Stumbling in the Dark: The Problem of Ignorance

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

On Good Friday some churches offer three hour vigils during which a preacher reflects on each of the “seven last words” of Christ from the cross. During the grueling ordeal of his crucifixion, Jesus speaks seven times. Each “word” reveals something profoundly wondrous about God’s love, grace, mercy, and justice. This is certainly no ordinary person and this is certainly no ordinary death. “The words of a dying person are always significant but never more so than when that person is Jesus, Son of God.”[1]

Father…

The first word from the cross is not addressed to us, but to God: “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23:34). In this word, we overhear a conversation deep within the heart of the Trinity.

This is characteristic of Jesus. Throughout his life and ministry, one relationship above all others defined him – his relationship with God, the One he called “Father” or “Abba.” Even in the profound loneliness of the cross, Jesus does not lash out in anger, or withdraw into himself, but rather, he focuses on his self-in-relationship to God. A lifetime of faith and obedience has prepared him for just this moment. The chief concern of his life has been on pleasing this “audience of One.” Now this is literally all that remains. The disciples have fled and “the once adoring crowds are gone; no one is left to listen to Jesus but the Father. And the word he speaks is a word that only God can dare say to God, for only God can forgive.”[2]

Forgive Them…

Jesus prays that the Father may forgive “them.” To whom is Jesus referring?

Perhaps the question could best be answered by a consideration of who bears responsibility for Jesus’ crucifixion? Who, exactly, is to blame? The answer is far more complex than it might initially seem. The list of suspects is long. Jesus was…

• betrayed by a close and trusted friend
• abandoned and denied by his disciples
• rejected by the religious establishment
• traded for a murderer by a frenzied crowd
• unjustly tried and sentenced to death by the political establishment
• violently treated by the military powers
• cruelly scorned, mocked, humiliated, and abused by onlookers

For whom, then, does he pray for forgiveness? The answer: “them” – that is, all of the above. He prays for each person – each group. Amazingly, the avalanche of sin, injustice, and inhumanity against the sinless and righteous One is met, not with anger, but with Jesus’ plea for divine forgiveness.

In his prayer, Jesus asks God to forgive…

• the cruelty of the crowds. “For Jews and Gentiles alike in those days, a crucified person was as low and despised as it was possible to be. … not fit to live, not even human.”[3] Crucifixion was purposefully designed to humiliate its victim. The crowds understood that their role was to increase, by jeering and mocking, the degradation of those who had been thus designated unfit to live.
• the violence of the soldiers. The ones who, without compassion, wielded the whip, drove him through Jerusalem’s streets, and pounded the nails into his body – all in a day’s work.
• the unjust political leaders. Those committed to preserving the status quo – and their own self-interests and ambitions – at all costs.
• the fragile frightened religious establishment. Those self-righteous religious folk who maintained an appearance of righteousness even as they destroyed human lives without compassion or mercy – all in the name of God.
• the fearful crowd blindly following a mob-rule mentality – some perhaps against their better judgment.
• the confused, self-protective disciples. Disciples who by now – with all Jesus’ warnings – should have known better. Cowardly disciples more concerned for their own hide than for God’s will.

The kind of actions listed comprise an overwhelmingly shocking and ugly list of inhuman impulses. It is staggering to consider that Jesus actually requests forgiveness for….

• cruel humiliating remarks made against suffering people,
• brutal degrading violence,
• the abuse of political, military, and religious power,
• loveless religion without compassion or mercy,
• the fear that provokes crowds to blindly follow the loudest voices,
• the mob spirit that exults in a victim’s suffering, and
• confused, self-serving followers of Christ who abandon their principles when they are no longer personally expedient.

These attitudes and actions continue to describe the world we live in, and if we are honest with ourselves, the world we have helped to create.

The shocking truth – the truth we would rather ignore than admit – is that we are included in the “them” for whom Jesus prays. We are part of the avalanche of sin, injustice, and inhumanity that placed the sinless and righteous one on the cross.

This is the truth revealed in the Christian doctrine of original sin. We all share the blame for human sin, for we all share the same human nature. We are all caught in the avalanche of sin the precedes us – and in that sense, we are its victims. However, as we become part of the avalanche, we also contribute our fair share of sin, injustice, and inhumanity to the downpour. “We” share a problem; “We” are the problem. Try as we might, we cannot blame “them.”

