17. Sin and Forgiveness; the Centurion's Faith

Monday 18 May.  8:45 a.m.  Sunny, low clouds.  We are reminded again of Southern California, though cooler (and remembering that So. California does not have winters like the winters here!).

To follow up on the Karl Rahner idea re America.  What is it that America is?  What will it consciously accept, what reject?  And how will it do it?  What is the one limited good?  As respects culture, it was decided at some point we were European.  Is that changing now?  Can it change successfully?

10:40 a.m.  Same day, clouds cleared, cool, sunny (warm in sun, cool in shade).

Sin and Forgiveness.  Thinking yesterday about sin: that Jesus died on the cross for all sin.  I notice that in the Agnus Dei, the word is "sins."  In the Gloria the word used is "sin."  I have usually thought of this idea in terms of Jesus dying for all sins, mine included; and there is some temptation to think that my sins, being committed in full knowledge of what Jesus has done for me are the worst of all.  When, however, I think of Jesus taking away the sin of the world, there is a different perspective, that of Jesus actually changing people forever. 

Jesus brought into existence the idea of a human being no longer with sin, "the resurrection of the dead."  Before the Resurrection/Redemption, sin still existed and people could not really change the way they were.  All the way back to Adam something crept in to make us spoil our relationship with God, or so it seems is the message of the Old Testament, with its constant references to God's steadfast love and the Jews' continuing inclination to turn away from God, not to trust Him and to turn to the local gods.  (It is easy to see how our times parallel the OT times, for we are constantly turning away from reliance on the one, true God [even to such a lesser degree of honoring each other and treating one another with dignity, love, respect] and turning to the current idols, which are not Baal and the sacred poles and golden calves, but cars and jobs and money and, in my case, all the little things I like to buy.  I wonder, did the Israelites feel the same empty sense of their things as I do in mine?  Or did they ignore their feelings and pretend their needs were satisfied?)

In the long run it is just as hard to understand the Redemption whether the word is sins or sin.  (Of course it is both, for if all sin is gone, then sins fall as well.)  In one case ("sins") I tend to doubt and not understand how God can forgive me, in the other case ("sin") it is hard to understand how and why, if we are changed, we still behave the same.  Perhaps, however, we are slowly changing, evolving; things that used to be commonplace, torture and cruelty everywhere, slavery, etc., are gradually leaving our human nature, but then, along comes Bosnia-Hercnegovia/Sarajevo.

I have often wondered if I really believe I forgive other's trespasses (as I believe I do).  The reason I wonder is that I find it hard to believe God can forgive me so freely.  I think I forgive freely; yet maybe I hold back.  Otherwise, why would I feel so tentative about God's forgiveness?  Perhaps if someone knew me, he or she would believe I forgave, whereas if he or she didn't know me very well, he or she might say, why I can't believe that he'll forgive so easily!  Thus, if I knew God better, I might find it easier to believe in his forgiveness.

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The Centurion's Faith.  I like to think my faith is strong, but I was thinking this morning of the centurion.  Such a great story!  (Perhaps one of my top ten soundbites is "Lord I am not worthy . . ..")  It is hard to think of myself as the centurion, able to go to Jesus and say, "Say the word and she will be healed."  I suppose if someone were pointed out to me, "That's Jesus!" I could say it, but how would I know, and wouldn't I be afraid of approaching him?

Faith moves mountains.  I do not know if St. Paul is talking figuratively or not, but, while I believe I have faith, it is more in the nature of hope, as in I hope my faith will move mountains.

 What causes my doubts?  Is it the doubt of modern man?  In pre-modern times, people as a rule were more superstitious than now and were more likely to believe in miracles or magic.  Today, we are skeptics and even though I profess to believe in miracles and in the hand of God, I haven't really experienced it (though sometimes I feel it in small things: birds singing, a sunny day, the wind . . .).

 The point, I suppose is that I find my faith a weak imitation of the centurion's.  And it is really that faith that I need to die with, for only when I take that faith in as my own (what do I ever take and believe in as my own?) will I be willing to die in Christ (and if I am willing to die in Christ, or, I hope to say, when I am willing to die in Christ, then I will be willing to live in Christ!  So I pray in mass to be like the centurion, and to really believe.

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I've forgotten another entry I wanted to make regarding all the information there is these days.  Even in Joyce's times, the amount of books, etc. to learn, study was limited, and I suspect was more or less limited to classics (e.g., novels weren't too much more than 100 years old).  So much is published today that it is hard to know where to start.  All the old stuff is around, but there are hundreds of times as much new stuff as well.  How are we supposed to handle this?  No one will ever be able to manage it, and of course it will only get worse.  Will life be ruled by specialists?  And then will we continue not only to analyze but to create as well.  Will we be overburdened by it all, how to handle it?   Just ignore it?

I don't think I put it in my book (autobiography), but I'm sure one of the reasons I did not become an English professor is that I wasn't smart enough!

Same day.  4:30 p.m.  Returned from walk to travel agent and bank (as well as hardware store, where I set off the alarm going into the shop with my bottle of Listerine green).  It was cool up here, but when I got into town, it was hot.  The town center is in the low spot of the hills surrounding it.  It is much cooler, breezier here on top.  Made me think that Italian towns might be on hilltops not just for defensive reasons, but for the cooler airs as well.  I imagine it gets very hot in the summer!

Same.  7 p.m.  Thomas takes pleasure in calling me, "Dad."

I told Cathy (she laughed): I grew up with Ozzie and Harriet.  Thomas is living it.