Brothers and sisters,
There is a sentence of Jesus that almost everyone knows:
“Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”
We have heard it so often that we think we already understand it. We hear it as a general statement about forgiveness. And of course, Jesus teaches forgiveness everywhere. That is not in question.
But today I want to invite you to look more closely—because sometimes, when we look closely, we discover something even more beautiful than we expected.
1. What was really happening at that moment?
When Jesus spoke those words, something very specific was happening.
The soldiers were not debating theology.
They were not wrestling with guilt.
They were gambling.
They were dividing up Jesus’ clothes as if he were already gone—as if his life no longer mattered. This is pure robbery.
Jesus does not shout at them.
He does not accuse them.
He does not say, “You are killing the Son of God!”
He simply says:
“They don’t know what they’re doing.”
In other words: They don’t understand that by this robbery they become the same transgressors as the ones they execute. And they even cast lots thus pretending God settles their matter.
This prayer is not a speech to the world.
It is a quiet interruption of a careless moment.
2. Why Jesus does not accuse the people who kill him
Now here is something we often miss.
Jesus does not say:
“Father, forgive them for murdering me.”
Why?
Because forgiveness always means this:
Someone is guilty, and someone else is standing above them releasing the debt.
But Jesus refuses to stand above anyone like that.
Instead of letting blame pile up, Jesus does something unexpected:
He steps into the situation so fully that no one has to be turned into a monster.
He does not fight.
He does not argue his innocence.
He does not expose people publicly.
He allows himself to be treated like a criminal—not because he is one, but because he loves the people involved too much to trap them in guilt forever.
This is not weakness.
This is love that thinks ahead.
3. Two very different kinds of “no guilt”
Let me put it simply.
There are two ways to say, “You are not guilty.”
The first way:
“You were guilty, but I forgive you.”
That can be generous.
That can be sincere.
But there is still a problem.
The other person must live knowing:
I needed forgiveness.
Someone stood above me and released me.
Even forgiven people can feel their dignity affronted.
The second way:
“There was never a debt to begin with.”
This is what unconditional love does.
It does not wait for people to fail so it can forgive them.
It refuses to turn their failure into the main story at all.
And that preserves dignity.
4. A simple picture
Imagine this.
Some people want you gone.
You love them.
You know the outcome cannot be avoided.
You have two choices.
Choice one:
You wait.
They hurt you.
Later, you say, “I forgive you.”
Even if you mean it fully, they will always know:
We were the ones who needed mercy.
Choice two:
You move first.
You arrange things so they never have to become villains.
You take responsibility in a way that protects them from lifelong blame.
You don’t forgive.
You don’t accuse.
You simply love.
That second choice does not humiliate anyone.
It does not turn anyone into an example.
It leaves everyone standing upright.
That is what Jesus does.
5. Why this matters for how we imagine God
Many people imagine the final judgment like a courtroom:
God high above.
People small below.
Arguments.
Defensiveness.
Fear.
But ask yourself:
Why would anyone argue with God at the end?
Because deep down, they feel they were never treated as equals.
They feel judged from above.
But if Jesus’ way is love that never needed to forgive—
love that never crushed dignity—
then the final judgment looks very different.
Not a courtroom.
Not a showdown.
But a moment of clear truth where nothing is left to defend.
No one is silenced.
There is simply nothing left to argue.
6. The greatness of Jesus
Jesus’ greatness is not that he forgives more than anyone else.
His greatness is that he refuses to make people guilty—even when he is suffering.
He does not say:
“Look how merciful I am.”
He says nothing.
He simply loves them in a way that prevents guilt from becoming the center of the story.
7. What this means for us
This changes how we live.
We stop seeing ourselves as people who are constantly on probation.
We stop believing that guilt is the doorway to God.
We stop imagining love as something that requires us to be crushed first.
God does not love us because we are forgiven.
God loves us so deeply that our failures are not allowed to define us.
8. One sentence to take home
If you remember nothing else, remember this:
Forgiveness removes guilt.
Love makes sure guilt never becomes who you are.
And that love—quiet, strong, unshakable—is what Jesus shows us from the cross.
May we learn not only to forgive like Jesus,
but to love like him—
in a way that leaves no one diminished,
not even those who hurt us.
Amen.