It is difficult, however, to accept this. We don’t like to identify with losers. We prefer to identify with winners. Just consider the following facts: When a sports team wins a victory, more people wear their sports apparel the next day as a sign of solidarity – of identification. If our team loses, less people wear their teams’ shirts, coats, and caps.

The sense of identification goes beyond clothing. When our team wins, we talk about the victory using “we” language: “We did a great job.” “We played tough.” “We made amazing plays.” When our teams loses, we distance ourselves by using “they” and “them” language: “They really played poorly yesterday.” “They failed to take advantage of opportunities.”

Let’s face it: We like to distance ourselves when it is to our advantage – in order to keep ourselves from looking bad. That is why we sometimems look back at Jesus’ cross and say foolish things like, “‘They’ did what ‘we’ would never do.” “If ‘we’ – the enlightened ones, the educated ones, the noble ones – had been there, ‘we’ would have acted differently. ‘We’ would not have been cruel, but kind; not violent, but tender; not unjust, but just; not self-righteous, but humble; not fearful, but courageous; not confused, but enlightened; not self-protective, but self-denying. ‘We’ would have acted so much differently!”

Yeah, right! (The previous sentence is meant to be read with an excessive amount of sarcasm.)

Though we desperately desire to maintain a better image of ourselves, we are capable of the same errors, the same folly. The people around the cross are no different than we are. We must not draw a line between ourselves and these people, as if they need Jesus’ forgiveness, but we do not – as if “they” did what “we” would never do.[4]

The tragic fact is that God drew near, and “we” pushed God as far away as possible. “We” – human sin, injustice, and inhumanity – sought no less than to kill God once and for all. At the cross, the full horror of human sin is made known in its expression against the pure love, light, and life of God. Anglican preacher, Fleming Rutledge puts it well:

The theological meaning of this is that crucifixion is an enactment of the worst that we are, an embodiment of the most sadistic and inhuman impulses that lie within us. The Son of God absorbed all that, drew it into himself. All the cruelty of the human race came to focus in him.[5]

They Don’t Know

In the face of the depths of human depravity, Jesus prays, “Father, forgive them.” Why should God forgive? What is the reason Jesus offers? Do they deserve forgiveness because they have repented? Because they have seen the light, mourned their sin, and changed their ways? No. The reason is much more humbling: “for they do not know what they are doing.” In other words, “Forgive them because of their ignorance.”

As far as I can tell, there are at least three kinds or degrees of ignorance, with varying degrees of destructive potential.

Innocent Ignorance: We don’t know because we can’t know. This is the ignorance we all experienced as children. Children start from square one. Everything must be learned. We expect children to hurt themselves and others through their awkward first movements and frenetic energy and excitement. We expect them to break out in temper tantrums as they learn to deal with the explosive emotions of anger and disappointment. We let them cry in public, because new situations, though trivial to us, can be overwhelming to them. Children are ignorant but it is an innocent ignorance – they do not know because they cannot know.

Unintentional ignorance: we think we know but we don’t. Often our ignorance is not intentional. All of us have had experiences where our attempts to do what is right explode in our face, causing more harm than help. Just consider how many times you have had to personally say to another person, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t know that this would happen.” Catholic Priest, Richard John Neuhaus writes, 

We did not mean to do the deed, of course. The things we have done wrong seemed, or mostly seemed, small at the time. The word of encouragement withheld, the touch of kindness not given, the visit not made. The trust betrayed, the cutting remark so clever and so cruel, the illicit sexual desire so generously entertained, the angry answer, the surge of resentment at being slighted, the lie we thought would do no harm. It is such a long and tedious list of little things. Surely not too much should be made of it, we thought to ourselves. But now it has come to this. It has come to the cross.[6]

Unintentional ignorance may be expressed in very well-intentioned activities and attitudes. We simply don’t know any better.

But good intentions do not absolve us. One could argue that the groups around the cross had good intentions. William Willimon writes, “Most of our malice is exercised without aforethought. Roman soldiers, Jewish Sanhedrin, raving mob—how did each of you decide to murder God’s Son? Well, we thought we were standing up for law and order. We believed we were supporting good biblical values. We were just soldiers obeying orders.”[7] The cliché is true: “The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.” Our ignorance often gets the best of us. We do not know what we do. We think we do; but we often don’t.

