit, his evangelical zeal overcomes the divisions that had defined his life until that point. He could now say with his former enemy, current friend, and intellectual sparring partner, St. Paul, that “in Christ there is neither Jew nor Greek, neither slave nor free, neither male nor female” but that we are all one in Christ Jesus. A life filled with the Spirit shatters Peter’s worldview, allows him to step outside seeing the world through the lens of power struggles, and instead makes sharing the Gospel his one and only priority. The Abbot mentioned earlier, Dom Christian de Cherge, said something very similar when he recognized his impending death approaching. In writing to the unknown man who would martyr him, he said, “And also you, my last-minute friend, who will not have known what you were doing: Yes, I want this THANK YOU and this GOODBYE to be a ‘GOD BLESS’ for you, too, because in God's face I see yours. May we meet again as happy thieves in Paradise, if it please God, the Father of us both.” To be prepared to forgive such a trespass against one’s own life before it even happens is undoubtedly a fruit of the Holy Spirit. St. Peter throwing the message of the Gospel indiscriminately to those who had hated him and those whom he had previously hated is surely a fruit of the Holy Spirit. If we are to find the same forgiveness, peace, and unity, we have to turn to the same Spirit, for we do not have the strength to forgive in this manner on our own. As the season of Easter draws to an end, and we await the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, we should pray for the fullness of the gifts of the Spirit to dwell within us. It is the only way to find unity and forgiveness in a world that struggles to forgive and heal. Prayers always, Fr. McC