(I'm a bit under the weather, so no blog yesterday. Sorry. Apologies in advance for any typos I miss.)
So: there is no question that forgiveness is an essential part of the good news of Christianity. God forgives us as we forgive others. We have a mandate to forgive, as foreign as forgiveness may be to our human inclination.
So, what do we do when we have someone or something we cannot humanly forgive? Do we just resign ourselves to a harsh judgment and remain unforgiving? Of course not.
We invite God to help.
Now, I'll be the first to admit that forgiveness does not come naturally to me. The idea of an eye for an eye sounds pretty good to me sometimes. I can think of a person or two whose downfall would seem to me to be simple justice and carry a personal satisfaction that distresses me to contemplate. Yet, forgiving does not come easily to me and perhaps, not to you either.
Some aspects of life are just too big for us to handle on our own. We know what to do: enlist God's help. When it comes to forgiveness, though, if we are honest, we may not really want God's help because we are not ready to let go. Instead of falling into self-condemnation, though, we can move forward.
The trick is to take it as slowly as we must, being compassionate with ourselves along the way. Why the compassion? Because inability to forgive is directly linked to live, throbbing pain. The bigger the hurt, the harder to forgive the one who caused it.
So we begin by turning to God and admitting our pain as well as our weakness. We recognize our need to forgive and to heal, and we ask God's help in healing our hurt so that we can find our way to forgiveness.
Maybe the issue is still so live that we cannot ask God to help us to forgive. With compassion, we recognize this and ask God to help us heal. We ask God to bring us peace and relief from the pain. As we find peace, the rest will come.
If that is too much for us, we can still move toward forgiveness. We
can ask God to help us to move toward readiness to forgive. If need be,
we can ask God to help us to become ready to begin moving toward readiness, or to become ready to consider eventually becoming ready to forgive.
We can word our prayer however we must in order to take that first step. I recall speaking with someone who was so unwilling to forgive that our prayer went something like, "Dear God, I ask you to help me escape from the pain of this incident. I ask you as well to help me to become ready to consider the possibility that at some time in the future I may become willing to begin my journey toward forgiving N. for the hurt he has caused me."
When I tell that story, people often chuckle, but the prayer is valid. We're not telling God something God doesn't already know when we acknowledge how unready we are to forgive. When we invite God into our pain and unwillingness, we acknowledge God's power to transform it -- and us as well.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Monday, September 17, 2012
And Yet
There are so many reasons not to forgive others, despite the benefits to the practice.
Forgiveness relieves our spirits, helps us regain our joy in life, frees us of the burden of old hurts. Forgiveness is healing to the spirit as well as the soul, and some evidence suggests that it can even have a healing effect on the body.
The bottom line, though, is that all the reasons we can devise or discover are actually immaterial. There is one overriding reason to forgive: Christ tells us to to do so.
Why? The answer is right there in the prayer Christ taught: we will be forgiven as generously as we forgive. 'Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us."
If you can get out of that one, then take a look at Mt. 18. Peter, the Everyman of Christ's followers, asks how many times must we forgive someone. Christ tells him not seven times but seventy times seven times and then illustrates why with the parable of the unmerciful servant. Having had his own debt forgiven by the master, the servant went off and refused to forgive a much smaller debt against him. Hearing about this, the master threw the servant into jail to be tortured until his debt was paid.
Ouch. That's pretty clear, isn't it!
As we forgive others, so are we forgiven. All the rest of it - freedom, joy, healing - that's just lagniappe, a bonus. The bottom line is that we must forgive if we want to receive forgiveness.
I know, people have hurt us more than we have hurt others, right? Their transgressions are so much worse than anything we have done.
We never know that. I once had to file a police report against a teacher who didn't like the way I said 'thank you' to him. Seriously, this was his rationale: it sounded insincere, like 'have a nice day' or something. What seems small to us, like an automatic thank you, has implications we cannot know to another. In ways we don't intend and cannot expect, we hurt others and send them over the edge, as I unwittingly did.
Note: we're not responsible for the ways they choose to handle their hurt or anger. We are all responsible for our actions. But we are indeed responsible for our actions.
Sometimes those actions have larger consequences than we realize. An offhand comment or joke about another person's shortcomings - just being honest, right? - can have lasting repercussions.
