Skip to main content

Works of Love XIV: "Love Covers Sin"

[From Part II, Chapter V: “Love Hides a Multiplicity of Sins”]

“Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins.” 
~ 1 Peter 4:8 (NASB)

I honestly never really thought about what this verse meant until now. After all, how can love cover a multitude of sins? I know how Christ’s love covers my sins, but Peter is not talking about Christ’s love for me. He is talking about our love for each other. How can my love cover someone else’s sin? What does that even mean?

For Kierkegaard, one of the ways that love covers up sin is through forgiveness, which actually removes or erases sin. This is a path that most of us probably don’t want to follow, however, because we like to be pragmatic. We like to focus on what we can see happening, and you cannot see sin being erased. As Kierkegaard argues, it requires faith:
“The lover sees the sin which he forgives, but he believes that forgiveness takes it away. This of course, cannot be seen, although the sin can be seen; and on the other hand, if the sin did not exist to be seen, neither could it be forgiven. Just as one by faith believes the unseen in the seen, so the lover by forgiveness believes the seen away. Both are faith. Blessed is the man of faith; he believes what he cannot see. Blessed is the lover; he believes away what he nevertheless can see!”[1]
To forgive is an act of faith: the evidence of the sin persists; the consequences persist; and yet we believe that the sin is gone, and so by forgiving we remove sin from the world. It sounds good, and yet Kierkegaard observes that by our actions we reveal that we don’t really believe in the power of forgiveness to erase sin:
“But why, I wonder, is forgiveness so rare? Is it not, I wonder, because faith in the power of forgiveness is so small and so rare? Even the better person, which is not at all inclined to carry malice and rancor and is far from being irreconcilable, is not infrequently heard to say: ‘I should like to forgive him, but I don’t see how it could be of help.’ Alas, it is not seen! Yet, if you yourself had ever needed forgiveness, then you know what forgiveness accomplishes—why then do you speak so naively and so unlovingly about forgiveness? For there is something essentially unloving in saying: I don’t see what help my forgiveness can give him.”
To deny forgiveness because I don’t believe it would change anything is essentially unloving because I know it does change things: that’s why I crave forgiveness myself when I’m the guilty party. If being forgiven makes a difference to me, then why shouldn’t forgiving others make a difference? To deny that to my neighbor is unloving.

But, of course, simply forgiving is not enough. It is possible to use forgiveness in an unloving way. People crave forgiveness, and so with all human needs we often exploit that need. We often use our forgiveness as leverage or emotional capital to manipulate others or keep them in our power. “I forgive you, but you owe me one!” we might say. To use forgiveness as a power-play is also unloving, and it does not have the same effect. In order to cover over a multitude of sin, Kierkegaard argues, forgiveness must come from love:
“Only love is—yes, it seems playful, but let us put it this way—only love is handy enough to take the sin away by forgiving it. When I hang weights on forgiveness (that is, when I am laggard in forgiving or make myself important by being able to forgive), no miracle occurs. But when love forgives, the miracle of faith occurs…: that which is seen nevertheless by being forgiven is not seen.”
When we forgive in love we perform a miracle. Instead of moving a mountain, we do something far more important and miraculous: we cover sin. A mountain can be moved with enough equipment and enough time, and there would be nothing miraculous about it. But to cover sin through loving forgiveness—that is a true miracle that only God can accomplish.

Dear Father,
To be honest, I find that I don’t really want to cover my neighbor’s sins. Especially when I’m the injured party, I would rather hold it over them. I would rather expose their sin to the whole world. I would rather take revenge. And yet you have granted us the ability to cover over sin—to reduce it, to erase it even, by forgiving as you have forgiven. Make me always mindful that forgiveness matters. Remind me that I can speak love into another person’s life by forgiving them—and you have commanded us both to forgive and to love. Make me into an agent of your forgiveness, and overcome my pettiness for the sake of your kingdom.
In the name of Jesus Christ, who forgave all of my sins,
Amen.




[1] Søren Kierkegaard, Works of Love. Harper Perennial, 2009, p. 274.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Massacre of the Innocents [By W.H. Auden]

[From For the Time Being,  by W.H. Auden] HEROD One needn’t be much of a psychologist to realize that if this rumor is not stamped out now, in a few years it is capable of diseasing the whole Empire, and one doesn’t have to be a prophet to predict the consequences if it should. Reason will be replaced by Revelation. Instead of Rational Law, objective truths perceptible to any who will undergo the necessary intellectual discipline, and the same for all, Knowledge will degenerate into a riot of subjective visions—feelings in the solar plexus induced by undernourishment, angelic images generated by fevers or drugs, dream warnings inspired by the sound of falling water. Whole cosmologies will be created out of some forgotten personal resentment, complete epics written in private languages, the daubs of school children ranked above the great masterpieces. Idealism will be replaced by Materialism. Priapus will only have to move to a good address and call himself Eros

Works of Love XVIII: “Love for the Dead”

[From Part II, Chapter IX: “ The Work of Love in Remembering One Dead ”] “Weep less bitterly for the dead, for he is at rest.” Sirach 22:11 (NRSV) [1] With chapter 9 of part 2, Works of Love is beginning to come to a close. With entry 17, this blog series is also nearing its end. As Kierkegaard has given us a detailed view of what Christian love is supposed to look like, now he gives us a way to test the purity of our own love: look at the way you love those who have died. [2] We are to love everyone, and loving means remembering, and so we are to love the dead. But loving those who have died is a special circumstance, and it shows us what kind of love we are showing. If we reflect on the way we love the dead, we can see whether we are showing truly Christian love. Kierkegaard identifies three ways that love for the dead is unique. First, he says that showing love for the dead is “a work of the most unselfish love.” He writes, “If one wants to make sure that love is

The Temptation of St. Joseph [By W.H. Auden]

[From For the Time Being  by W.H. Auden, about the experience of Joseph after hearing that Mary is pregnant.]           JOSEPH My shoes were shined, my pants were cleaned and pressed, And I was hurrying to meet           My own true Love: But a great crowd grew and grew Till I could not push my way through           Because A star had fallen down in the street;           When they saw who I was, The police tried to do their best.