The days immediately preceding Great Lent are often filled with a great deal of fuss and various concerns.  After all, at home, the refrigerator has not yet been cleared of non-Lenten foods, our heads remain filled with thoughts of the still-ongoing merriment in the week of Maslenitsa, and in the soul – in the soul there is often not an anticipation of the approach of great days of cleansing through repentance, but only sadness over the absence of delicacies and the other usual “joys.”

Yet, Friday passes by, Saturday comes to its conclusion, and the final Sunday before Great Lent begins.

Forgiveness Sunday.

For some, it is a touching, important day, for others, a beautiful tradition, and for yet others, a habit.

How often we do so many things out of habit!

Out of habit, we say “Gesundheit.” We are quick to respond with an on-the-fly “Thank you,” and whisper “Good night” while we are thinking about something else

Long ago, we were taught to say “Forgive me.”  We learned to say those words in childhood whenever we wanted our little sister to keep playing with us, or wanted mother to let us watch television in the evening.  In our youth, we learned to say them when we wanted to resume hours-long chats on the phone with a friend, or to whisper to one another at our desks at school. …

As adults, we strive to make peace with our elderly parents when they complain to us – with or without reason, and to make peace with those same close friends, and ultimately, with those we love.

However, as we get older, more and more often there are times when the words “forgive me” take on a meaning more profound than when we speak them in passing, in between other matters and thoughts. 

Then, the phrase, so easy and convenient as a way of solving problems, becomes unbearably heavy and difficult.

It gets stuck on the tongue, it forcefully pounds within our heads, and puts a lump in our throat.

It seems to us that we can convince ourselves to cast off our obligation to ask forgiveness, because we do not have the time, or because “things will resolve themselves,” or because “he/she already understands.”  We won’t even touch on the so-convenient excuses “and anyway – why should I?!” or “he himself is to blame.”

And so those unspoken phrases accumulate, and ever less often is the heart seized with pangs of conscience.

We gradually get used to the fact that walking is becoming less easy than it was, that it is harder to breathe freely, and that believing is not so simple.

It begins to seem to us that this is how it always was, and how it always will be.

Then comes the one day in the year when we are inevitably and directly faced by the thought of our unpaid debt.

When it is impossible to turn away, to pull our heads into our shells, or to hide behind various standard excuses and reasons.

And quite often, we have many more debts than come to mind in those first few minutes:

“Forgive me” addressed to parents – for being annoyed by their advice, by their routine complaints about health.  After all, some day we will be on the other end of the phone line, [complaining] to our children.

“Forgive me” addressed to our children – for not spending minutes and hours with them, for not praising them aloud, for not holding back harsh words.

“Forgive me” addressed to those we love – for all of our actions that are inconsistent with the term “love.” …

“Forgive me” addressed to those to whom we are indebted – for our having so quickly forgotten about the debt.

“Forgive me” addressed to those who are indebted to us – for our still remembering that debt.

“Forgive me” addressed to the One Who with such love and concern gave and continues to give us life, in spite of how many times we have forgotten or failed to say “forgive.”…

“Forgive me” to the one who daily pleads with her Son that He give us more time in which to remember and realize all of this.

More often than not, to scrape away the weight of the unspoken that has become firmly affixed to us takes great effort.  But experience just once what it is like to breathe deeply, to feel how much easier it is to walk with head held high – that is something you will not forget, something that will cause you to rush to seek after that forgiveness each and every year.  Even better – every day.  All your life.

It is worthwhile to spend that day pulling from your accommodatingly forgetful memory those people before whom your guilt has been piling up for a long time, or has suddenly and inadvertently appeared while you were “racing at full speed.”  Those before whom our conscience says we have yet to be acquitted.

Two words — “Forgive me. “

They do not guarantee that in the future you will not make mistakes or be unjust, but in them lies the possibility of once again finding the capacity to truly believe and truly love.

To live, and not just breathe.

Natalia Semushkina
Pravmir.ru