If we recognize that to Christ, the worst sins are those against Love, then taking a look at our own lives can be an eye-opening experience. We're so locked into our own interests that we miss so much...
When I did my student teaching prior to my graduation from university, I was assigned a class of high-school seniors and a supervising teacher who observed exactly two of my classes. Having such freedom, I departed from the text and assigned The Little Prince by Antoine Saint-Exupery to my students.
In that book, there is a scene in which the Little Prince wishes to speak to the narrator, who is busily trying to repair his plane, about the safety of the Flower on his home planet. The narrator is entirely focused on the work at hand and pays little attention to the Prince, explaining that he wasn't paying much attention, saying "I am very busy with matters of consequence!" The Little Prince is horrified, and finally collapses in tears, to the narrator's chagrin.
My class responded with unanimous condemnation of the narrator for his failing to pay attention to the Little Prince, who was only worried about his beloved Flower, after all. Playing devil's advocate, I nodded and asked how many of my students had pesky younger brothers or sisters. Nearly every hand went up. I smiled at them and waited.
It took a few seconds for them to connect the dots, but they got the point. Almost immediately, though, I watched in horror as my girls began crying, their shoulders shaking over their heads on their desks. A few of my boys had suspiciously red eyes, as well, and I imagine I was fairly close to tears myself. I was extremely grateful that day that my supervising teacher was enjoying her coffee in the lounge instead of witnessing the consequences of my teaching!
But the point was valid then, as it is now: we get so immersed in our own interests that we lose sight of the impact of our words and actions on others. We hurt them, intentionally or not. When we hurt others, we need forgiveness. Whatsoever we do to the least of these, eh?
Bottom line: if we take our faith seriously, we cannot refuse to forgive those who hurt us.
Forgiveness relieves our spirits, helps us regain our joy in life, frees us of the burden of old hurts. Forgiveness is healing to the spirit as well as the soul, and some evidence suggests that it can even have a healing effect on the body.
The bottom line, though, is that all the reasons we can devise or discover are actually immaterial. There is one overriding reason to forgive: Christ tells us to to do so.
Why? The answer is right there in the prayer Christ taught: we will be forgiven as generously as we forgive. 'Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us."
If you can get out of that one, then take a look at Mt. 18. Peter, the Everyman of Christ's followers, asks how many times must we forgive someone. Christ tells him not seven times but seventy times seven times and then illustrates why with the parable of the unmerciful servant. Having had his own debt forgiven by the master, the servant went off and refused to forgive a much smaller debt against him. Hearing about this, the master threw the servant into jail to be tortured until his debt was paid.
Ouch. That's pretty clear, isn't it!
As we forgive others, so are we forgiven. All the rest of it - freedom, joy, healing - that's just lagniappe, a bonus. The bottom line is that we must forgive if we want to receive forgiveness.
I know, people have hurt us more than we have hurt others, right? Their transgressions are so much worse than anything we have done.
We never know that. I once had to file a police report against a teacher who didn't like the way I said 'thank you' to him. Seriously, this was his rationale: it sounded insincere, like 'have a nice day' or something. What seems small to us, like an automatic thank you, has implications we cannot know to another. In ways we don't intend and cannot expect, we hurt others and send them over the edge, as I unwittingly did.
Note: we're not responsible for the ways they choose to handle their hurt or anger. We are all responsible for our actions. But we are indeed responsible for our actions.
Sometimes those actions have larger consequences than we realize. An offhand comment or joke about another person's shortcomings - just being honest, right? - can have lasting repercussions.
If we recognize that to Christ, the worst sins are those against Love, then taking a look at our own lives can be an eye-opening experience. We're so locked into our own interests that we miss so much...
When I did my student teaching prior to my graduation from university, I was assigned a class of high-school seniors and a supervising teacher who observed exactly two of my classes. Having such freedom, I departed from the text and assigned The Little Prince by Antoine Saint-Exupery to my students.
In that book, there is a scene in which the Little Prince wishes to speak to the narrator, who is busily trying to repair his plane, about the safety of the Flower on his home planet. The narrator is entirely focused on the work at hand and pays little attention to the Prince, explaining that he wasn't paying much attention, saying "I am very busy with matters of consequence!" The Little Prince is horrified, and finally collapses in tears, to the narrator's chagrin.
