Founding Father and polymath Benjamin Franklin is credited with saying, “Never ruin an apology with an excuse.” Although he is probably correct, his admonishment carries with it an enormous burden. It is tough to be fully and personally responsible for our transgressions. Too often, we act impulsively, jealously or in the grips of tantrum. We cause harm to others, and often to ourselves, then seek a worthy scapegoat upon which to hang blame. Surely, we wouldn’t have said the unforgivable mean thing if they hadn’t “made” us do it. Or maybe we were just hungry, stressed or tired.

With even greater occurrence, we act without regard to those around us. Absent mindedly, we cut them off in traffic. We insult something they care about deeply. We undermine their hopes and dreams. Mostly, we didn’t even notice. Surely, we wouldn’t have said the unforgivable mean thing if we’d known that it mattered. Maybe we should have been warned of the sensitivity? Maybe we cut them off in traffic because we were late, more important or entitled. Probably we did it because we weren’t that interested in restraining our wants.

What is the need for an excuse when our offenses are cleansed with a simple incantation? “I’m sorry” is all that is needed. If others don’t immediately accept, well, then, they must be bad, evil people, unworthy of our attempt at regret, no matter how late, insincere or insufficient. Still, English historian and noted 17th-century author Thomas Fuller reminded us that “bad excuses are worse than none.”

What do we hope to accomplish with a half-hearted “I’m sorry?” Do we hold ourselves to such little account that seven letters serve to justify atonement? When have our confessions been inadequate and what might we do to make things right for our failing?