God's ways are not our ways

“The word of the Lord came to me: Son of man, you live in the midst of a rebellious house; they have eyes to see but do not see, and ears to hear but do not hear, for they are a rebellious house.” (Ezekiel 12:1-12)

These words remind me of the sin of racism in our country.  For centuries many of us have denied the humanity of Black Americans, as well as many other races and cultures that differ from our own.  We choose not to see African Americans as children of God or to hear their cries of pain and frustration.  For the most part, we “White” Americans haven’t had to deal with the issue of race because it hasn’t affected our lives.  We haven’t had to be mindful about how our actions might destroy our life or the lives of our family. 

It’s somewhat heartening that so many White Americans are now ‘seeing’ and ‘hearing’ how race impacts and often limits people of color’s lives and opportunities.   I wonder why the death of George Floyd seems to be the most powerful impetus of change.  After all, there have been many other needless deaths of people of color allegedly attributed to racism over many years.  I just don’t know the answer.  But I do know that I’m grateful that a “rebellious people” can now see and hear. 

Along with the awakening of many of us to our own sins of racism, there seems also to be a misguided call for retribution and even retaliation.  Neither retribution nor retaliation bring about change.  Forgiveness does. 

The gospel of Matthew gives a harsh look at what should be the least harsh subject, forgiveness.  It brings up the difficulties in forgiveness; that it can be hard to do.  We’re supposed to forgive others “seven times seventy times” like God forgives us, but we’re still human and have human emotions and motivations. (Matthew 18:21–19:1)

The servant in the Gospel owed a huge debt, impossible to repay in an instant.  His master was justified in turning him over to the authorities, but the servant begged for more time, swore he’d pay the debt when he was able, and the master forgave him the debt.  This man must’ve been enormously relieved and quite happy.  I’m sure this problem had been hanging over his head, clouding all his activities, and was the motivating factor in most of his decisions.  But now he was frantic to get the money to his master and he dunned people who owed him money.  When his fellow servant begged for more time (as he himself had recently) this man had no mercy.  His own master gave him more time, but he sent his fellow servant to the authorities for the return of his money.  When the master learned that his lesson of mercy didn’t continue, he rescinded it. Why should he extend mercy to someone who was not willing to do the same?

I remember an episode of 60 Minutes when they interviewed a mob hit man.  He’d killed at least twenty people in cold blood, but he kept up his Catholic faith.  The interviewer asked him how he could reconcile that. The hit man said he went to confession and confessed his mob activities.  He said his penance was ten Hail Marys, ten Our Fathers, and don’t do it again.  He got jail time too, reduced because he was an informant.  And he said he hadn’t done it since and had no plans to do it again.  I think that penance sounds a little light, but then am I like the servant in the Gospel?  I haven’t murdered one person, let alone twenty plus, but if I had, wouldn’t I hope for forgiveness?  And being given it, should I resent anyone else being given forgiveness?

Rather than being resentful or judgmental about the mob man’s forgiveness, and perhaps blocking our own possibility of forgiveness, we should feel heartened and hopeful that our own lesser transgressions might be forgiven as well.

May God be with us and may we remember “God’s ways are not our ways” (Isaiah 55:89) as we strive to create a country that sees and hears and values each one of us as a Child of God.