The baby girl, feeling his attention
shift away from her, reached forward and grabbed his nose. Gently he freed
himself and continued the sermon. After a few minutes, she took his tie and put
it in her mouth. The entire congregation chuckled. The rabbi rescued his tie
and smiled at his child. She put her tiny arms around his neck. Looking at us
over the top of her head, he said, "Think about it. Is there anything she can
do that you could not forgive her for?" Throughout the room people began to nod
in recognition, thinking perhaps of their own children and grandchildren. Just
then, she reached up and grabbed his eyeglasses. Everyone laughed out
loud.
Retrieving his eyeglasses and settling
them on his nose, the rabbi laughed as well. Still smiling, he waited for
silence. When it came, he asked, "And when does that stop? When does it get
hard to forgive? At three? At seven? At fourteen? At thirty-five? How old
does someone have to be before you forget that everyone is a child of
God?"
Back then, God's forgiveness was
something easily understandable to me, but personally I found forgiveness
difficult. I had thought of it as a lowering of standards rather than a family
relationship.
Rachel Naomi Remen
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