Forgiveness Sunday Vespers is the evening service on the last Sunday before Great Lent begins. It’s when we ask each other’s forgiveness before entering the Fast together.
This service marks the actual start of Lent. You’ll notice the change immediately. The bright hymns give way to more sober ones. The Prayer of St. Ephrem gets prayed for the first time, with prostrations. And at the end of Vespers, something happens that doesn’t occur at any other service all year: we line up and ask forgiveness of every person in the room.
Why We Do This
The Gospel reading that morning is Matthew 6:14-21, where Christ says if we don’t forgive others, our Father won’t forgive us either. That’s not a suggestion. We can’t enter the spiritual intensity of Great Lent carrying grudges, resentments, or unreconciled relationships. The Eucharist requires it. Christ Himself said not to bring your gift to the altar if you’ve got something against your brother, go be reconciled first, then come back and offer your gift.
So the Church makes us do it. Not in a legalistic way, but in the way a good mother makes her children apologize to each other before sitting down to dinner together. We’re about to spend forty days fasting and praying as one body. We can’t do that if we’re nursing wounds against each other.
What Actually Happens
The service itself follows the normal Vespers structure, but everything’s different. The tone shifts. In some parishes the priest changes the altar coverings from bright colors to more subdued Lenten ones. The hymns are penitential. You’ll hear the stichera of repentance sung in the tone of the week.
And then comes the Prayer of St. Ephrem. If you’ve never experienced it, it’s striking. “O Lord and Master of my life, take from me the spirit of sloth, despair, lust of power, and idle talk.” Between each petition, we make prostrations, all the way down to the floor, forehead to the ground. It’s humbling. That’s the point.
After Vespers ends, the priest comes out and bows before the congregation. He says something like, “Forgive me, a sinner.” Everyone responds, asking his forgiveness too. Then we come forward, one by one.
You face the person, bow, and say, “Forgive me, a sinner.” They respond, “God forgives, and I forgive you,” or simply “I forgive you.” You might embrace. You might just bow again. Then you move to the next person. In a parish of fifty people, this takes a while. In a parish of two hundred, it can take an hour. The choir sings quietly, often Paschal hymns, which is a beautiful touch. We’re asking forgiveness so we can reach Pascha together.
What It Feels Like
I won’t lie to you. It’s awkward the first time. Especially if you’re from a Baptist background where public displays of emotion are limited to altar calls and homecomings. You’re standing there in a line, about to ask forgiveness from people you barely know, and from that one person you’ve been avoiding since the parish council meeting.
But something happens. The repetition breaks you open. By the twentieth person, you’re not thinking about the words anymore. You mean them. And when you get to someone you’ve actually wronged, or someone who’s hurt you, the words carry weight. I’ve seen grown men weep. I’ve seen people reconcile who hadn’t spoken in months. It’s not magic, it’s the Holy Spirit working through obedience.
Practical Notes for Your First Time
Don’t skip this service. I know Sunday evening is tough if you’ve got work Monday morning, especially if you’re on a plant schedule. But this is how we enter Lent. You can’t really participate in the Fast if you miss the doorway.
If you’re uncomfortable with embracing people (and plenty of folks are), a bow and the words are enough. Follow what others do. If your parish is large, they’ll probably organize it somehow, by pews, or having people come down the center aisle. Just get in line.
If there’s someone specific you need to reconcile with, try to do that before the service if possible. This rite isn’t a replacement for actual repentance and restitution. It’s the Church’s way of clearing the air corporately so we can fast together.
And if you’ve got someone you genuinely can’t reconcile with yet? Come anyway. Ask God to help you forgive. Talk to your priest. Don’t let the difficulty keep you from participating in what the whole parish is doing.
The service ends differently than it began. We walked in as individuals. We leave as a forgiven community, ready to take up the Fast together. That’s worth an awkward hour on a Sunday night.
