Are we to repent for our ancestors past sins?

[Aquila]

Originally Posted by aegsm76

Now that's funny!
A - maybe you need to refine your position, because this is what I hear.

In order to be saved, you must repent for the sins of your fathers (and mothers, I presume).

I don't see it as a matter of salvation. I see it as a matter of justice and righteousness expected of those who are saved. Personal salvation is entirely an individual thing. And it is a totally different topic. So, I believe we'd both agree on salvation being entirely based on the individual's response to the Gospel.

You gave a very moving example, now let me give you another one.
Let's say your father was a serial adulterer.
Would you need to find the women, husbands, children of the families who he caused anguish and sorrow to and apologize to them?

No. One need only to repent of their own adulteries. One need not seek these people out and apologize for anything. However, if any of these family live within the community and they see the pain in their lives, it isn't going to cause any harm to apologize for what their father had done to them.

Here's a personal story...

My dad actually was a serial adulterer. Vietnam vet, quite the ladies man. He cheated on my mom with the woman who was to become his second wife. He cheated on his second wife. He cheated on his third wife. He sired children in each marriage, and one outside of wedlock. When he died, I had to reach out and try to find my half-brothers (they were all boys). When I contacted them, every one of them were of the opinion that it would be a cold day in hell before they'd attend his funeral. I love my dad, but I didn't always like him or every decision he made. He was a decorated veteran. He was messed up. He not only was a serial womanizer (looking for love in all the wrong places), but he was an alcoholic, and an abusive man. The war left him broken. He even experienced stints of homelessness. And when he hit rock bottom, he'd come crawling back to my mother, his first wife. And she'd do what she could to help him get on his feet, or get him to where he needed to go. While my siblings saw him as a monster. He was my dad. A broken hero. Being a vet myself, I could more than relate. I tried my best to persuade them to attend his funeral. My half-brothers, Ricky and David were adamant. They were going to celebrate his death. At first, Brandon felt the same. But I had an impulse to apologize to Brandon for dad's actions, and how our dad abandoned him just as he did me, David, and Ricky. I explained how I saw our dad, a sin sick broken hero who never found his peace. Brandon cried with me over the phone and we talked. Something in my words helped him begin healing. It helped him begin dumping the bitterness he had held almost his entire life. Brandon decided that he needed to pay his respects to our dad, but he wasn't comfortable speaking at the funeral. With that, Brandon and I both contacted Ricky and David once more. Me, Brandon, and Ricky met up at Ricky's house (he has a wife and kids of his own now). In that back yard, we laughed, cried, and even cursed the foolishness of this man we all called our father. Again, I apologized for him, and shared my thoughts about him as not only his son, but a fellow vet. We did a lot of healing that day. David lives in Buffalo New York, and wouldn't return any calls. In the brief conversation I did have with him, the bitterness and pain was clearly rather deep. Perhaps I'll never know if he'll ever find a way to heal that bitterness. I pray he does.

Dad's funeral was held at the local VA Cemetery, and he was buried with military honors... with three of his four sons in the front row, honoring his service, and honoring the positive memories we had of him. Today, I have two brothers I can contact at any hour of the night. We'd never had each other before, but in the wake of my dad's death, we found our bond. It took tenderness, acknowledgement of wrongs done, and a desire to do what was appropriate for us. Not so much what was appropriate for our father, but for us. And for us, my dad's death opened the communication that allowed healing to begin.

Some have told me that he didn't deserve any of it. Maybe he didn't. However, as I stood there looking over the cemetery, holding dad's flag, and reflecting on dad's memory, I felt that although he did me wrong, no... he did us wrong... we did him right.

Sometimes, an apology, and acknowledging wrongs committed by our fathers can open the door for healing.