Skip to main content

Forgive us our trespasses...

I've just had a week's holiday, and holidays always involve a stack of (mostly trashy) books.  After the latest highly enjoyable but pretty brainless Dan Brown novel, I started on 'The Storyteller' by Jodi Picoult.  It's about the Holocaust, so it's pretty grim, and includes a long narrative from the point of view of the heroine's Jewish grandmother, a survivor of Auschwitz.  It was the ending of the novel, set in the present day, which really shocked me, however - SPOILER ALERT - if you want to read this novel, look away now.

The novel's present day heroine, Sage, befriends Josef, a retired German teacher in his 90s.  Josef is a a much-loved local character who has served his community well and has many friends.  Knowing that Sage is from a Jewish family, Josef tells her his terrible secret - during the war, he was a member of the SS who served in Auschwitz.  He does not feel that he deserves the long life he has had and wants Sage to help him die.

In the end (and it's a very long book), after much agonising, Sage decides that she will help him die, and bakes him a bread roll containing poison.  Josef gratefully eats the bread, sinks to the floor in convulsions, and as he is dying Sage leans over and says, loudly and clearly, 'Josef, I will never, ever forgive you.'

This man had taken part in the worst, most barbaric and contemptible episode in human history, when an entire people group was systematically persecuted, imprisoned and then either killed or worked to death.  There is no possible way of defending the actions of those who participated in the Holocaust - they were acts of profound evil.  The point is also made in the book that it is not possible for someone to forgive a sin which was not done to them.  How can Sage forgive a crime in place of the victim?

There has to be the possibility that someone can forgive, however.  For Sage to withhold forgiveness as she watches another human being die seems to me to be profoundly barbaric in itself.  She is denying Josef's humanity in the same way he denied the humanity of the Jewish people he killed.  And she is hardly a shining example of moral rectitude herself, having spent much of the book in a relationship with a married man.  Josef's sins are many, but she has also sinned.  At what point does someone become irredeemable?  How many sins must we commit before we move out of the reach of God's mercy?

But perhaps I am being unfair on Sage.  After all, she is an atheist, and all she has to offer is human forgiveness.  Perhaps that is too much to ask of anyone.  When I forgive those who have wronged me, I offer them the forgiveness of God, because I know I have already received God's mercy.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Halloween

It's that magical time of year again - that one night when my small neighbours knock on my door asking for sweeties.  This year, I'm properly prepared: I have two pumpkins (I wanted five, but decided to be thrifty), a big tub of sweets and a tube of 100 glow sticks.  The sweets are my concession to popular demand; the glow sticks are an attempt to represent light in darkness (a symbolism which will doubtless be lost on the kids).  I'm seeing the pumpkin as my main opportunity to communicate something of my Christian faith to my neighbours. One year, while I was at theological college, Halloween fell on a Sunday.  The new housing estate church I was assigned to met in a church hall on Sunday afternoons and many of the congregation were unaccompanied children.  I googled 'Christian pumpkin carvings' and guess what - there are a lot of ideas out there, America being a country which is big on Halloween and big on Christianity too.  I decided to carve a simple f...

Only connect

Last year on Ash Wednesday I attended an ashing service at St Paul's Cathedral.  The service focused on confessing our sins and asking God's forgiveness.  During the service a berobed priest made the sign of the cross in ash on my forehead.  I thought this was pretty cool and refused my husband's request that I rub it off for the train journey home.  Then we ran into an old work colleague of mine and I felt rather stupid. Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent, is all about sin and repentance - 'sackcloth and ashes' and all that.  But I wonder how many people in the UK today identify with the idea that they are sinners in need of forgiveness?  My final year dissertation at theological college focused on the dilemma of how to call to repentance people who do not think they have anything of which to repent.  I certainly didn't think of myself as a sinner when I first started exploring Christianity.  I knew I wasn't perfect, but hey, who is? I have hea...

Broken at the altar

A new drama series by Jimmy McGovern finished a couple of weeks ago on the BBC. Broken  tells the story of Roman Catholic priest Father Michael Kerrigan, a broken person ministering to other broken people in an unnamed northern city. It's still available on BBC iPlayer and I would encourage you to watch it - only be prepared for a few grim hours. I'll try to avoid spoilers here. Michael has a problem: whenever he celebrates Mass (which I think in the Roman Catholic Church is every day), he has flashbacks. At the moment of consecration - the point at which, Catholics believe, the bread and wine physically become for us the body and blood of Christ - he remembers every shameful thing he's ever done, and every shameful thing that has been done to him. We see his mother screaming at him that he's a dirty, filthy little boy; young women crying because he has treated them badly; mistakes he has made as a priest; people he has let down. His voice falters and he struggles ...