Guilt & Forgiveness

Let’s talk about guilt and forgiveness. And, no, I’m not talking about trivial guilt – from say eating meat on Fridays in Lent. Nor am I referring to petty guilt, which may be something along the lines of telling a white lie and then getting called out. I mean real, deep-seated, life-strangling guilt, the kind in which many people find themselves wallowing seemingly forever.

And here’s what I mean: I meet people and I know from my own experience that most people have a very difficult time actually believing that God can truly forgive them, remove their guilt and restore them. I mean, sure, most people hear forgiveness pronounced upon them, and, when pressed, can articulate a perfectly coherent Christian theology of forgiveness. And that’s to be commended; it means they have a proper understanding of their own capacity to stray. But the better question, better even than recognising our own shortcomings, is to ask: do we really know the extent of God’s mercy? For divine mercy goes right to the core of God’s nature and what it means to live as an heir of the Kingdom?

One more distinction is in order. Some guilt, the kind that leads us to repentance, that is, re-fixing our gaze on God, can be a motivator to holiness, and this is a good and holy thing. ‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand’, declareth the Scriptures.

However, another kind of guilt, the type I’m seeking to expose now, can be really deadly, downright vexing and a nasty stumbling block to a fruitful relationship with our Lord. And this latter type of guilt, the kind that haunts us in the night, has no place in the Christian worldview, period.

What is it from your past that you simply can’t let go? What is the one thing you can’t even stand to ponder, the one thing that is so disgusting you’re ashamed to recall? Is it a lie you told? Is it a sexual sin that won’t go away? Is it a financial crime? Is your guilt from a broken marriage, a missed opportunity or an estranged relationship?

Maybe your guilt comes not from your distant past, when perhaps you knew not the love of God, but from a feeling of unworthiness resulting from some regrettable recent act, one you may have never seen coming. Consider St. Peter, who, though he had proclaimed Jesus as the Christ and followed Him, turns from Him and denies Him – not once, but three times. In that moment, upon the very crowing of the cock, St. Matthew’s passion tells us that St. Peter knew his guilt, ‘and he went out and wept bitterly’ (Matthew 26-27).

But don’t miss the reality: St. Peter was restored and given new life, one where weeping dwelleth not! Brothers and sisters, we too are followers of Christ. We are Christians; we bear on our brow the sign of Him who died for us. Through the Sacrament of holy baptism we are buried with Christ and are raised to new life. In a life sustained through the Holy Mysteries, most especially the Sacrament of the Altar, we are nourished and renewed. In a word, God has, through His Cross and Resurrection, forgiven us. And, through the ongoing ministry of the Church, God is forgiving us still; he has put away our guilt. St. Paul puts it this way: ‘If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation’. The Psalmist says the same thing: 'As far as the east is from the west, so far does God remove our transgressions from us'.

Is some part of you weeping bitterly on this Monday in Holy Week? If your soul is filled with lament, then this week is yours for the taking. Come once more and drink deeply from the mystery of our redemption, which is Holy Week writ large. Holy Week is a one-way street, for, yea verily, 'soon the night of weeping shall be the morn of song'.

And while you’re at it, here’s a guilty pleasure you’ll most assuredly enjoy.

Holy Week Shake

Ingredients

3 scoops Haagen-Dazs chocolate ice cream
¼ cup half and half
¼ cup whole milk
3.5 oz. of Frangelico hazelnut liqueur
semi-sweet chocolate bar for shaving.

Instructions

Place all ingredients in a blender and pulse for a few seconds. The ice cream should be lumpy, so don’t over-blend. Serve in a low ball with shaved (use a vegetable peeler) semi-sweet chocolate on top.