My class responded with unanimous condemnation of the narrator for his failing to pay attention to the Little Prince, who was only worried about his beloved Flower, after all. Playing devil's advocate, I nodded and asked how many of my students had pesky younger brothers or sisters. Nearly every hand went up. I smiled at them and waited.
It took a few seconds for them to connect the dots, but they got the point. Almost immediately, though, I watched in horror as my girls began crying, their shoulders shaking over their heads on their desks. A few of my boys had suspiciously red eyes, as well, and I imagine I was fairly close to tears myself. I was extremely grateful that day that my supervising teacher was enjoying her coffee in the lounge instead of witnessing the consequences of my teaching!
But the point was valid then, as it is now: we get so immersed in our own interests that we lose sight of the impact of our words and actions on others. We hurt them, intentionally or not. When we hurt others, we need forgiveness. Whatsoever we do to the least of these, eh?
Bottom line: if we take our faith seriously, we cannot refuse to forgive those who hurt us.
Friday, September 14, 2012
Closure
There's something about an open drawer or cupboard that makes us automatically stretch out a hand to close it. Open books make us reach for a bookmark and close the cover. It's just neater and tidier that way, right?
Humans like closure. We like to finish our sentences instead of being interrupted. We prefer to watch a movie rather than its tv mini-series counterpart. We hate leftovers from dinner.
When it comes to painful interactions, though, our desire for closure wars with our vision of what the appropriate closure should be. When a murder is committed, we want to see the killer caught and sentenced to jail. For some people, that is not enough: they want to see the killer executed. One person's closure is another's cupboard door hanging open. That door is easy to close when it's my own cupboard; when it's in someone's home where I am a guest, though, I may be out of line to act.
When we've been hurt, many issues come into play. The offender, the actual action(s), our response, our baggage - and that's just the starting lineup. That cupboard begins to look more like a pantry filled with shelves and drawers and cupboards - all hanging open.
We cannot control the consequences to the offender. We can't make the offender recognize the impact of the offense, take responsibility, or feel remorse. We cannot make sure the offender pays the price. Those are the pantry cupboards and drawers we can't close.
What we can do is close the pantry so we don't have to look at them. We do that by recognizing the injury and turning it over to God. By letting it go. By letting God be God in this matter. We close the door, turn off the light, and put the matter to rest. Closure.
For some of us, that is not going to happen. Sometimes, we just need more support to get there. Sometimes, we consider the matter and choose not to go there at all. For whatever reason, refusing to let go seems to be worth living with with the pain of unforgiveness. I don't mean to make that sound noble or strong or valiant because it isn't.
Wisdom means recognizing what is and is not within our control - remember the Serenity Prayer? Wisdom to know the difference. Wisdom also means to ability to understand things on a deeper level.
On a deeper level, we all pay the price for our misdeeds. Our bodies punish our guilt even as our lips proclaim our innocence. Wrongdoing always impacts our self-esteem; we can deny it and put on the mask, but our hearts know and that knowledge has an impact of its own. And, of course, we have the Maude principle: God'll get you for that. Maude Findlay may not have been the most forgiving of tv characters, but she understood that we will all answer for our actions.
Offenders will always pay for their crimes, either in this world or the next. Our decision whether to forgive will determine whether we foot part of the bill.
Humans like closure. We like to finish our sentences instead of being interrupted. We prefer to watch a movie rather than its tv mini-series counterpart. We hate leftovers from dinner.
When it comes to painful interactions, though, our desire for closure wars with our vision of what the appropriate closure should be. When a murder is committed, we want to see the killer caught and sentenced to jail. For some people, that is not enough: they want to see the killer executed. One person's closure is another's cupboard door hanging open. That door is easy to close when it's my own cupboard; when it's in someone's home where I am a guest, though, I may be out of line to act.
When we've been hurt, many issues come into play. The offender, the actual action(s), our response, our baggage - and that's just the starting lineup. That cupboard begins to look more like a pantry filled with shelves and drawers and cupboards - all hanging open.
We cannot control the consequences to the offender. We can't make the offender recognize the impact of the offense, take responsibility, or feel remorse. We cannot make sure the offender pays the price. Those are the pantry cupboards and drawers we can't close.
What we can do is close the pantry so we don't have to look at them. We do that by recognizing the injury and turning it over to God. By letting it go. By letting God be God in this matter. We close the door, turn off the light, and put the matter to rest. Closure.
