Nine years ago, this month, I was forgiven.
I had been provided the terms of my probation, released from jail, and allowed to freely commune with those who are free.
You see, forgiveness is a lot like love, in that, it is action and not concept.
Treacherous humanity has turned this beautiful pearl into a simple thought, a feeling.
This has been devastating to the human condition, because it is contrary to what is true.
To feel loved and to be loved are not the same; to feel forgiven and to be forgiven are not the same.
Young children understand these simple things - especially the ones who are subjected to the violence of larger and more intelligent humans who strike them out of anger and call it "discipline". For people like them have said in their hearts, "it is better to receive forgiveness than it is to give it" and "I will treat you in the way that I do not want to be treated". They have said in their hearts, "It has now become 'culture', because adults are adults, and children are children, and blacks are blacks, and whites are whites, and fags are fags, and straights are straights, and God has NOT created all men equal - except the ones I say are equal to me."
When I was forgiven, I was released, I was physically set free from bondage. If the prisoner had only felt like he was forgiven, he would only be free in his imagination.
Even as man practices forgiveness in his thoughts, so does he idolize God (from a word straight to the imagination). Such things have been devastating to us, because they are contrary to what is right in front of our faces. They make the Magnificent Enigma nothing more than a powerful magician whose magical acts are mysteriously unseen.
And though they continue to sing their songs for mercy, forever as it seems, their own prophet said to them, "Take away from Me the noise of your songs, I will not even listen to the sounds of your instruments - but let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream."
The starving child whose skin meets her bones, does not care about the forgiving feelings or the loving prayers of those who withhold food from her. It has helped neither them nor her. To forgive her would be to feed her, and nothing less. Forgive her for being black, forgive her for being African, forgive her for being poor - when she is forgiven, her belly will be full.
Even my enemy said to himself, "God has forgiven me", before he, and his three companions (who were afraid of the thunderous roars above), sought out my only life and thrust his blade into my heart. If he had been forgiven, he would not have feared the loud noise, nor would he have equated his hate for me with the love of God. If he was forgiving, his hand would have helped me rather than force me into a slumber from which I could not awaken myself.
You see, I was released from jail and allowed to freely commune with those who are free.
Who does forgiveness benefit the least, the man who loves another man, or the man whose flesh distresses him?
My own companion was in distress, and though he did not seek my help, he stumbled and fell upon it.
I gave him my oil for the affliction of his skin. He believed me because he passionately loved me. When his affliction was gone, he was amazed by the oil because he did not understand that it was his own conviction that healed his skin, and not the oil.
My companion removed his affliction during the day, but I was forgiven, so my afflictions had been removed even while I was asleep. Though I am alive, my flesh is raised up every day, even as I rest at night.
You see, I was released from jail and allowed to freely commune with those who are free.
