"FATHER, FORGIVE THEM

FOR THEY DO NOT KNOW

WHAT THEY ARE DOING."

“Father, forgive them
for they do not
know what they are doing.”

“Father,
forgive them
for they do not know
what they are doing.”

“Father...”
The first word
you spoke from the cross was “Father.”
That’s the first word
so many of us
spoke as children.

“Father…”
How do I feel about my father,
my real-life father,
the man who planted the seed
in the earth - my mother?
How do I really feel about him?

Psychologists tell us
that many of us spend our whole lives
fighting authorities,
fighting husbands,
fighting men,
while we’re really fighting our fathers.
They tell us
that many of us spend our whole lives
loving,
playing countless games,
with others,
with husbands,
with lovers,
while we’re really trying
to reach out and touch
and be touched by our fathers.

“Forgive...”
the next word you spoke
from the cross, Jesus, was “forgive.”

Some of us go through life
unable to forgive that man,
our father.
“I’ll never forgive my father
for what he did to me,
for what he did to my mother.
He never was home enough.
He never loved enough.
He loved my sister more.”

Father, forgive him
for he did not know
what he was doing.
Father, forgive me
for I don’t know
what I am doing.

Forgiveness!
Can I forgive those who cross me,
who double-cross me,
who nail me to the cross each day?

Can I forgive those who neglect me,
who shove me,
who bother me?
Can I forgive those who nail me to my job, to my family,
to my marriage,
to situations I just can’t stand?

Forgive?
Father, how many times do you expect me to forgive?
Do you really want 70 times 7?

And, Jesus, you looked out from the cross
over the crowd.
You looked and you saw me.
You looked out
and you saw the Jews and the Romans.
You saw Auschwitz and My Lai.
Jesus, you looked out and saw the morning headlines,
the graft and the bribery ,
the robberies and the rapes,
and you said,
“Father, forgive them,
for they do not know
what they are doing.”

What?
Are you crazy?
Me forgive her? Me forgive him?
Me forgive them ?
They knew exactly what they were doing.

Forgive ...
You’ve got to be kidding.
They all know exactly what they are doing.

Jesus, are you asking me
to forgive those on welfare,
those I have to pay taxes for,
those who don’t want to work,
those who “rip me off”?
Is that exactly what you are asking?

Jesus, are you asking me
to forgive those who don’t plan,
who don’t think,
who don’t know,
to forgive those who keep me waiting,
those who use up all the hot water
in the shower,
who play their stereos too loud,
those who cause me so much trouble?

Is that what you are asking?
Is that what you are about?
Is that your point?

Why?
Why should I forgive?

Doesn’t forgiveness make matters worse?
Doesn’t all this “forgiveness” really hurt people,
really keep them in their ignorance,
really cause more trouble for those
around them?

What about that?
What about me?

But wait a minute.
What about me?
Come to think about it,
when it comes to me,
I like to hear that word “forgive”
once in awhile,
especially when I’m the guilty one.

I guess you’re right.
“Forgive”
is a beautiful sound,
a beautiful word,
a beautiful verb,
when I’ve made the crucial mistake,
the unforgivable slip of the tongue.
It’s the word I want to hear.
What a beautiful use of the tongue,
“I forgive you.”

“Forgive us our trespasses,
as we forgive those who trespass against us.”
Yes. I guess I’ve said that
a million times,
but I didn’t know
the words meant that.
I didn’t know what I was saying.
Father forgive me,
for I didn’t know what I was saying.


Forgiveness …
Jesus, stop there.
You’re saying too much already.
Jesus, you know too much.
Jesus, you see too much.
Forgiveness...
Jesus, I’m only beginning to understand
the meaning of the word.
Maybe someday I’ll even learn to forgive myself.
Jesus, you see right through me,
through my blindness.
Jesus, you are asking too too much.
Jesus, you are invading my privacy,
my territory.
I’m finding you too much.
I guess I want to stay blind.
I guess I want to stay unforgiven.
I guess I want to stand still.
Father, forgive me,
for I don’t know what I’m doing.

© Andrew Costello, Chapter 1 of

  "How To Pray When Troubled,"- 

Meditations on the 7 Last Words 

of Jesus on the Cross, 1977