Samson and Agonistes
I
don’t know how to express the balance and I certainly haven’t found it
in practice. I think the difficulty is real and enduring because the
situation is complex. Despite the claims of the gurus and popular
writers some things just aren’t easy to unravel! [Don’t you get sick of
the endless river of advice books that are a mile wide and an inch
deep?]
How
much time should I spend mulling over my sins? How much time should I
spend mulling over and lamenting my sinfulness? If we take Paul’s advice
and forget the things that are behind will we too quickly rise from our
mourning and too cheerfully press on? If we spend too much time in the
last half of Romans 7 (I’m not pretending to give what I think is its
thrust) will we be too introspective? There’s David who inwardly grinds
his bones over his sin and irritable Job who wants to know why God would
make such a big deal over his sin (presuming, in the first place, that
he had done something wrong)—which of these two has the right stress?
In Milton’s Samson & Agonistes
the fallen man is approached by his father Manoah who tells Samson that
he is trying to negotiate his freedom. Samson will have none of it
because he brought all his trouble on himself and deserves what he is
getting—his mind is on his terrible wrongs. His father thinks the sinner
has his blind eyes too much on himself (the offender) and how bad he
is, rather than on the God he has offended. Might Samson now be guilty
of the sin of pride by being,
Over-just and self-displeased
For self-offence more than for God offended.
Was he being too just in refusing to accept forgiveness? Was he more offended at himself than he was offended for
God? There’s something too holy about a man (or woman) that keeps
insisting that he can’t forgive himself. I wouldn’t presume to say there
aren’t exceptions to the rule, but who do they think they are, God?
Should we think that they see their sin more truly than the Holy Father
sees it? Does their holiness surpass his so that somehow, while he might
be willing to forgive, they think it unforgivable? Do we take it more
seriously than God does? And even in relation to one another, when we
have sinned against one another, is there not the temptation to choose
to live without forgiveness rather that be under obligation to the
generous grace of the one we’ve offended?
And—maybe
I’m making too much out of all this—if we’re slow to humbly and gladly
accept forgiveness are we not saying that we’re content to have the gulf
between us? Does that not show that we think little of the relationship
we will not have restored by forgiveness? If the one we’ve offended is
willing, eager, anxious even, to have the matter dealt with and out of
the way so that the relationship can deepen and purify what am I saying
when I turn down the offer of free forgiveness?
Ah,
yes, that may be the case in other situations, but my sin—it is
special, not like the sin of others. It’s the worst possible and resists
even the tenderest affection and the most generous heart.
Hmmm...maybe we need to take ourselves less seriously.
Once in a saintly passion
I cried in deepest grief.
O God, my heart is filled with guile
Of sinners I’m the chief.
Then stood my guardian angel
And whispered from behind,
‘Vanity, my little man,
You’re nothing of the kind.’
But
if they’re doing wrong who will not forgive themselves, what are they
doing that bully people into thinking they’re unforgivable? That make it
nearly impossible for self-scalded sinners to believe they should
expect forgiveness? That make it excruciatingly difficult for sinners to
ask for forgiveness?