“Can you get me off the hook, Tom? For old time’s sake?”
It’s one of the most poignant moments in the movie The Godfather. Mobster Salvatore Tessio, dear friend and trusted lieutenant of the late Vito Corleone, has been caught plotting to murder Corleone’s son and heir Michael.
“Can’t do it, Sally,” answered Corleone henchman Tom Hagen.
But Tessio knew the answer before he even asked the question. The penalty for betrayal is death. No exceptions. That’s because traitors who fail will always be dangerous. It’s basic human nature – most of us are simply unable to forgive ourselves. And that makes turncoats more likely to try, try again.
Think about it. Isn’t there something you’ve done that feels beyond your own forgiveness?
One of the first record albums I ever bought was Tapestry by Carole King. The year was 1971; I was 14 years old. I knew from previous purchases the price was $4.12 including tax. When I handed my $5 bill to the newbie cashier, I expected 88 cents back in change, and that’s what she gave me. But then, confused, the flustered clerk blushed at her “mistake” and handed me another dollar.
I immediately thought if she was going to give me an extra dollar, who was I to argue? Not me!
Uh, wrong answer.
It didn’t take me long to realize the rookie cashier, a high school student like me, probably noticed her error only when she had to reconcile the cash drawer with her receipts. And she likely had to make up for the shortfall out of her own pocket.
I could have justified my dishonesty by telling myself things like this tend to balance out over a lifetime. Or that I actually provided her with a good life lesson. Or at least a good math lesson. But, even at 14-years-old, I had to acknowledge my action for what it really was – I sold my integrity for a dollar.
Harsh judgment? Maybe not, especially considering the punishment. I didn’t really steal a dollar. What I really stole was my own joy in the music.
Tapestry is one of the best-selling albums in history. It remains one of the most critically-acclaimed works of music of the 20th century. Yet, it was impossible to fully enjoy it. That’s because, whenever I played this masterpiece, I was reminded of my dishonesty. Call it music purgatory.
God dearly wants to forgive us. Forgiveness was the purpose of Jesus’ life and death; God’s not going to waste that. But we’re not God, so looking in the mirror is another story. God may be able to wipe our slate clean, but we can’t – not for ourselves, not very easily. Not unless we pull a page from God’s playbook.
Catholics receive God’s forgiveness by going to Reconciliation – confession. The last step in Reconciliation is penance. Atonement makes it easier to forgive ourselves. So in addition to my original penance of Our Fathers and Hail Marys, a couple of record albums ended up finding deserving homes from an anonymous friend, my own personal atonement to that young cashier. Not coincidentally, I’ve been able to listen to Tapestry with a clear conscience ever since.
Maybe making similar amends might help you more easily exorcise an old debt. Hey, if Tessio knew about this, he might not have betrayed an old friend. Instead, maybe he would have stolen a Frank Sinatra record.
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