"Healthy Forgiveness"
There’s a great scene in the movie “Fiddler on the Roof,”
where a village wise guy asks the rabbi if it’s possible to bless
the tyrannical Russian czar. The old man is stumped for a moment,
then shouts back, “God bless and keep the czar…far away
from us!” The rabbi reminds me of David in our first reading.
King Saul is chasing him through Israel, with murder on the brain,
and the tables are turned when David sneaks into Saul’s camp
and finds his enemy asleep and vulnerable. It’s the perfect opportunity
for David to clear his path to the throne. His friend Abishai is thrilled,
and hisses, “Kill the nutcase!” But David just steals the
king’s water jar and spear, then taunts him with them from a
safe distance. Like many abusers, Saul begs David to come home—“I’m
sorry, I’ll change, it will never happen again.” But David
isn't fooled, and feels safer fleeing the country to live with his
people’s bitter enemies, the Philistines. “God bless and
keep King Saul…far away from me!”
These stories help me make sense of the dangerous challenge of another
Jewish rabbi: “Love your enemies…turn the other cheek….
forgive, and you will be forgiven.” These words from the Sermon
on the Plain have inspired civil rights demonstrators to face fire
hoses and police dogs, and victims’ families to protest the execution
of their loved ones’ murderers. They have also been the excuse
for sending battered women back to abusive homes, and absolving molesting
priests for a few Hail Marys before moving them to prey on fresh victims.
How can we love our enemies and stay emotionally healthy? How can
we forgive in a way which upholds justice, rather than thwarting it?
Tough questions as we enter Lent this Wednesday, and hear our baptismal
call to help God reconcile a violent, broken world. In tonight’s
newsletter I have recommended several books which may shed light on
these complex issues. In this homily I would simply like to suggest
a way of hearing today’s Gospel that may help us “speak
the truth in love” in our homes and workplaces, as well as within
our Journey community.
Chapter 17 of Luke has a usually forgotten passage that provides
crucial help in interpreting tonight’s Gospel. There Jesus says:
“If another disciple sins, you must rebuke the offender, and
if there is repentance you must forgive. And if the same person sins
against you seven times a day, and turns back to you seven times and
says, ‘I repent,’ you must forgive.” The Greek word
for “repentance” is “metanoia,”--not just feeling
sorry or saying sorry, but changing direction: if you’re on I-5
to Seattle , pulling a U-turn and heading toward San Francisco . Twelve
step programs echo Jesus’ wisdom when they call for “making
amends” to all who have been injured, which may include ourselves.
How different from many writers, both Christian and New Age, who urge
letting go of anger at offenders immediately, even if they deny or
continue hurtful behavior. Psychologist Jeanne Safer suggests that
such false, rushed forgiveness tempts us not to feel and work through
our pain, and take action to protect ourselves and others. She quips
that it bears as much relationship to real forgiveness as fruit flavored
lifesavers bear to fruit, or to saving someone’s life. Calling
for conversion, rather than simply delivering a “not guilty”
verdict, offers true release from sin—the root meaning of the
Greek words for forgiveness, “aphiemi” and “apoluo.”
Such conversations take patience and courage on both sides, but can
transform our lives and relationships. As the truth and reconciliation
process in South Africa has shown, they can even provide a path through
long-standing, brutal conflicts between oppressors and oppressed.
So is there a connection between these two commands from Luke’s
Jesus? Is there a balance between loving our enemies without seeking
revenge—on a literal reading, without even seeking justice—and
standing against acts harmful to perpetrators, as well as to the innocent?
I find a helpful way of living into this paradox is to follow Jesus’
counsel in tonight’s Gospel to pray for those who harm us. I
have tried to be faithful to this call in dealing with everything
from severe abuse to the ordinary wounds we imperfect human beings
inflict on each other. Prayer is the ideal way to prepare our hearts
for speaking and listening in a loving confrontation. We can also
pray for ourselves, asking God’s love to heal the roots of our
own sinful words and actions. While some wounds may not be fully healed
on this earth, this practice can bring liberation and consolation--epecially
if we remember it doesn’t have to be a sentimental Hallmark moment.
I was beating myself up once for some very justified anger, and a
friend reminded me, “you can pray for your persecutors to stop
persecuting you!” I believe God accepts all our feelings, and
would rather we pour out our fury and hatred in prayer than shame
ourselves for feeling them, or strike back with a gun or a barbed
tongue. If we persist in honest prayer, we will find growing compassion
for the deep wounds of those who hurt us. If we take action for justice
as well, we will find healthy forgiveness flowing from our hearts
in God's time. May we find the courage this Lent to pray for those
who have hurt us, and those whom we have hurt--to search our consciences
and offer amends, and to search our wounded hearts and gently request
them--that we may all find true freedom through the transforming mercy
of our God.