Intentional ignorance: we don’t know because we don’t want to know. This is the worst form of ignorance. The Apostle Paul declares this to be humanity’s fundamental flaw: “For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of people who suppress the truth in unrighteousness” (Romans 1:18). We are all guilty of this. We “suppress the truth,” that is, we forcefully push it away. It is an intrusion in our lives. As T. S. Elliot said, humanity cannot bear much truth. The result: we actively suppress the truth, and consequently live lives of intentional ignorance. We don’t know because we don’t want to know.

Whether we experience innocent, unintentional, or intentional ignorance – or a potent combination of all three – we cannot escape the fact that it is because of our ignorance that we simply do not realize the depth and extent of human sin and our contribution to it. We spend most of our lives desperately trying to understand ourselves, others, and our world. Yet, something always seems to elude us. With increasing knowledge comes an increasing sense of ignorance. The more we know, the more we realize we don’t know.

Our plight is desperate. No matter how hard we seek to walk in the light, we tragically find ourselves stumbling in the dark. Contrary to our culture’s conventional solution (I almost said “sedative”), we realize that ignorance cannot be cured by education alone. We do not always do the good we know to do. And the good we know to do is not always as good as it seems.

Though we hate to admit it, ignorance often gets the best of us. This is a tragic fact; not an excuse! Jesus does not pray, “Forgive them Father; for they do not know what they are doing, therefore, they are not really to blame.” This would be to completely miss the point. We are to blame. More pointedly, it is our sins of ignorance that are to blame.

You see, our ignorance does not excuse us from personal culpability. We are guilty because only we are responsible for our actions – even when done from ignorance. If we are unaware of a “no trespassing” sign, but we find ourselves on private property, we are guilty of trespassing. If we ignoranctly run a red light, we are guilty of breaking the law. Our ignorance is not excuse; it is simply an explanation. Therefore, sins of ignorance still remain sins, in spite of our ignorance. There is simply no one else to blame for our actions.

However, the amazing truth is that God’s forgiveness is offered in spite of our ignorance. Even more importantly – and more amazingly! – God’s forgiveness is offered because of our ignorance! Jesus prays for our forgiveness and the reason he gives is that we need forgiveness because we are ignorant. This is amazing grace, amazing love – radical forgiveness in the face of radical sin.

Preemptive Forgiveness

United Methodist pastor, William Willimon calls this act of grace the “preemptive forgiveness” of God. Willimon urges us to notice the order of Jesus’ saying:

What an interesting progression here. First, “Father forgive,” then second, “They don’t know what they’re doing.” Thank God our relationship with God this day is not predicated on our awareness of what we’re doing and who we are and what this all means and what were our motives. Our situation with God is determined by God. Preemptive forgiveness.[8]

God’s forgiveness is not withheld until we first admit that we are sinners. “If God is going to wait until we know the wrong that we do, God will wait forever. … If God’s going to wait to talk with me until I first admit that I’m a sinner, the conversation will never occur. I’ll be too defensive, too deceitful in my guilt. I’d rather die.”[9] We can, therefore, “Be grateful that forgiveness is not limited to the sins that we know.”[10]

In the first word from the cross, we hear the love of God for all. “Jesus prays for people doing terrible things. He prays for men who are committing sadistic acts, offering them to his Father’s mercy.”[11] We encounter a love without limits – a love stronger than all the dark things in the world, and all the dark places in our hearts. Jesus reveals a divine humility so great, that though we shake our first in God’s face, God’s stance remains that of tender forgiveness.

Our ignorance slices in both directions. Though we are tragically ignorant of the depth and extent our own sin, we are also woefully ignorant of the depths of God’s love for us – love reflected in Christ’s very prayer from the cross.

It was love, not nails, that held Jesus to the cross. At the cross, we see both the enormity of our igorance and the greatness of God’s grace. Where sin abounds, grace abounds all the more! Though we remain unable – because of our ignorance – to know the measure of our sin, we know God’s mercy is beyond measure.

Put simply: The evil in human hearts is greater than we can know because of our ignorance. For the same reason, the love of God in Christ is greater than we can possibly imagine.

How can we not surrender to such love and grace? How can this love and grace not shape us?

---

© Richard J. Vincent, 2008