Let Light Stream Forth

”Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do”: The key to breaking planetary Karma 

As Jesus—the man overshadowed by the Christ—was being crucified on the cross, the crowds mocked him. Roman soldiers jested, the religious establishment gloated at his predicament, and even one of the thieves crucified beside him seized a final moment of sarcasm, derisively challenging him to save himself—and them—if he were truly the Christ.

In this moment, Jesus uttered the words: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they are doing.” This may well be the moment when Jesus became the Savior of the world.

To place this moment in context, it is worth contemplating what was unfolding and the many different responses and outcomes Jesus could have initiated.

At that moment, he had the world’s attention. All eyes were on him—the religious establishment, the Jewish gentry, ordinary people, Roman authorities. Even his disciples watched from a distance, praying and hoping for a miracle from the miracle worker. What better moment to declare his divinity? To descend from the cross, unscathed and in full view of all, would have been the ultimate act of glory. Is it not written, “You will not allow your Holy One to see corruption”?

Jesus had already shown that he was not inclined toward unnecessary displays of divine power. He had overcome the devil when tempted to cast himself down from the pinnacle of the temple, refusing to prove himself through spectacle. Yet this moment was different. He had not placed himself here; it had been thrust upon him. Surely, this would have seemed the perfect moment to halt his humiliation and declare the supremacy of God. The timing was flawless: descend from the cross and defy the power of Rome—a declaration for the ages.

He had earned it. He was the Christ, the Son of God. He was innocent. He did not deserve this humiliation, which itself could have been an obstacle to people recognizing the power of God. Unbeknownst to those gathered below, myriads of angels and devas stood under his authority, waiting in shining armor for a single command. In an instant, they could have struck down his tormentors and freed him from the cross.

Such an act would have been spectacular—a testament to his sonship and the glory he shared with the Father. It might even have seemed more convincing than a resurrection witnessed only by a few, one that would inevitably raise doubts. Justice would have been served. In that moment, Jesus beheld the Father’s sword, poised to strike on behalf of the Son. With a single act of will, he could have restored balance and repaid violence with violence. His persecutors would have fallen into the very pit they had dug. Just a few decades earlier, the ghost of Ceaser had haunted down all those who murdered him. They all died violent deaths. But he was not Ceaser; He was the Christ.

As he writhed in agony, his heart was filled with compassion.

He paused and said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” And the sword of vengeance became a sword that breaks chains—setting captives free from ignorance and the endless cycle of retribution.

The blood of Abel cried out for vengeance; the blood of Jesus cried out for mercy. In that moment, Jesus poured all his being into reconciliation—standing between humanity and God. And all who would follow him are called to do the same. We are invited to take up our cross and follow him.

 P.S. “O divine master, grant that I might seek not so much to be consoled as to console. Let me seek to understand another more than I seek to be understood. For it is in giving that we now receive. It is in pardoning that we are now pardoned. It is in dying that we are now born again. Lord, make us instruments of your peace. Where there is hatred. Let me sow love”.