I’m sorry. Two words. So simple, yet so hard to say. Forgive me. Two more words. Just as hard to say. It’s so easy to look at the Bible, and read verse after verse of scripture and think, “how can I live up to this? How can I be like Moses? How can I be like Elijah? How can I be like the Apostles? How can I be like Jesus? How can I love and forgive those who wrong me? How can I be humble enough and seek forgiveness?”
We have these 10 commandments, the Law, and then Jesus simplified it – Love God, and Love one another. But we ask, “How? How, in the world we live in can we do this?” With all the temptation, all the anger, all the greed, all the deceit. All the wars, and all the hate. We often ask ourselves, ‘How can we love each other and not sin? And when I fail to love God, and I fail to love others, and I only look out after myself – how can I humble myself and seek forgiveness?’
And so we often stay locked up in pride. These are the questions we deal with daily. We see what is in scripture, we hear it. We hear the priest’s homilies on what we should do. We read all kinds of other books, reflections and meditations on how to be better.
But it’s still tough. In this world we live in, to be a good Catholic, one that is faithful, obedient, humble, and loving towards all – it is extremely tough. We get hardened by this world.
We want to do what makes us happy, and we want it now. I was reading a meditation yesterday by Dorothy Day, where years ago she referenced a cartoon in the New Yorker newspaper where a child says, “Do I have to do what I want to do today?”
Dorothy continued to write, reflecting on her current time in life where she reached a point where she wanted to obey. She said, “I was tired of following the devices and desires of my own heart, of doing what I wanted to do, what my desires told me I wanted to do, which always seemed to lead me astray.”
This statement struck me like a lightning bolt, deep in my soul. So much so, that I had a reflection written for today that I am completely revamping. Because this thought by Dorothy Day resonates with us today more than ever. And it speaks through the readings today. And through this revelation comes those two simple words that are so hard to say.
I was tired of following the devices and desires of my own heart. How profound that is. We think we know what makes us happy. We have desires for certain things, things that we know is wrong, yet we continue to do them anyway. We’re human. But at those times in our lives, those life changing moments, following and doing those things that we think makes us happy is exhausting. It really is.
We think it feels good. Engaging in an addiction. Making a sarcastic or rude comment towards someone we don’t like, thinking that’ll get ‘em, thinking that will make ourselves feel better… Gossiping and lying. Greed. Gluttony. Envy. Lust. Vanity and Pride. And wrath.
All the things that make us human. All the things that we think make us feel better, but leave us feeling empty. And so we seek more of it. It’s like chasing after the end of the rainbow – you never get there. Enough is never enough. After a while, it becomes exhausting to live this way.
I look at the readings today. Three stories centering on this concept.
King David. He’s filled with lust, envy, deceit and pride. He tried to cover up his mistakes with more deceit, and lies, and his sins snowball and grow. It must have been exhausting to live this life and continue to try to cover this up.
St. Paul. Preaching to the masses. Preaching Christ’s message, though also telling his own story. A story of conversion from a sinner, one filled with wrath, vanity and pride. The more Christians he pursued and persecuted, the more anger and hate filled his heart – surely this was exhausting.
The sinful woman. Presumably a prostitute. Or perhaps she cheated on her husband. Or both. Doing what she does pays the bills, but at what price? Perhaps it’s love she’s after, perhaps it’s greed in the money she earns, or the envy of others. Perhaps there’s lust. She wants to stop, but she’s too prideful. She’s exhausted.
We follow the devices and desires of our hearts, which lead us astray. We know this, but we keep doing it. It becomes exhausting to live life according to our desires. Do we have to do what we want to do today?
It’s possible King David woke up saying that, the day that Nathan came knocking on his door.
Maybe Paul was thinking that the day that Jesus knocked him down by a blinding light.
Perhaps the woman woke up praying that the day Jesus came to her city.
Maybe you woke up thinking that today?
How do we live with the decisions we make, the desires in our hearts, the vices we succumb to? We do what David, and Paul, and the woman did – we bow down, we kneel, and we ask for forgiveness. We say, ‘I’m sorry.’ With our full heart, and full sorrow for our sins, we humbly kneel before God, before His priest in persona Christi. Where two or more are gathered, Christ is there. This is why it’s necessary to confess your sins to a priest, there is that personal contact, that relationship, that connection. And he is the conduit of Christ’s grace through the Sacrament of Reconciliation. It’s cleansing. It’s enlightening. It’s sanctifying.
It helps us to not do what we want to do, but to do what we ought to do. God shows us today in these readings that we are neither too great nor too small to seek His forgiveness. And we are neither too great, or too small to be forgiven. And the greater the sinner, the greater God’s enjoyment when that sinner tells Him they’re sorry.
Perhaps we wake up tomorrow, and not ask “Do I have to do what I want to do today?” But rather, with humility, we say, “I get to say I’m sorry today. I get to be forgiven. I’m sorry Lord, for what I have done. Please forgive me.”