For some of us, that is not going to happen. Sometimes, we just need more support to get there. Sometimes, we consider the matter and choose not to go there at all. For whatever reason, refusing to let go seems to be worth living with with the pain of unforgiveness. I don't mean to make that sound noble or strong or valiant because it isn't.
Wisdom means recognizing what is and is not within our control - remember the Serenity Prayer? Wisdom to know the difference. Wisdom also means to ability to understand things on a deeper level.
On a deeper level, we all pay the price for our misdeeds. Our bodies punish our guilt even as our lips proclaim our innocence. Wrongdoing always impacts our self-esteem; we can deny it and put on the mask, but our hearts know and that knowledge has an impact of its own. And, of course, we have the Maude principle: God'll get you for that. Maude Findlay may not have been the most forgiving of tv characters, but she understood that we will all answer for our actions.
Offenders will always pay for their crimes, either in this world or the next. Our decision whether to forgive will determine whether we foot part of the bill.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Seeing Reason
Yesterday I brought up the topic of forgiveness and asked why we would choose to hang onto old pain. Actually, we humans are good at reasoning our way through life, so when I asked some folks why not forgive, they gave me a host of reasons.
The first is that we cannot excuse the wrong that was done. Forgiveness seems to say that the offense doesn't matter, that the harm was insignificant.
Related to this is the idea that some offenses are unforgivable: they are simply too big, too offensive to forgive.
Another is that by forgiving the offender, the person is let off the hook, so to speak. They get away without paying for their crime. Our refusal to forgive is an attempt to restore balance, to achieve justice when justice seems not to be forthcoming.
Sometimes forgiveness is withheld not because of the offense but because of the offender. That person is too reprehensible to be forgiven. Perhaps the offender is unrepentant or not repentant enough. Sometimes the offender seems actually to have benefited from the commission of the offense that rankles so. Maybe the offender has continued in the offense against us or against other victims. Perhaps the offender seems to enjoy or even glory in their offenses.
When the offense was committed not against us, but against a loved one, it can be especially hard to forgive the perpetrator. We see our continuing unforgiveness as an act of solidarity with our loved one.
When the offender is no longer living, people may feel that forgiveness is moot. The offender simply isn't there to be forgiven.
Sometimes people think forgiveness is unnecessary because they are at least partially responsible for what happened. Particularly in abuse cases, victims may have been convinced by the offender that either they asked for or deserved the abuse they suffered. It was the victim's fault; the victim forced the offender's hand.
We may believe that forgiveness is not the answer. "If my refusal to forgive makes me angry and allows the wound to fester," we say, "well, it's worth it because...(insert reason)."
Ok, but does that really make sense?
The first is that we cannot excuse the wrong that was done. Forgiveness seems to say that the offense doesn't matter, that the harm was insignificant.
Related to this is the idea that some offenses are unforgivable: they are simply too big, too offensive to forgive.
Another is that by forgiving the offender, the person is let off the hook, so to speak. They get away without paying for their crime. Our refusal to forgive is an attempt to restore balance, to achieve justice when justice seems not to be forthcoming.
Sometimes forgiveness is withheld not because of the offense but because of the offender. That person is too reprehensible to be forgiven. Perhaps the offender is unrepentant or not repentant enough. Sometimes the offender seems actually to have benefited from the commission of the offense that rankles so. Maybe the offender has continued in the offense against us or against other victims. Perhaps the offender seems to enjoy or even glory in their offenses.
When the offense was committed not against us, but against a loved one, it can be especially hard to forgive the perpetrator. We see our continuing unforgiveness as an act of solidarity with our loved one.
When the offender is no longer living, people may feel that forgiveness is moot. The offender simply isn't there to be forgiven.
Sometimes people think forgiveness is unnecessary because they are at least partially responsible for what happened. Particularly in abuse cases, victims may have been convinced by the offender that either they asked for or deserved the abuse they suffered. It was the victim's fault; the victim forced the offender's hand.
We may believe that forgiveness is not the answer. "If my refusal to forgive makes me angry and allows the wound to fester," we say, "well, it's worth it because...(insert reason)."
Ok, but does that really make sense?
