--“Always forgive your enemies - nothing annoys them so much.” Oscar Wilde
Off the top of my head, my sins include assault and battery, petty theft, animal cruelty, and defamation of character.
I confess.
On my elementary school playground, I once kicked a kid on as hard as I could. I pretended that I was going for the soccer ball, but my aim went directly at a rival’s shinbone. To my credit, I did feel a pang of guilt as my adversary hopped on one foot for a while.
Another time, I stole some dimes and quarters from the “Poor Box” my father placed on top of the black-and-white television set. Dad instructed the family to leave spare change there so we might help those who had even less than we did. Dad was like that: caring for others even at the expense of his own family. I liked the let’s-help-the-poor idea, but I may have wanted some new baseball cards. Besides, my rationalization considered our family as poor as any other I knew.
Yet another time, I spanked our dog because he was a bad dog and messed on the floor. The thought of that cowering pooch never left me and never will. He could not know the reason for such punishment, for he was a gentle, innocent creature, whose loyalty knew no limits. I wish that his sweet soul would forgive me even now.
On many occasions during my criminal youth, I told lies. I slandered, gossiped, and inflated all truth beyond recognition. Iago could not surpass me in a dissembler contest. Had I not stopped such deplorable behavior, I would have risen beyond the rank of pathological liar and found an enriching job among the captains of commerce, maybe even a seat in the United States Congress.
In fact, I can now safely put a check mark next to each of the Seven Deadly Sins, pride leading the way. I cannot be proud of my pride because it wants to strut and bellow over humility’s bowed head. It is a bad winner and an even worse loser.
If I were to make a list of all the rotten things I have done (and still do), I might fill a volume as lengthy as the manual on how to build a Boeing 747. Okay, I am a stinker. I accept that shameful role. But this old coot yearns for forgiveness. "Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us…” Hard cheese, isn’t it?
However, even though I have grown out of my delinquent youth, I retain those traits that once coaxed me to make prank phone calls and call people vile names.
This poser always brings me to forgiveness, the all-purpose cleanser of sin and hatred. “To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you,” wrote Lewis Smedes. Thank you for the thought, Lewis, but I am having a tough time breaking out of prison. For a full explanation of this human circumstance read John Donne’s Holy Sonnet “Batter my Heart.” Here, I will spoon-feed it to you:
Batter my heart, three-person'd God, for you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurp'd town to another due,
Labor to admit you, but oh, to no end;
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captiv'd, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you, and would be lov'd fain,
But am betroth'd unto your enemy;
Divorce me, untie or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.