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
The Dirty Word
Our Father who art in Heaven,
Hallowed be thy name;
Thy kingdom come
Thy will be done
On earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread;
And forgive us our trespasses
As we forgive those who trespass against us;
And lead us not into temptation,
But deliver us from evil.
Matthew 6:9-13
Oh, dear, oh dear. There's that nasty word again: forgive.
Is there anything less human than to forgive? Nothing in our makeup disposes us to forgiveness. Even a two-year-old is quick to slap back when crossed. Little ones are quick to pout and sulk when they are displeased. Parents know that retaliation is swift and strong when their toddlers are denied their wishes. Playtime can quickly turn into a battlefield when youngsters disagree.
Kids grow up, though, and good parents teach them to share, to compromise, to understand the feelings of others, to understand, to let bygones be bygones. Those are important lessons. Childhood and adolescence are difficult enough without adding all the pain and drama of unhappy relationships to the mix.
Good parents know that there is power in 'No' and that too much 'Yes' can be frighteningly destructive to a child's development. So good parents teach their children to be flexible.
We all want our children to be happy, so we teach them that life will not always be easy and pleasant, that people will hurt or anger them and sometimes that is intentional, and that despite all, things will get better and life is good. Unless we choose otherwise, of course.
Because we get to choose. Those choices determine the degree of happiness we allow into our lives.
We all know people who face shattering disappointments, incredible challenges, crushing failures. Some of those people become bitter, complaining and rehashing the endless laundry list of the affronts life and others have thrown their way. Some become aggrieved, bemoaning the heartlessness of people and the unhappiness of their lives (NB: this is not a reference to clinical depression). Some find a way to be happy through it all, retaining a lively interest in others and an optimistic certainty that things are good and will get even better.
There is no mystery here. Choices have consequences.
Forgiveness is a choice. We can choose to remain angry with God, with people, with life itself...and we probably have good reasons to do so. We hurt! We didn't deserve this! We try so hard, and this is so unfair!
Some, and perhaps all, of that is absolutely true. The point, though, is that when we remain locked in our unhappiness and loss, we lock in the pain we want to escape.
Remember Moonstruck, that old movie so often rerun on late night tv? In one scene, Ronny (the character played by Nicholas Cage) explains to Loretta (played by Cher) why he and his brother have been estranged all these years. He hold up his wooden hand, exclaiming, "I lost my hand, I lost my bride! Johnny has his hand, Johnny has his bride! You come in here and you want me to put away my heartbreak and forget?"
Hallowed be thy name;
Thy kingdom come
Thy will be done
On earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread;
And forgive us our trespasses
As we forgive those who trespass against us;
And lead us not into temptation,
But deliver us from evil.
Matthew 6:9-13
Oh, dear, oh dear. There's that nasty word again: forgive.
Is there anything less human than to forgive? Nothing in our makeup disposes us to forgiveness. Even a two-year-old is quick to slap back when crossed. Little ones are quick to pout and sulk when they are displeased. Parents know that retaliation is swift and strong when their toddlers are denied their wishes. Playtime can quickly turn into a battlefield when youngsters disagree.
Kids grow up, though, and good parents teach them to share, to compromise, to understand the feelings of others, to understand, to let bygones be bygones. Those are important lessons. Childhood and adolescence are difficult enough without adding all the pain and drama of unhappy relationships to the mix.
Good parents know that there is power in 'No' and that too much 'Yes' can be frighteningly destructive to a child's development. So good parents teach their children to be flexible.
We all want our children to be happy, so we teach them that life will not always be easy and pleasant, that people will hurt or anger them and sometimes that is intentional, and that despite all, things will get better and life is good. Unless we choose otherwise, of course.
Because we get to choose. Those choices determine the degree of happiness we allow into our lives.
We all know people who face shattering disappointments, incredible challenges, crushing failures. Some of those people become bitter, complaining and rehashing the endless laundry list of the affronts life and others have thrown their way. Some become aggrieved, bemoaning the heartlessness of people and the unhappiness of their lives (NB: this is not a reference to clinical depression). Some find a way to be happy through it all, retaining a lively interest in others and an optimistic certainty that things are good and will get even better.
There is no mystery here. Choices have consequences.
Forgiveness is a choice. We can choose to remain angry with God, with people, with life itself...and we probably have good reasons to do so. We hurt! We didn't deserve this! We try so hard, and this is so unfair!
Some, and perhaps all, of that is absolutely true. The point, though, is that when we remain locked in our unhappiness and loss, we lock in the pain we want to escape.
Remember Moonstruck, that old movie so often rerun on late night tv? In one scene, Ronny (the character played by Nicholas Cage) explains to Loretta (played by Cher) why he and his brother have been estranged all these years. He hold up his wooden hand, exclaiming, "I lost my hand, I lost my bride! Johnny has his hand, Johnny has his bride! You come in here and you want me to put away my heartbreak and forget?"
Time has moved on, but Ronny hasn't. He's still feeding the anger and pain of his double loss. In choosing to focus all his time and attention on the unfairness of it all, he has created a life of bitterness and resentment. His pain is unending because he refuses to .... forgive. To forgive Johnny, to whom he was speaking when his hand was severed. To forgive his fiancee, who left him after he was maimed. To forgive himself, for being distracted and moving his hand into harm's way. To forgive God, ultimately, because God let it happen, right?
He has honored the magnitude of his pain and loss, but what a price he has paid to do so!
Let's face it: people can be cruel beyond our darkest imagining. There are people who even enjoy the cruelty and suffering they inflict on others. Sometimes, on us.
Pain is real, and it can be tremendously excruciating. Anger and outrage are valid. But after the initial anger and outrage, we have a choice. We can stay there, becoming monuments to the injustice of it all, or we can forgive and move on.
Forgiveness is freeing. Forgiveness allows us to smile once more, to experience deep happiness and even joy. Forgiveness allows us to crawl under the rock that squashed us.
It isn't easy to do, but when we forgive, the relief is indescribable, like that of a woman removing a high-heeled shoe that has cramped her food all day. Sliding the foot from the shoe is not easy; the burst of pain that accompanies it is blinding. In just a second, though, the pain is overshadowed by a feeling of comfort that is as sweet and pleasurable as the pain was agonizing.
Forgiveness represents a choice for relief, for freedom, for happiness. Why choose to hang onto old pain?
He has honored the magnitude of his pain and loss, but what a price he has paid to do so!
Let's face it: people can be cruel beyond our darkest imagining. There are people who even enjoy the cruelty and suffering they inflict on others. Sometimes, on us.
Pain is real, and it can be tremendously excruciating. Anger and outrage are valid. But after the initial anger and outrage, we have a choice. We can stay there, becoming monuments to the injustice of it all, or we can forgive and move on.
Forgiveness is freeing. Forgiveness allows us to smile once more, to experience deep happiness and even joy. Forgiveness allows us to crawl under the rock that squashed us.
It isn't easy to do, but when we forgive, the relief is indescribable, like that of a woman removing a high-heeled shoe that has cramped her food all day. Sliding the foot from the shoe is not easy; the burst of pain that accompanies it is blinding. In just a second, though, the pain is overshadowed by a feeling of comfort that is as sweet and pleasurable as the pain was agonizing.
Forgiveness represents a choice for relief, for freedom, for happiness. Why choose to hang onto old pain?
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
More than Remembering
Today we are bombarded with remembrances of the Sept. 11 attack. Again and again, I am hearing 'Never forget' or 'We'll never forget.' What does that mean?
I'm sure some people simply mean they will never forget the events of the day or the loved ones they lost. Others mean that the horror of the day is irrevocably etched in their memories. How can it be otherwise? Our thoughts and prayers are with them.
But some, though, say it in a rather ominous tone, rather like a Soprano boss warning a competitor who has overstepped that there is more to come: the debt is not yet satisfied. The bill has not yet been paid - but it will be. And that is a problem.
When we look at a horror like 9/11 and think this way, we do our loved ones a disservice. Honoring their lives by taking other lives is no honor at all but simply revenge.
It's an understandable and very human response. "We are the victims! We've been attacked! Nearly 3000 innocent people died!" we cry. All true, without question.
"We can't let this go! We can't take this lying down! We won't!" That was the immediate, natural, human response. The power of the pain and outrage led to the so-called War on Terror.
Now, eleven years later, what has been accomplished? Over 8900 Americans, British and others in the coalition force have died in Iraq and Afghanistan. Add to that between 218,000 and 291,000 people - over half, civilians - of those countries. Osama bin Laden has been killed, yet the killing doesn't stop.
This isn't honor. It isn't tribute. It isn't justice. It's revenge.
Now, revenge was fine with the Old Testament crowd back in the day, along with slavery and stoning folks. Eye for an eye and all that...but we are not people of the Old Testament.
We are the people of Jesus, Christians under a radical new covenant. Jesus, the Son of God, gives us a new response to injury and attack: turn the other cheek. That is not what we want to hear, is it? We are ordinary humans, and when we hurt we want to get back at the one who hurt us. It's normal.
But Jesus calls us to something better - a new way of living, a new definition of normal. And in that new way, Jesus shows us the difference between old and new. Instead of the eye for an eye mentality, Jesus teaches love.
Love your enemies, he says in Luke 6, and do good to those who hate you, who curse you, who hurt you. Bless them! Pray for them! You've heard this before: turn the other cheek. Do unto others.
In Matthew 5, he takes it even farther: "You have heard the law that says the punishment must match the injury: ‘An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say, do not resist an evil person! If someone slaps you on the right cheek, offer the other cheek also. "
Ouch. But that's not all.
He goes on: "You have heard the law that says, ‘Love your neighbor’ and hate your enemy. But I say, love your enemies! Pray for those who persecute you! In that way, you will be acting as true children of your Father in heaven."
This is a problem. If we do not 'do unto others' and love our enemies, then we are not acting as true children of God.
So what would Jesus tell us to do today? He might tell us to pray for all those who have died due to terrorism, both the innocents and their killers. He might tell us to love even the masterminds of those attacks.
It certainly isn't what *I* want to hear! I'm very good at resistance, and perhaps you understand because you are, too. But the bottom line is, no matter what the hurt, no matter how terrible the attack or how great my innocence, Jesus does not support my desire for revenge. Jesus tells me to yield, to give over, to let go, to choose another way, a way that is folly in the eyes of the world.
We're all Peter in the garden, and Jesus keeps telling us to put away our sword. Maybe it's time to listen to Him.
I'm sure some people simply mean they will never forget the events of the day or the loved ones they lost. Others mean that the horror of the day is irrevocably etched in their memories. How can it be otherwise? Our thoughts and prayers are with them.
But some, though, say it in a rather ominous tone, rather like a Soprano boss warning a competitor who has overstepped that there is more to come: the debt is not yet satisfied. The bill has not yet been paid - but it will be. And that is a problem.
When we look at a horror like 9/11 and think this way, we do our loved ones a disservice. Honoring their lives by taking other lives is no honor at all but simply revenge.
It's an understandable and very human response. "We are the victims! We've been attacked! Nearly 3000 innocent people died!" we cry. All true, without question.
"We can't let this go! We can't take this lying down! We won't!" That was the immediate, natural, human response. The power of the pain and outrage led to the so-called War on Terror.
Now, eleven years later, what has been accomplished? Over 8900 Americans, British and others in the coalition force have died in Iraq and Afghanistan. Add to that between 218,000 and 291,000 people - over half, civilians - of those countries. Osama bin Laden has been killed, yet the killing doesn't stop.
This isn't honor. It isn't tribute. It isn't justice. It's revenge.
Now, revenge was fine with the Old Testament crowd back in the day, along with slavery and stoning folks. Eye for an eye and all that...but we are not people of the Old Testament.
We are the people of Jesus, Christians under a radical new covenant. Jesus, the Son of God, gives us a new response to injury and attack: turn the other cheek. That is not what we want to hear, is it? We are ordinary humans, and when we hurt we want to get back at the one who hurt us. It's normal.
But Jesus calls us to something better - a new way of living, a new definition of normal. And in that new way, Jesus shows us the difference between old and new. Instead of the eye for an eye mentality, Jesus teaches love.
Love your enemies, he says in Luke 6, and do good to those who hate you, who curse you, who hurt you. Bless them! Pray for them! You've heard this before: turn the other cheek. Do unto others.
In Matthew 5, he takes it even farther: "You have heard the law that says the punishment must match the injury: ‘An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say, do not resist an evil person! If someone slaps you on the right cheek, offer the other cheek also. "
Ouch. But that's not all.
He goes on: "You have heard the law that says, ‘Love your neighbor’ and hate your enemy. But I say, love your enemies! Pray for those who persecute you! In that way, you will be acting as true children of your Father in heaven."
This is a problem. If we do not 'do unto others' and love our enemies, then we are not acting as true children of God.
So what would Jesus tell us to do today? He might tell us to pray for all those who have died due to terrorism, both the innocents and their killers. He might tell us to love even the masterminds of those attacks.
It certainly isn't what *I* want to hear! I'm very good at resistance, and perhaps you understand because you are, too. But the bottom line is, no matter what the hurt, no matter how terrible the attack or how great my innocence, Jesus does not support my desire for revenge. Jesus tells me to yield, to give over, to let go, to choose another way, a way that is folly in the eyes of the world.
We're all Peter in the garden, and Jesus keeps telling us to put away our sword. Maybe it's time to listen to Him.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Remembering the Unforgettable
Tomorrow is Sept. 11, the day that broke our hearts, all over the world. Various cable channels have been 'gearing up' for the day, much as they gear up for Christmas, by airing special programs reminding us of what happened on that sad day - as though anyone has forgotten.
It makes me sad on so many levels.
Of course I am saddened by the loss of so many innocent lives, ordinary people going about their day and heroic responders who lost their lives when the towers came down as well as survivors who now face devastating illness as a result of the day's events.
I am sad to think of so many other innocent lives lost in so many incidents in the days since then, so many terrorist attacks around the world.
I am saddened by the loss of so many bright young service men and women fighting in the Mid-East wars. And I am saddened by the havoc wrought on other innocent people whose homelands have been devastated in those wars. I grieve that so many deaths and so much destruction were the result of falsified information.
I am saddened by the pain of innocent peace-loving people who are mistaken for terrorists and who face prejudice and hate because of their appearance.
I am saddened by the cost of the war not only in terms of loss of life, but in loss of trust, loss of faith, loss of compassion, loss of generosity, loss of loving-kindness toward others.
I am saddened by the fruits of so much pain - the increase we see today of incivility, of anger, of hate, of racism, of bigotry, of greed, of ignorance, of fear-mongering and disinformation and propaganda, of outright lies being presented -and accepted - as truth, of violence to bodies and property and spirit and freedom. So much pain giving rise to so much more pain. So many losses, so much hurt- truly, the quantity is staggering to contemplate!
Tomorrow is the sad anniversary of a day that has ushered in eleven sad years. As we remember those who were lost, their loved ones, and all of us struggling to find our way in a world that makes less and less sense, let us pray for the nations of the earth.
Let us pray not that this or that party or faction win, but that the people win, that justice is served and peace restored, that the hungry are fed and the sick tended, that the homeless are given shelter and that in all things, Love is both the goal and the means to it.
Indeed, Love is our only hope.
It makes me sad on so many levels.
Of course I am saddened by the loss of so many innocent lives, ordinary people going about their day and heroic responders who lost their lives when the towers came down as well as survivors who now face devastating illness as a result of the day's events.
I am sad to think of so many other innocent lives lost in so many incidents in the days since then, so many terrorist attacks around the world.
I am saddened by the loss of so many bright young service men and women fighting in the Mid-East wars. And I am saddened by the havoc wrought on other innocent people whose homelands have been devastated in those wars. I grieve that so many deaths and so much destruction were the result of falsified information.
I am saddened by the pain of innocent peace-loving people who are mistaken for terrorists and who face prejudice and hate because of their appearance.
I am saddened by the cost of the war not only in terms of loss of life, but in loss of trust, loss of faith, loss of compassion, loss of generosity, loss of loving-kindness toward others.
I am saddened by the fruits of so much pain - the increase we see today of incivility, of anger, of hate, of racism, of bigotry, of greed, of ignorance, of fear-mongering and disinformation and propaganda, of outright lies being presented -and accepted - as truth, of violence to bodies and property and spirit and freedom. So much pain giving rise to so much more pain. So many losses, so much hurt- truly, the quantity is staggering to contemplate!
Tomorrow is the sad anniversary of a day that has ushered in eleven sad years. As we remember those who were lost, their loved ones, and all of us struggling to find our way in a world that makes less and less sense, let us pray for the nations of the earth.
Let us pray not that this or that party or faction win, but that the people win, that justice is served and peace restored, that the hungry are fed and the sick tended, that the homeless are given shelter and that in all things, Love is both the goal and the means to it.
Indeed, Love is our only hope.
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